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myownwutheringheights · 2 years

Note

Matt comes home from his daredevil duties to sense that your not home. He knew this could only mean you were training late again at the boxing studio. Matt becomes worried with how much your not sleeping or coming home since you found out his secret. He gets to the studio to see you on your second punch bag with bloody knuckles and no intention in stopping. Angst/fluffy ending.

If We Survive The Great War

AN: I love this nonny! Thanks for the request. Hope this satisfies. Inspired by the new Taylor Swift song because at this point my whole Marvel inspired playlist is just her. As always, gif credit ^ goes to the original creator. I know literally nothing about boxing, I'm just trying my best. This got out of hand and went longer than I intended. What is editing? Love you, mean it.

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f! reader (established relationship)

Rating: M. MINORS DNI

Warnings: Canon typical angst & blood, language, fear of the loss of a loved one. Crying/panic attack like event. Discussion of Matt's abilities/powers, Mentions of periods/ovulation/discussion of sex because I can't help myself. Squint and there's a sentence of blasphemy. Matt Murdock is still his own warning

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Matt silently entered the apartment from the roof access. It's so late it's almost early. His boots barely made a sound on the steps, the rain outside was far louder as he came to the main level of his apartment....well, your apartment. Or it had been. Until you'd learned the truth about his double life, the secret part of him and his abilities that he'd tried to keep you protected from.

He'd managed to keep the two halves of his life separate for a long time. After you took the big step and moved in, it had become harder and harder to keep the secret. Till it had become impossible.

Till you learned you were dating the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

You lived with him. Shared your bed with him.

When you'd seen him in the suit, all maroon and black, bully sticks and horns…. you'd run. And you'd been running ever since. You slept less than him. You were spending more time at Fogwell's, exhausted, punching bags, often imagining it was his face. Angry that you knew what this place meant to him and yet he'd shared it with you, and it tugged at your heartstrings when you just wanted to be angry. He'd carefully picked what he'd chosen to share. And he hadn't shared the most important thing.

If you weren't at the gym you'd been staying more often with friends, crashing at their places; moving from couch to couch to cope with the revelation and all he'd subsequently shared.

It had all been too much.

Out there he was the Man Without Fear. But right now? He had one fear.

Losing you.

Matt doesn't even call out your name; he knows you aren't there. He hears no other heartbeat, no familiar rhythm. Your scent is barely there. Aside from him, the apartment is empty, the rain on the windows reverberating through the place.

Sometimes you’ve been kind enough to text him where you’re staying, just so he doesn’t get worried. But not tonight; text to speech said he had no new messages. He cursed and goes to the bedroom. He reached out to nudge the spot near the bed where you keep your gym bag. Same spot. Every time. It was gone. He cursed again for a man who does a lot of things, but doesn’t always curse (unless he’s in bed).

He hadn’t been by your side in days; he knew damn well you weren’t sleeping, probably hadn't slept in days, and had no idea if you were ok. Concern fills his chest like a gaping chasm. The back of his neck felt the prickling coldness of fear.

He had to know you were safe.

He changes into sweats and an old t-shirt, throws on a sweatshirt and grabs the sunglasses he always wears and heads out to find you. He’d faced Fisk head on. And the Hand.

Why did going into this battle scare him more?

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You hear the door open behind you in the otherwise nearly dark and completely empty gym. Anger bristles in your core and twits like vines inside you going up your body as your muscles tighten with it. It makes you punch harder. Faster.

Instantly, the metallic tang fills his nostrils, the taste of it in Matt's mouth. Blood. Your blood. His jaw sets as he steps inside, not speaking. Not yet. He doesn't seem to care he's dripping water on the floor or that he's soaking wet from the rain. Even in your anger, he knew in your gym bag was his old Columbia sweatshirt he'd let you borrow but you'd promptly stollen and wore all the time. It smelled perfectly of both of you. He turned from the bag towards you. Right here, right now everything in him is attuned to you; his worry, his concern.

He knows this place by heart. Very inch and every corner. So when his foot comes in contact with the discarded punching bag on the floor that normally isn't there, he knows it's gone too far. Too far, for too long.

You're exhausted. And yet he knows you have no plan on stopping.

He keeps exploring for just a moment; next to the bag were your gloves that you'd ditched first, and most likely awhile ago. Next to them, the wrappings for your hands. It hadn't felt right having your hands covered. The bite of the bag as you hit it again and again and again feels good because it makes you feel something.

Your knuckles had been red an hour ago. You should have stopped. Now they were raw and bleeding. It had been too long on the bags but it didn't matter.

Matt bends and picks up the wrappings. He gives you wide birth as you keep swinging, walking around to the other side of the bag.

"You're bleeding." His voice is even and low.

"And you're full of shit, Murdock." Your words are sharp, and you're ready to fight. You cut a mean right hook, going extra wide, and Matt dodges out of the way. You shake your head, letting out a breath of too many emotions to count or name. "You shouldn't be able to know that Matt! But you do. You hid so much from me." You're only just beginning to learn the depths of what he's capable of. What he can do. And you've only scratched the surface. Those red sunglasses are what stare back in your direction. The image of the mask with those expressionless and empty red eyes flashes in your mind. "I trusted you!" You let loose another punch and once more it's wide, making your form falter. He steps out of the way again. You shake your head once more, still trying to grasp everything he has told you.

Because yes, he's told you everything. In hopes to hold onto you, in hopes to keep you in his life, he'd shared his story like opening up a wound, exposing every scar; the full details of the accident and his heightened sense, how he'd fought and trained most of his life. He told you how the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had come into existence. How he, Foggy and Karen had worked to take down Fisk. He'd left no stone unturned, no secret unrevealed.

But it was still all so new. So much.

"Tell me," you bark at him, but the words sound more pitiful and sad than angry. "Tell me again just how strong these senses of yours are? Remind me just how much you've been able to know about me. Spare no detail. I want to know." He doesn't say a word. It makes the anger boil over and you turn away from the punching bag for the first time in the brutal two hour session. "Tell me Matt!"

He takes in and lets out the longest of breaths.

"Yes, I knew you were bleeding when I walked in. I can use a "spacial method" to know what's going on around me so I can fight and I knew when to dodge your punches. It's how I can fight out there. I also know you need to lower your elbow when you throw a right hook; it's too high. Me saying that really pissed you off.....You're giving me the middle finger right now.....I know you don't like looking at the sunglasses either at the moment; it's making you uncomfortable, because every time you turn to look my way you see the sunglasses and look away. Beyond that? I know you try to seem like you like more expensive wine than you do. You're happy with a cheap moscato but seem to think I'll judge you for it because you lie about the brand and think I haven't noticed. I know when you found a new favorite candle brand a few months ago and have been switching all the scents over to it because the wax itself smelled different as it burned. I know before you came here you stopped at our favorite Italian place after walking past our favorite Irish pub because you were likely reminiscing and you had red wine which means you're in a hell of a mood. And it's not settling well after working out this hard for this long."

He pauses. You say nothing. Because it's still shock. Matt takes another step forward.

"You want more? Fine. I know you better than your cycle tracking app, I know when you're bleeding and when you've stopped before you tell me. I know when you're ovulating because your scent changes and it drives me absolutely fucking wild and I can't keep my hands off you. I know me saying this makes you feel embarrassed for some reason but it also turns you on, which I know because I can sense that based on your heart rate, body temperature and I can smell it. You also get turned on when I practice closing arguments... and sometimes in church? But that's something to talk about later. Saying that made you want to hit me again; your heart rate spiked with anger. And I knew when the scent of salt in the air here switched from sweat to tears. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You nod defiantly, fighting back both the tears he mentioned and more anger. You don't say a word. You go back to punching the now bloody bag, unwilling to give up the fight just yet.

"Are you ever going to be able to forgive me?" He finally asks, and it sounds nearly like a desperate plea. You bite at your lip. Can you? It's so much to digest; you've been an open book to him for so long and you had no idea. It feels like a betrayal. He truly knows everything about you, and here you are just learning the truth of his life and his world. It makes you feel so unbelievably foolish and vulnerable.

...and it makes you feel unspeakably sad.

Because on the nights when he didn't answer the phone or canceled dates it meant he had been out there. Being Daredevil. And every time there could have been a chance he never came back.

You sniffle once and keep your focus on the brutal battle your hands are facing. You're wincing now with every throw. God, you're so fucking exhausted.

"Y/n, you need to stop." You punch the bag harder, the smell of blood gets stronger. Every punch feels like it's landing on his chest. "You're hurting yourself."

"You hurt yourself every time you go out there in that suit!" You scream out, the words tearing through you like a knife. There it is. There's an edge to your voice, covering up the tears that had now fully misted over your eyes. Your hands are killing you but so are his secrets. What you could lose....that's killing you too.

You could lose him.

Your heart is clenched tight with the tears building up. The pressure valve on your emotions about to break free to release the crushing burden inside you.

You punch out once more, and with speed unlike anything you can can imagine, Matt catches your fist in his palm, taking the brunt of the blow. You cry out at the pain as he holds you there. "Enough...." his voice is barely above a whisper. Your shoulders begin to shake, everything about to give way. He waves the white flag. "If you're that angry at me then hit me. I won't move. Go on. Hit me."

You burst out into sobs and collapse in his arms.

He grips you safely and securely in his strong arms as he slowly lowers you both to the floor, your hands clutching his soaking wet sweatshirt as you cry and cry. He only takes his hand away from you to take off the sunglasses, setting them aside on the ground so you could see his entire face.

He touches your fists, knuckles bloody on top and white underneath from clinging to him so tightly. As if you could hold on tight enough that he'd never leave your side again. He helps you release your right hand first, lifting it to his mouth and he brushes his lips to the top of your damaged hand. You hiss out through the tears at the contact but at the same time it feels so soothing, so comforting. He takes your left hand next and does the same; a gentle few kisses to the top of your hand.

He releases them and your hands move across his clothes, to all the places that you know underneath show brutal scars. "Oh, Matty..." it starts another wave of sobs. You'd had no idea before where those scars had come from. Now you did. He pulls you in so tight, hugging and keeping you so close and rocking you back and forth, hands moving up and down your back as he tries to calm you down.

"Shhh...it's ok. It's ok. I know. It's a lot - "

"It's a shit ton, Matt!" You whine out. He nods, keeps rocking you back and forth. "I'm just scared. I can't lose you..." You fight to move your hand up to caress his cheek.

"I know. And I shouldn't have kept all of this from you for as long as I did, and I'm sorry for that. I was just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart," he kisses the top of your head, moving his hands to move his fingers softly through your hair, just keeping you close to him.

"And who keeps you safe, Daredevil?" You ask looking up at him, gazing up at his face, those sinfully beautiful eyes. It's the first time you've called him that without anger, but with love. Your breathing has started to calm, heart rate lowering as you two talked it through.

"You do, Y/n." You snort and have to wipe your nose. "I mean it. You....you ground me. You gave my life more meaning. Even more purpose. Yes, I'm passionate about the the work I do, and I love and protect my city. But before... I went out and there were days that if I didn't come back I would have considered it worthy to give my life and my body for New York. But I fight harder now, for you, for us. For our future. I fight harder to come home to you. I have just as much to lose now. Both Matt Murdock, Daredevil.... my life and my body don't just belong to this city anymore." He reaches out and he touches your bloody hands to his chest and his heart. "They belong to you. If you'll have them."

You throw your arms around him, launching yourself at him, knocking you both to the ground of gym floor. Accepting him. All of him. Every side and every piece of him. And he embraces you back all the same, kissing you, clinging to you. Wiping away what remained of the tears.

Together you stand. You pick up his sunglasses up off the floor and hand them to him.

"Come on....let's get out of here. I can take care of these," Matt says holding your hands, kissing them both one more time. "And then we're both taking a nap. Are these acceptable terms?"

You nod, resting your head against his chest letting out a sleep sight. "Sure thing counsellor." Exhausted, you wrap your arms around him, hold him close, hold him tight. So he never forgets to come back and come home to you. Matt hugs you back just as tight, silently promising that as long as it was within his power, he would always come home to you.

"Matt? I love you. All of you." He kisses the top of your head in return.

"I love you too. So much, sweetheart." He gives you one more kiss as the sun begins to rise on another day in Hell's Kitchen. "Let's go home."

No more battles. No more half truths. It was real. It felt like a promise, a bigger commitment than even moving in together or sharing secret identities.

It felt like forever

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yeonjunszn · 2 years

Text

every summertime

pairing: sim jake x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: fluff﹒angst

warnings: mature language, childhood best friends to lovers-ish bc well you’ll see, high school!au, non-idol!au

summary: the trials and tribulations of sim jake’s feelings for you, his best friend since he was seven years old, told through multiple summers.

more: this was very loosely based off of my hc from my “enhypen as my favorite tropes” collection. really only the trope was used. ++ which reminds me — i started writing this MONTHS ago, like jan/feb i’m pretty sure 😭 it was supposed to be longer, but i didn’t think it needed to be dragged out any more. i’m satisfied with the way it turned out 🤩

playlist: every summertime — niki, this love — taylor swift, our summer — tomorrow x together, 20cm — tomorrow x together, tfw — enhypen, just a little bit — enhypen

when you were seven, you didn’t understand most things. you were barely learning how to properly read and write, how to count to one hundred, how to color between the lines, and how to tie your shoes. you couldn’t grasp what the concept of love meant. you just knew that you automatically loved your parents and they loved you.

and your best friend in the entire world, sim jaeyun— or, jake.

you met jake in elementary school on the playground. it was the classic sandbox story that most people tell when it comes to reminiscing about how they met their childhood friend. he had been playing by himself and you wondered why that was, especially since the sandbox was usually a very popular spot during recess time.

so you made your way over to him and introduced yourself, giving small seven year old jake the firmest handshake you could manage. he accepted you warmly, the smile on his face so endearing it felt as if you’d known him your entire life. it was odd to feel such a way at a young age, but you were okay with it if it meant you got to have a new friend.

after that day, you and jake stayed attached at the hip. everywhere he went, so did you, following each other around like lost puppies. there were obviously a few occasions when you couldn’t hang out, and your parents recall the way both of you sulked, missing your partner in crime.

one afternoon during the summer before third grade, you’d been playing in his backyard. you enjoyed pretending to be a princess while he pretended he was your knight in shining armor, saving you from danger. you remember sitting inside his treehouse with him, a plastic tiara on your head and a cup of apple juice in your hand. he was standing beside you, his arms crossed like he was your own personal bodyguard.

you poked his knee and offered him some juice, to which he happily sipped. with his signature boyish grin, he wipes away the remnants on his upper lip with the back of his hand and looks down at you.

“one day, me and you will have our own really big house and i can protect you for real!” jake exclaimed, striking a silly superhero pose. you giggle at his attempt to be cool.

“we have to get married first, jakey,” you say pointedly. “only people who are married live together. like our mommies and daddies.”

“hmm, okay! then we will get married!” he decides, plopping himself down so he can drink more of your juice. you nod excitedly in agreement, holding out your cup to him.

all throughout the rest of your years in elementary school, it remained like this. two peas in a pod, two halves of the same whole. someone wanted to talk to you? they had to talk to jake too. he had a doctors appointment? you tagged along and held his hand.

by the time middle school began, you’d both changed only slightly. just a little bit older, your habits didn’t completely die out. jake made some new friends and so did you, but that wasn’t the end of the world. you still walked home together from school, planned something every weekend, and then forced your friend groups to combine.

people could only separate the real world equivalent of peanut butter and jelly for so long.

this was when jake met three members of what would be his long term friend group; lee heeseung, park jongseong (jay), and park sunghoon. sunghoon and jay were the same age as you while heeseung was a year older. you also met your own two friends, chai soomin and sun yoonah.

“jake,” heeseung starts, wiping away sweat from his forehead. “why are you always with y/n? i think this is the first time in months we’ve hung out with just the guys.”

the brunette places his foot on top of the soccer ball to stop it from rolling. he furrows his brows at his friend’s question. “what do you mean?”

“it’s not really a bad thing, we’re just curious why you’re practically glued to each other.” jay adds before gulping down the rest of his water.

“oh— uh— i don’t know. she was my first real friend, i guess, and we’ve always just clicked. we grew up together, y’know? no one understands me better than she does.” he explains.

he saw where they were coming from. it was nearing the beginning of their high school careers and it wouldn’t be the best for his reputation to be synonymous with you. it wasn’t meant to be mean in any way, but if he ever wanted to get a girlfriend, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate having you constantly in the mix.

fortunately, he never really cared about superficial things like that. you were more important to him. thirteen year old sim jake had his priorities straight.

fourteen year old sim jake was a different story, however.

the summer right before high school, he finally noticed just how much you’d grown since you were little kids. your features and other aspects of yourself had matured right in front of his eyes and he hadn’t even realized it.

he remembered being so excited about going to school with heeseung again, blabbering about it all with sunghoon and jay. but now he wasn’t so sure that he was ready for everyone else to see you too. he wanted to hide you away and not allow any other male to bestow upon your beauty, like you were a fragile vase.

while jake was extremely smart, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he felt like this. he thought maybe he was just worried you’d replace him once you were thrown into a bigger body of water. high school was like a sea compared to the pond that was middle school. and if he was lucky, he’d hold on until university— which was an entire ocean.

“hey, you okay?” your voice interrupts his internal suffering. he also realizes the music you’d been listening to had paused, the earphones you’d been sharing playing nothing. he blinks, forcing the biggest smile he can muster.

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

you shrug, pondering it for a moment, but ultimately fall short. you return to reading the book in your hands, putting your earphone back in and reaching into the bowl between the two of you for a grape. with your focus off of him, he takes a minute to stare and get a good look at you. he’s seen you in this setting numerous times— probably more than he could count on both hands— but this one feels different. the soundtrack of your favorite k-drama filling the background amplifies everything. the grass of his backyard appears greener than usual. the fibers of the blanket beneath you feel softer under his fingertips. the sound of the birds chirping is louder, almost ringing in his ears. the sunlight makes your skin glow.

and then he gets it.

now he understood why you were so special to him. why you were more important than superficial things. he understood why he wanted you all to himself. why he felt like you were such a fragile vase.

he was terrified.

it was halfway through your first year of high school that you started being more confident in your skin. you shared your first kiss with some random boy behind the school and it absolutely sucked. you both had no idea what you were doing and he accidentally bumped your forehead really hard with his own when he was leaning in. you didn’t quite get why jake seemed so upset after you told him about it. you figured he just felt sorry for you.

it didn’t matter anyways, because with heeseung’s seniority and popularity, the other boys quickly became heartthrobs themselves at belift high. soomin, yoonah and yourself were considered it girls, too. it helped that you were already friends with the most sought after guys in the whole school.

when the summer rolled around, everyone was different in one way or another.

heeseung was going into his third and final year of high school, while the rest of you were going into your second. you could tell how much he transformed since middle school. it was no wonder why everyone either wanted him or wanted to be him. it struck you like lightning when you came to your senses and registered why you started to stare at him more and more. of course you’d developed a silly crush.

one day, the seven of you were at jay’s house utilizing his huge underground pool to cool down in the heat of the summer sun. while you and the girls were getting ready, you tried on numerous bathing suits until you came across the cutest one you owned to catch his eye, a white bikini with a slight shimmer to the material. soomin and yoonah were losing their minds, so sure that heeseung would do the same when he saw you.

the two of them were playing chicken with sunghoon and jay in the pool and you were sunbathing on a lounge chair, sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose to hide the way you were ogling heeseung’s bare chest every now and then. he jumped out of the pool, laughing at the dramatic way yoonah fell backwards into the water. you felt hearts in your eyes at the sight of his brown tresses dripping onto his broad shoulders, his skin glowing.

he pushes his hair back and walks over to where you’re laying, plopping himself on the edge of the chair. you pretend to ignore him for about five minutes before he decides to physically get your attention. he stands over you, shaking his hair similarly to a dog.

“hee!” you jump up, goosebumps littering your body from the droplets that landed on you. he laughs at your reaction, nearly falling over.

“you weren’t looking at me. i needed to get you to somehow.” he shrugs, his signature smile appearing. the one that could rival the brightest of stars. if you were stupid, you’d think he was being polite. but you were not. and you’ve been flirted with plenty of times to know that that’s exactly what he’s doing. you slide your sunglasses down just enough so he could see your eyes and blink up at him.

“how do you know i wasn’t?”

your response catches him off guard, but his smile doesn’t waver. he returns to his spot at the edge of your chair, one leg on either side as he scoots toward you, your own curled up to your chest. he pushes the sunglasses up on top of your head. “are you flirting with me?”

“maybe.” you purse your lips and raise your shoulders, reciprocating his earlier action. heeseung laughs again, not as loud as the first one, but a sweet laugh that erupts butterflies in your stomach. he leans back onto his hands.

“you’re something else, l/n y/n.”

from inside the house, jake watches the entire interaction with a strong urge to clutch at his heart like it’s been torn in two. he knows he has no right to be upset, it’s not like you were his girlfriend or anything and neither of the guys were aware of his feelings for you. so all he could do was this; sit on the sidelines while you fell for someone who wasn't him.

you and heeseung start dating a couple weeks later.

the rest of your friends adjust to the relationship pretty quickly. (except for jake; he still had a hard time getting used to you holding heeseung’s hand and the two of you parading your relationship around everywhere.)

when school starts back up, things are pretty much the same. girls watch with envy as heeseung walks you to and from classes, leaving lingering kisses on your cheeks or the corner of your mouth.

the sight never fails to make jake’s chest feel tighter, constricting almost, and he has to find alternate routes to get to his own classes just to avoid the pda. while he’d like to support you, he knows seeing it for himself only hinders the ability to quell the ache in his heart.

***

“why didn’t you ever tell her, dude?” sunghoon asks through his mic.

“i-i don’t know,” jake gulps, forcing his emotions back down his throat. the pair were playing some video game together when the topic of his feelings towards you surfaced. “i didn’t want to make it weird, i guess. but it’s not like it matters anyways. she was clearly preoccupied thinking about heeseung all along.”

his friend hums on the other side of the mic, adjusting his headset. “you’re not giving her enough credit, you know? things might be different right now had you confessed a long time ago.”

he breathes heavily through his nose, sunghoon’s words resonating in his ears. maybe he was right. maybe he could’ve been on the phone with you instead of the boy had he said something to you way back when. but he was already almost a year too late and he’d have to accept that fact.

“jake?” your voice filters through his phone speaker and immediately he can tell something’s wrong. there’s a sniffle at the end of his name and he can hear the slight unease in each syllable. he’s been there too many times to not know you’d been crying.

he rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up, switching on his bedside lamp. “hey, what’s wrong? are you okay?”

“um—“ you pause and sniffle again. “h-heeseung and i just broke up.”

very deep down inside, a part of himself is jumping for joy. but the bigger part was just as hurt as you, upset that you were going through this. he exhales in an almost exaggerated fashion and runs a hand through his hair. “do you want me to come get you?”

“y-yes.”

and that’s all the confirmation he needed to slip on a hoodie and some shoes, driving over to your house. he didn’t care that it was two in the morning, he’d always drop anything and everything for you. that’d been the case since he met you.

when he pulls up, his heart wrenches at the sight of you sitting on the front steps of your house waiting for him, slippers on your feet and a hood pulled over your head. the streaks of makeup on your cheeks weren’t subtle either. you looked so empty— a sight he hadn’t seen since your childhood dog passed away in middle school.

you slide into the passenger seat, pulling your knees up to your chest and staring out of the windshield ghost-like. jake swallows thickly. “where do you wanna go?”

“anywhere. please.” your tone is hollow but desperate at the same time.

he just nods and puts the car in drive, no destination in particular on his mind. he wants to ask what happened, what went wrong because he was so sure the two of you were a perfect couple. to be fair, you never came to him if you had relationship problems. he assumes his friendship with heeseung had everything to do with that. but it just further confused him as to why you were now. yoonah and soomin were capable of handling this, weren’t they?

“he’s leaving for school at the end of the summer and he thinks us being together would make his transition to university too difficult,” you eventually say after thirty minutes of silence. “i don’t blame him for not wanting to go into college with a girlfriend who’s still in high school, but i just thought maybe he loved me enough to try to work through it.”

“y/n—” he starts, his eyes still trained on the road out of fear that he’d crash if he turned and saw the pain on your features.

“maybe i’m just stupid,” you sigh, interrupting whatever he was planning on saying. “it was naive of me to think that in the first place. it’s not like we were together for an entire year or anything.”

it’s that subtle belittling towards yourself that has him pulling over on the side of the road and switching on his hazards without a second thought. your eyes widen as they meet his, an unreadable intensity swimming inside the chocolate brown staring back at you.

“don’t you dare say that ever again,” he commands with a deep set frown. “you’re not stupid. you’re human. if anyone is stupid in this situation, it’s heeseung for letting go of the best thing that has ever happened to him. i don’t care if he’s my friend, you always come first. and i’ll be damned if i sit here and listen to you talk that way about yourself because he was too much of an idiot to see what he’s gonna miss out on while he’s gone. it’s his fucking loss. you’re perfect the way you are—”

his own eyes mimic yours, as if he’s said too much, and his lips snap shut. you think that’s the most jake has said to you all at once in the past year. it was a lot to process, an overwhelming amount of words barreling at you full speed before they hit you like a train.

it all clicks together instantaneously after that.

the way he never hesitated to put you above anyone or thing. the way he trusted you with all there was to know about himself, his insecurities and his passions. the way the corners of his mouth curled upwards just a bit more than usual when you were in the room. the way he made you feel secure from day one — even if you were seven.

and the barely-there-but-still-present distance between you ever since you began dating heeseung. the sharp looks he sent in the other male’s direction when he thought you weren’t paying attention. the hint of sadness behind all of his smiles when he was around the two of you.

jake was in love with you.

your brain flips and turns, wracking itself to figure out why you never discovered this sooner. you think back to the summers in elementary school, in his treehouse. that warm afternoon before third grade and the promise that he would marry you someday to ensure he’d always protect you. that summer day in his backyard, sitting on that blanket with him, continuing to read your romance novel despite the heat threatening to bloom on your cheeks from the unprompted attention he was giving you. you should’ve known then, he was quite literally telling you without saying the words.

and if the unbridled adoration in his eyes was anything to go by, the feeling never went away.

your lips part at the flutter in your stomach when your mind finally catches up to you. jake’s gaze flickers down for a second that you might’ve missed had your focus not been on him the entire time. you don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours since the last words were spoken, but you don’t mind the silence. it’s thick with tension, but somehow comfortable at the same time.

it’s too much and too little to comprehend all at once. and he knows you know now. you have him in the palm of your hand, wrapped around your finger without even trying. so he leans in and reaches out, cupping your face gently.

you involuntarily relax into his touch, a sigh of what sounds like relief escaping you. “jake—”

“shhh,” he coos, caressing your skin with his thumb. “we don’t have to talk about it right now.”

your heart overpowers your head at that moment. you don’t know if it’s because you know that he loves you in a non-platonic way or if it’s because he’s treating you so tenderly despite the fact that you were crying over his best friend not that long ago.

you press your lips to the heel of his palm softly, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, pulling it into your lap. “i’m sorry it took me this long to realize. but thank you, for being so patient. please keep doing so.”

he gives you a small smile, pushing down your hood and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a nod. “of course. i’ll hold out for you forever if i have to. you’re worth the wait.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen jaeyun #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jake #sim jake x reader #sim jake fluff #jake sim #jake sim x reader #yeonjunszn

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hoeneypirate · 3 years

Text

An Almost Autumn Night

Shinsou x fem reader

CollegeAU juniors in college

Warnings- exhibition(sex on the roof) fingering, use of the word puppy, size kink, praise, use of marijuana, drugs, sex under the influence of marijuana, not using a condom(don’t be like this)

Minors DNI

Extremely unedited because I’m too shy to reread it again right now.

Your feet tapped against the hard floor of the elevator as you watched the numbers get higher and higher. Once you reach the top floor your heart is propelling you forward towards the door to the roof.

When you open the door you shove your hands into the front pocket of your (his) hoodie, the soft chill of the night making you realize how close autumn is.

You feel your smile getting bigger the closer you got, by the time you round the corner you’re grinning. “Finally” he says “I’ve been waiting for you” you chuckle and take your spot beside him on his pile of blankets, pulling the one on his shoulders up over yours as well. “Sorry Shin, my group” he sighs “that girl still doing whatever she wants even though you’ve shown her how the technology worked?” You groan “yes! And it skews our data! we have to spend an extra thirty minutes fixing her shit!” I can’t wait until this semester is over.” He smiles and pats your knee “I have just the thing” you laugh when he pulls out a bong from his backpack.

He takes out his water bottle and fills it before grabbing his baggie and packing the bowl. “You always know what I need. Tell me when you get more, I’ll pitch in since I’ve been smoking your stash” he smiles and blushes. Honestly he doesn’t care that you smoke his stash. He loves to see your soft smile and hooded eyes as you look at him stoned and peaceful. Loves the way your mind expands when you’re high and the conversations you get into.

“First ones all you” he says and hands you the bong and his little torch lighter. “You know the way to my heart” you say with a smile as you take them from his hands, making sure to brush them gently but laughing when he gasps at how cold they are “not all of us can be hot blooded” you say and wink at him as you bring the bong to your lips. He never thought he could be this jealous about a bong but damn. Your lips look so good.

You pull back and look to his eyes, smiling sweetly it makes his heart race. You exhale as he takes a hit and you laugh “I never get over your iron lungs” you say and he smiles as he holds the smoke in for moment “practice” he says as he exhales and you laugh again, already feeling your skin tingle and your brain feeling lighter.

You smoke and talk about classes and your stupid roommates for a few minutes and after it’s quiet for a moment you lean against his shoulder and pull out your AirPods “here” you say handing him the left one and you put the right in your ear, starting your high playlist you made together.

He sighs and places the bong and all of his things as he wraps the blanket around him tighter and leaning onto his knees. “This is so nice” he says quietly and you wrap your arm around his back, tucking your body against him and placing your ear against his back “yes it is” you whisper as you try to steal his warmth. “I’m jealous of your warmth” you say as the song changes, making your skin feel extra tingly, like your body is made out of smoke.

“You can have as much of it as you want”he says with a laugh, feeling so easygoing and relaxed he was finally free of his nerves to be around you. He felt like nothing matters except you guys together on the roof at this moment. He moves and wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his scent and warmth. You smile up at him as you move your other arm around his waist.

“God y/n” he says after you guys had sat for who knows how long five minutes of fifty you had no idea, just looking into each other’s eyes and smiling at each other. Lost in the music and each other’s eyes. You chuckle softly “what?” You ask and he tucks your hair behind your ear as you lean against his shoulder “you’re my best friend and I’d never do anything to ruin that but fuck i want to kiss you so bad” he says, his voice deepening at the end of the sentence as Take Me Where Your Heart Is by Q starts playing.

You chuckle at the irony of the song before cupping his cheek and leaning up just so until your lips brush his.

You sigh into him as your lips tingle against his, an effect of the weed. You giggle when his hands grip your hips and pull you to straddle his lap, easily like it was nothing for his strong arms. You brace yourself on his shoulders and when your hips come in contact with his you gasp softly and deepens the kiss, his tongue softly running along the side of yours. You were so lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the taste of his coconut burts bees chapstick, and the music in your right ear that you didn’t register the soft whimpers coming from you.

When he moaned though, you noticed that. It spurred you on. You had to hear it again. You repeated that action and he moaned into a soft pleasurable sigh. He pulls back and looks up at you, his thumb grazing your cheek “I’ve wanted this for so long” he whispers dreamily and you smile as you run your fingers through his hair. He’s looking at you like you’re the center of his universe and if you asked him he’d tell you you were staring at him the exact same way.

You hum happily and move your hands down to his chest “kissing you is better than I imagined” you say and he sighs softly, his eyes bloodshot and half closed as he smiles up at you. You lean down slowly and connect your lips to his again, missing the feeling of him against your lips.

You kiss him slow and sloppy, just focused on how good you were feeling. His hands slowly roamed your body, groping and showing love to where ever he could hold. You moan against his lips and pull his hair gently, grinding your hips slowly against his to get some friction causing him to moan deeply, rumbling into you. “Fuck puppy” he says breathlessly as you repeat the action and you chuckle “god you feel so good Shin” you say just as breathlessly and he blushes at your tone. He starts to kiss up your neck, sloppy and nipping at your skin softly.

His hands move to your hips as he guides you down against him again, growling into your ear as his eyes close. You moan softly as his bulge rubs through your panties, hitting your clit perfectly and drawing your attention to have drenched your panties were. “Do that again” you mumble with a breathless laugh against the side of his face as you kiss across his cheek. “Like that did you?” He asks and you nod, capturing his lips with your own as he bucks his hips up into you as he pulls you down against him. “Fuck you’re big huh?” You whisper as you feel tingles erupt through your body from the way his bulge hits you in the perfect place, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Do you wanna see?” He asks and you whine and nod, peppering kissing against his neck, sucking hickies you were excited to see in the morning.

“Shinsou” you moan as he rubs you down against him, causing him to groan and through his head back “I want you” he says, voice thick with desire, you chuckle softly kissing across his Adam’s apple and up to his jaw “I guessed that” you said and ground your hips down, hitting him in just the right spot that made you both moan and your back and chest tingle, your nipples hardening against your shirt you thanked the gods for not wearing a bra and you patted yourself on the back for wearing a skirt when his fingers brushed against your clit over your panties.

You gasp and shudder as his fingers brush up and down through your folds on top of your panties “is this all for me puppy? You’re so wet already” his voice was low and his eyes were dark as he gazed up at you “and you’re hard as a rock” you say with a teasing bite to his bottom lip

he smirks, feeling cocky “well that’s two halves of a whole” he says and you chuckle for a second before it turns into a shuddering moan as his digit slips under your underwear, rubbing your clit slowly in a circle.

“Makes that sound again” he says and suck on your neck as he dips two fingers inside of your dripping hole. You gasp and moan as your walls clench around his thick digits “fuuuck” you moan as he curls his fingers up, placing the pad of his thumb against your clit as his other hand reaches up under your sweatshirt only to gasp when his hand finds bare skin.

“Fuck puppy. You’re perfect” he whispers and you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers play with your left nipple, his thumb softly rubbing in a circle against your clit as his thick fingers slowly pump and curl inside of you. Moans fall from your lips, warm tingles rocking through your body like waves, he looks up at you like you’re an angel

“Look at me puppy” he says as he feels your walls flutter and clench him as you near your orgasm. You whine and look down at him, your belly erupting in butterflies at his gaze. “You’re beautiful” he says as you gasp then moan as your orgasm hits you harder than before, cumming around his fingers as you keep your eyes on his.

“Hitoshi. Need you” you mumble as you collapse against his shoulder he slips his fingers free from your cunt and brings his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean as you watch, hypnotized by his actions. “Tell me what you need my sweet girl” he says and you sigh happily leaning in to kiss him. “I need you” you mumble against his lips. “I’m right here baby” he says like it’s obvious and you whine, making his dick twitch as it strains against his boxers.

“Please Hitoshi. Fuck me” you whimper and he groans, a shudder wracking his body as those words fall from your lips, words that he has only dreamed about you saying. He feels his body tingle and smiles, bringing your mouth to his with one hand as the other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

You stop his hands and hum when he lets you take over. You unzip his jeans and push them down before slowly pushing down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. You feel your mouth water when you look down and see how big it truly is. “Fuck ‘Toshi you’re so big” you moan and he smiles shyly, pecking the corner of your mouth, moaning in his chest as you slowly pump your hand up and down his length.

“I’ve always loved this skirt” he whispers as he pushes it up and tucks it into your waistband. “I’ve noticed you staring at my thighs before” you whsiper and his cheeks flush, his cock twitching in your hand “that’s why I wear it so much” you admit, your cheeks flushing to match his.

Your thumb rubs the bead of pre cum around his red tip and his body shudders “fuuuck y/n” he moans and you kiss him deeply before you stand, dropping his cock for a moment as you skip your panties off, shoving them in the side pocket of his flannel he had on making him curse under his breath. You kneel down again as he slowly pumps his length and you cup his cheeks and card your fingers through his hair above his ears.

You reach down and take his cock from him, pressing you lips to his and kissing him deeply, your tongue sloppily wrapping around his as you run his cock head through your dripping folds. The head catches your hole and you moan and sink your hips down. You moan together as his head pushes through, stretching you beautifully. “Fuck ‘Toshi. So big” you moan and place your hands in his neck, bracing yourself and you sink down on him until he was fully sheathed.

“Look at that baby girl” he says and looks at where you’re connected. He reaches down and rubs your sensitive clit slowly, moaning when you clench around him. “You take me so well puppy” he says and his hands move to your hips, guiding you up and slamming you back down against him. “Fuck!” You moaned as he bit and sucked the skin against your collarbone. “You sound so pretty. Take me so well. My perfect puppy” he’s moaning as his body tingles. His praises make you clench against him and he moans, his hands pushing your hoodie up to expose your chest. He moans at the sight “so soft. So perfect” he says and kisses across your breasts, showing love to every inch before taking your left nipple into his mouth making you shudder and gasp out his name “Toshi yes yes please” you say and he starts to buck his hips up, matching the pace he has been set.

“God you feel so good. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long Shin” you admit as you feel waves of pleasurable tingles wrack your body as you near your peak. The cord you feel in your belly getting tighter and tighter. “Seriously?” He asks breathlessly and you nod quickly “I’m pretty sure I love you” you say and he stops movements and for a second you think you’ve said something wrong. “You love me?” He asks softly, brushing your hair behind your shoulder. You blush, like his cock isn’t fully buried in your cunt, and nod slowly “I love you too” he says with a soft chuckle and you feel yourself clench around him.

“Does my sweet girl like that?” He whispers and you whine with a nod and he slowly pulls your hips up almost all the way and then slams you back on making you moan probably a little too loud as he kept slowly repeating the action “you take me so well feel so good and tight. So beautiful. You treat me so well puppy. I love you so much” you gasp, your breathing erratic “Toshi I’m gonna cum” you say and he chuckles, his fingers gripping you tighter as his actions stay in their slow pace, dragging it out as he slams you down against him a little harder and you can hardly breathe as his lips wrap around your nipple again “Toshi please please please” “please what puppy” you moan and kiss his lips sloppily moaning against him and when you pull back a string of spit connects your bottom lips “please make me cum Hitoshi” you moan and he moans deep in his chest and picks up the pace, slamming you down on his cock harder and fast as you gasp and moan his name “I’m gonna cum” you gasp out and your name falls from his lips like a prayer “cum for me y/n” he grunts and you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders tight, your orgasm wracking through your body like you just witnessed the face of god. Your world feels like it explodes for a solid ten seconds, your eyes never leaving his. You pant as your head collapses against his shoulder. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly, bearing his edge as he keeps it together as long as possible “yes yes” you moan and pant, kissing and sucking his neck “cum inside me” you whsiper into his ear and he moans as he slams you down and his motions stop as you feel his cock twitch as hot cum spills into you.

You stay there as his fingers trail up and down your spine softly as you both catch your breath. “That was amazing” you whispered and he chuckled, shifting you slightly so his softening dick could slide out of you and you frown at the feeling of his cum sliding out of you with it. He holds your chin and pulls your face to look into your eyes “please tell me that you telling me you love me wasn’t a high hallucination” you laugh and kiss his lips softly, gently against your swollen lips. “I love you Hitoshi”

(Bonus)

It took you fifteen minutes to find where your AirPods fell. He had to hold the blankets over his crotch on the elevator ride to your apartment floor, his cum leaking out into his jeans as you stayed embraced for a while on the roof until you shivered and invited him back for some dinner and a shower even though he lived right across the hall. You kept stealing glances at him in the mirrored wall of the elevator doors as you held hands, feeling a little shy and bashful. Your friendship will never be the same and you know every time you go smoke on the roof you’ll think of this but you wouldn’t change anything. “I love you” he says and kisses your cheek softly once you’re inside your apartment and you laugh “I love you too”

#shinsou smut #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader smut #shinsou x y/n smut #mha smut #bnha smut #shinsou x female reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader

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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 13: “Apollo’s Lyre”

Image of the Apollo statue on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier from Wikimedia Commons

<< Previous Chapter

The chapter “Apollo’s Lyre” constitutes the basis for the “rooftop scene” between Raoul and Christine in the ALW version, but in the book, it is really all about Erik. It’s quite possibly the most important chapter in the novel because we meet our title hero face-to-face for the first time, and because Erik overhearing Christine‘s plan to escape provides a turning-point for the plot.

The symbol of Apollo's Lyre is not only present in the Apollo statue on the highest point of the rooftop (that Erik is supposedly clinging to here), but also adorns the chandelier both in the Palais Garnier and in the original production of the musical.

At the end of the preceding chapter, Raoul had vowed to take Christine away, but she is still at war with herself about the idea. She wants to leave because she is afraid, but at the same time, warns Raoul that he will probably need to force her to leave since she isn’t emotionally ready to let go:

““But if I refuse to go with you when the time comes for you to take me away, you must make me go!” [...] she spoke these words with a forcefulness that seemed to be directed against herself.”

Every time Raoul offers to take her away right then and there, Christine refuses with an excuse of why it’s not possible to leave just now. Yet she is afraid that the next time she goes to Erik, she may never leave again. Erik seems to make her feel very deeply - but too much feeling can be very terrifying, especially if it’s a wild ride on that emotional rollercoaster of ecstasy, horror, pity, despair and passion that he sends her on. It’s no wonder she rationally wants to get out before it consumes her, and yet is afraid of losing it.

While she begins telling Raoul the whole story from her perspective, they repeatedly think they hear sighs, but still remain in the same place. This is a bit odd, considering how they kept running around before, but now, Christine insists that they stay, which is a bit curious. It is possible that she thought they were safe - but considering her general unwillingness to leave, I think it is even possible that she might be subconsciously sabotaging her own escape plan.

When Christine speaks about how she first met Erik, it becomes clear that masquerading as the Angel of Music was not initially Erik‘s idea. When Christine heard Erik in her dressing-room for the first time three months ago, he sang and spoke to her like a real man, except that he had this beautiful angelic voice and was hiding in the passage behind her room, so that he could not be seen. The first person to suggest that he might indeed be the Angel of Music is Mama Valerius, who prompts Christine to ask Erik if he is the Angel her father had sent for her. Erik jumps at the opportunity presented to him and confirms that her assumption is correct, and asks if she will let him teach her. She consents, and together they make amazing progress, developing both Christine’s technique and her inspiration to hitherto unknown heights.

One day, Christine sees Raoul at the Opera, and eagerly tells Erik about it. I bet he bitterly cursed himself then for passing himself off as an Angel, leaving enough space in Christine’s heart for a real man. But his threats to leave cause her to despair and to try to ignore Raoul - also because a marriage to him would be out of her reach anyway. Now it’s Erik’s turn to whine and accuse Christine of being in love with Raoul in the same way we’ve seen Raoul do before. But just like with Raoul, she won’t have that and even challenges Erik that she will ask Raoul to accompany her to Perros. According to her, Erik’s jealous reaction made her realize that she loved Raoul. I wonder if madly jealous Raoul also made her realize that she might possibly be just a little bit in love with two very different men?

Subconsciously, she seems to kind of know already that Erik is not really an angel, because when the chandelier falls, she is half-mad with panic and terribly afraid that it may have killed “the Voice” (and it would be a bit difficult to kill a heavenly being even if you dropped a chandelier on it). She also admits that then, Raoul and Erik were both “the equal halves of her heart” (and I think they still are, beneath all the complications that have arisen in the meantime). She runs to her dressing-room because that is where she is most likely to find “the Voice”, and when she hears the sounds of Erik singing and playing the “Resurrection of Lazarus” on his violin, she follows his voice through the mirror without being able to say how exactly she disappeared through it. She suddenly finds herself being gripped by a man in a black cloak and a full-face mask and tries to fight back, but then faints. When she wakes, she is resting on the ground near a fountain, and Erik is gently tending to her, but doesn’t reply to her questions so as not to give himself away as “the Voice”. Christine recognizes César the horse, and realizes that even though she never believed in the ghost, she had heard the rumours about him stealing the horse.

Erik takes Christine to the house by the lake, first on César’s back (that’s what he needed the horse for, after all) and then in the famous boat (which is rowed in the novel). She is no longer terrified, but feels strangely peaceful - an effect which she attributes to the possibility of having been drugged, even though she admits that at the same time, she was still in full possession of her senses.

“Lake Averne”, the name of the lake under the Opera House, is a play on words as well as meaning. First, “lac averne” is almost the same as “la caverne”, which means “the cavern”. There is also a real lake named “Lago d’Averno” in Italy, and in Roman mythology, that lake is one of the entrances to the Underworld. This fits with the fact that Erik also bears characteristics of Charon, the ferryman to the Underworld, whose name can be literally translated as “with glowing eyes”. The iconic boat ride certainly resembles the passage into the Hades, which is even alluded to in the novel.

The water tank below the Palais Garnier. Image from atlasobscura.com

Let’s stay in the Underworld for a moment. “The Phantom of the Opera” can also be seen as a variation on the story of Hades and Persephone (Christine’s ship in “Love Never Dies” is not called “Persephone” for nothing). Hades, the god of the Underworld, fell in love with the young and beautiful Persephone and wanted to marry her, but as the goddess of spring, she wasn’t willing to abandon the world above and go to live in the Underworld. Therefore Hades abducted her, she finally consented to marry him and became queen of the Underworld. Due to the intervention of her infuriated mother Demeter, it was finally decided that she would divide her time between living on earth for some months every year and living in the Underworld for the rest of the time.

When they arrive, Erik sets a confused Christine down in his brightly lit drawing-room, which has been decorated with an enormous amount of golden baskets full of flowers. It is not quite clear where all the flowers come from, so I guess he bought them all for her. With a salary of 20,000 francs, he could probably afford the luxury of spending so much on flower decorations… He tells her that she is in no danger, as long as she doesn’t touch his mask. When Christine realizes that the Voice is not an angel, she starts crying. Erik then kneels down in front of her and proceeds to tell her without further ado who he is, begs her to forgive him, and lays his heart at her feet. He confesses how much he loves her, and how wrong his actions were, but that he did everything out of love for her. It seems that Erik was rather anxious to reveal the truth that he is not really the Angel of Music and end his deception, but at the same time, was waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to explain everything without the risk of her running away from him forever. Keep in mind that he took on the role of the Angel of Music for just a couple of months, not years as it is commonly assumed.

Christine then stands up to demand her freedom, and is taken aback when he actually concedes it to her, telling her that she is free to leave. But after all, she does not leave because he starts to play the harp and sing for her. The piece he is singing here is the “Canzone del Salice” from Rossini’s “Otello”, in which Desdemona laments the cruelty of love. It is often assumed that the „Otello“ Leroux is referencing here is the more famous “Otello” by Verdi, but that one didn’t premiere until 1887, while the story is definitely set before 1886. Furthermore, Rossini’s version of the “willow song” is the only one that starts with a harp solo. The song is included in the playlist, listen to it here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/25ILZhCIWIRjJVK8SqDWzn?si=U5EPiO_ySBOlIy5XvI1BGw&dl_branch=1

The next morning, Christine awakes on the couch in „her“ bedroom (aka the “Louis-Philippe room”) where Erik must have carried her after she had fallen asleep. When she can‘t get out, she suffers a fit of hysterics, although it seems that she has simply been unable to locate the door set within the wall. Erik has been out shopping for her, which is a rather cute scene when he comes back with all the boxes for her while she yells at him. He calmly tells her to get ready for lunch, and she slams the door in his face so she can take a bath in peace. She places a pair of scissors within reach so that she could kill herself if Erik “stopped behaving like an honourable man”. Her concern is understandable, being alone with the man who is madly in love with her, however it is important to note that Erik never physically forces himself on her throughout the story.

Remarkably, Erik’s house had both hot and cold running water, something that was still very rare then, which suggests that he actually lived in better hygienic conditions than most people at that time, and that he was a skilled engineer.

When she finally joins him, he tells her that she does not need to be afraid, and that all he asks for is that she will spend 5 days with him. After that, he hopes that she will come back to see “poor Erik” from time to time, shedding a few tears beneath his black mask as he speaks. He serves Christine lunch in the drawing-room, consisting of crayfish, chicken wings and Tokay wine, but he himself does again not eat or drink. From their conversation, we learn that Erik has taken on his name “by chance”, whatever that means. The meaning of the name is “sole ruler” which is quite fitting for him.

When Christine has finished eating, Erik invites her to see his room, and she doesn’t hesitate as she instinctively trusts him. Apparently Erik has a very gothic taste as far as room decorating goes, and all this also plays heavily into the death symbolism of his character. Erik sleeping in a coffin is reminiscent of vampire stories, especially because it seems to be a choice and not a necessity. There is also an organ with the score of “Don Juan Triumphant” on it, written in Erik’s customary red ink(?). Erik tells her that he started composing it 20 years ago. Christine asks him to play her something from his “Don Juan”, but Erik refuses because “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”. It is quite significant that the “sing for me” motif is absent from the novel version, in contrast to the ALW version where it is very strong. Erik, in the novel, has no plans for Christine to sing any of his music. He wants her companionship and her love, and he wants to sing together with her and lose himself in their shared passion for music, but he definitely does not see her as an instrument of sorts. He did help advance her career, but not with the intention of having her perform his work.

Erik makes it clear that his own music is very different from Mozart’s „Don Giovanni“ and from “opera music” in general. “Don Juan Triumphant” can be seen as an allusion to Lord Byron’s epic poem “Don Juan” (in which, incidentally, Don Juan is sold as a slave to the sultana of Constantinople).

He sits down at the piano and starts singing the duet from “Otello” with Christine. There is of course more than one duet in “Otello”, but this one is most likely “Non arrestare il colpo/Notte per me funesta” from Act III (here: https://open.spotify.com/track/151M60b3qxzqKLDFwIVuUB?si=WX4TDWCeQVmIChqd6u7CyQ&dl_branch=1 and here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ep1OncGZCNR9yFevG6Pb6?si=QzG2JztuQ42MDoiVrLAaew&dl_branch=1 ) In this scene, Othello accuses Desdemona of betraying him, while she tries to convince him that she is innocent. She realizes that she has fallen victim to Iago’s plot, but Othello does not believe her and stabs her. This opera, for once, is in Italian, while most of the other pieces that appear in the “Phantom” are sung in French.

The unmasking in the novel happens while Christine is swept up in the passion of her duet with Erik. She “stepped closer to him, attracted and fascinated, enticed by the idea of dying at the center of such passion. But before dying [she] wanted to see his face…”

It’s not like she is sneaking up to him out of pure curiosity, but rather reacting to an instinctive wish to pull away the barrier between them. The scene is even more tragic because with a normal face, the passionate mood that Christine was in would have potentially led to her kissing him. But sadly, his face is anything but normal, so Christine recoils in horror instead. Erik’s reaction to the unmasking is violent and horrific as he goes mad with rage at her, even hurting his own face with her fingernails - an expression of his self-loathing. Throughout the scene, Christine seems fixated on the horror of his face more than his behaviour, though. Ashamed of himself, Erik crawls out of the room and shuts himself up in his bedroom.

“Apollo’s Lyre” by Annie Stegg Gerard

Erik’s appearance as described in the novel is indeed bordering the realm of the fantastic and supernatural. He is so stuffed with death symbolism that it is hard to take everything literally. Christine’s description makes it rather hard to see him as “real” because he seems to look like something straight out of a nightmare.

It is important to note that Erik is not just run-of-the-mill ugly, but that he is very clearly associated with death in many ways - from sleeping in a coffin and having funeral-style decor in his room to actually looking like a „living corpse“. Erik and Christine can be seen as a literal expression of the artistic topos „death and the maiden“, which especially towards the end of the 19th century associated death very strongly with the erotic (see https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/ for a very good overview of the motif). Death here is usually represented as either a skeleton or corpse, or as an angel - which is very much in line with Leroux’s Erik.

”Girl and Death” by Edvard Munch

Combined with the fact that Erik‘s music creates feelings of passion, rapture and ecstasy in Christine, it is not a big stretch to conclude that Erik is associated not only with death, but also with sexuality. The duality of sex as both a life-creating and life-threatening force was acutely perceived by the people of that period. Love and death are connected, and both are represented in Erik‘s character. ALW‘s musical adaptation recognized this strongly erotic undercurrent in the story and translated it very aptly into songs such as „Music of the night“ or „Point of no return“. The way in which Christine describes her lessons with Erik - that they “awakened an ardent, voracious, and sublime life” in her, and made her live in a “kind of ecstatic dream” can also be interpreted as her romantic awakening, with all the frightening emotional chaos attached to it.

Raoul, on the other hand, is more associated with purity and propriety - which is reflected in how he views Christine, and the standards that she must conform to in his opinion.

Before seeing Erik’s face, Christine admits that she *would* have come back, but that now, she would never return because “you don’t go back into a grave with a corpse that loves you”. Note how she switches from the first person to the impersonal “you” in this sentence - “you” might not do that, but we already know she did in fact go back more than once. And she is still able to see something of the angel in him because he does not take advantage of the situation, but leaves her alone, turning to his music again.

And then, “music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. Erik starts playing the finale of “Don Juan Triumphant” where “ugliness, lifted on the wings of love, had dared to look beauty in the face”. Through the music, Christine can glimpse into the depths of Erik’s heart and soul, feel his torment and suffering, and is overwhelmed with compassion.

Once again, she is the one to tear down the wall between them. She pushes open the door to Erik’s room and asks him to show his face, sincerely thinking that she can handle it - but it turns out, she really isn’t quite able to when there’s no music between them. But she manages to put on a brave facade and lie to him about being able to look at him without horror. She despises herself for her lies, but then she also does what she must in order to be set free. Erik takes her for walks along the shore of the underground lake, and for carriage rides to the Bois de Boulogne (that’s where they ran into Raoul in Chapter 9). After two weeks, Erik finally trusts her so much that he is willing to set her free (with conditions, of course). It’s really heartbreaking when she mentions how he dared to try to make her look at him even when he wasn’t singing, like a “timid dog”. At this point, he is in her power just as much as she is in his.

When she finally leaves, she is moved more by his tears than by his threats, and his pain is what gets her to come back in the first place: “Those sobs attached me to him more strongly than I thought when I said good-bye to him.” Part of why she is afraid to leave is that she fears it will kill him if she leaves him.

At the end of the chapter, Raoul asks the fateful question that sums up the tragedy of Erik and Christine:

“You’re afraid, but do you love me? If Erik were handsome, would you love me?” “Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I keep hidden at the back of my mind, like sins?”

Christine’s reply along the lines of “Don‘t ask” was cut from the de Mattos translation. It clearly evidences that Christine has conflicted feelings for Erik that go beyond only horror or pity, and that she prefers to suppress them so she doesn't have to deal with them. The statement also shows that if Erik had not been cursed with his face, then things might have looked very different for him and Christine. Attentive readers of de Mattos might nevertheless notice that her next line „If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips“ evades addressing the „what ifs“ Raoul posed, but it still makes her appear less conflicted than she really is. Christine’s heart is a pretty deep ocean of secrets, and at the back of her mind, there seem to be quite a few things that she is unwilling to admit to herself, as Raoul suspected before:

“You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all that is still love, of the most exciting kind! The kind you don’t admit to yourself.”

I haven‘t really counted, but this must be like the fifth time that Raoul insists on his suspicion that Christine is in love with Erik, and he just can‘t get a „no“ out of her. That “no” is given very directly though when he asks her if she hates him. She kisses Raoul to prove that she loves him, at the same time telling him that the kiss is just a one-time thing („for the first and last time“). Then “the night is torn apart”, and the last thing they see is a pair of glowing eyes looking down on them from Apollo’s lyre - which are clearly Erik’s, who has overheard the entire conversation…

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

#phantom of the opera #leroux phantom #lerouxreadingguide #gaston leroux #erik x christine #erik the phantom #erik in love #christine daae #the phantom of the opera #opera ghost #apollo‘s lyre #leroux #the phantom #raoul de chagny #poto

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dclsbaby · 3 years

Text

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3. Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby #everton fc

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himbodjarin · 3 years

Text

LUNAR; CH15

18+ Content: General fluff/angst. Din POV. Word Count: 5138 Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader

The Mandalorian is a driven warrior — traversing the galaxy in search of the ancient Jedi — but everyone has their weaknesses, and he’s no different. The Bounty Hunter possessed three in fact. One he’s discovered—The Child. The remaining two, though, he wasn’t aware of their existence. At least, not until he meets a valorous Sharpshooter underneath a moonless night sky; then he’s plummeting down a dark mission of self-discovery, questioning his morals and his Creed while the moon taunts him, the phases of the satellite corresponding to his personal revelations. However, the Girl has a dark past that may come to inflict hardships on the Mandalorian and the Child; it’s up to the Bounty Hunter to decide her fate. Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist / Playlist

EPILOGUE

Whispers.

Din is subjected to whispers surrounding him and clinging to his beskar like seafoam on his boots; sensitive and hushed tones aimed to show their condolences, their pity, regarding the absence of light beside him. They raise their voice no louder than whispers out of fear, not sympathy—sterile beskar contaminated with the sun’s liquidised crux intimidating them into tight-lipped smiles.

Sorrow radiates off him in potent waves that roll over the settlement to drown them in his grieving. It doesn’t need to be voiced. There’s a plenitude of evidence that stacks up against the presumption; the reclaimed rifle adhered to slippery beskar as opposed to cradling its framework into soft flesh, a tattered cloak that now only stretches across one side of his back, broad shoulders appearing so compact in on themselves, and a heavy-footed stride that simply speaks anguish.

If those factors aren’t indication enough, the blood does it.

Dried blood that coats his tan appendage but not his gloved—funny, how he always seems to dirty his hands—thick streaks that have yet to reach that dry point smeared against his armour, dark patches on his flight suit that adheres to the skin beneath.

A picture is worth a thousand words, but the scene of The Mandalorian—a stoic warrior capable of pulling the tides that’ll swallow their settlement whole—so vanquished and mourning the woman he loved in such dreaded silence is worth a million and then some.

The element of a bare hand no longer pining to envelope itself from intrusive eyes is grisly. Abnormal. Eerie, all most, as if Mando’s resolve will snap before their inspections. Children are guided behind the adults with a subtle hand but it doesn’t pass unnoticed.

Din suspends in the maelstrom of the locals, helmet burdensome on his shoulders, vacantly swaying side-to-side as though struggling to remain awake on his feet; struggling to not let slip of his eyelids and succumb to the mud that’ll pose as his eternal resting grounds. If it weren’t for the slumbering speck of green nestled in the arms of Omera, perhaps he would allow himself to sink to his knees for the second time that night, no—third. Third time.

There’s no communication between them, no are you okay’s or I’m so sorry’s, just a simple exchange of glances that reads she’s gone, my girl is gone when Din recovers the Child from her arms. Familiar weight in the nook of his elbow, the same elbow her head resided as she lay dormant, he reverts back between the compound aisle of onlookers.

It’s all the same expression—that pouted bottom lip and upturned eyebrow, colourful eyes attentive to his exposed hand and gory armour; anything besides the chilling black slit of his visor, the red thumbprint of a much larger hand impression sitting in the corner of his view field—Din’s chin descends to his chest to avert his eyes from the hands on their loved ones, pulling them to a warmth he’ll soon forget the feeling of, the silent declaration of adoration upon seeing such a depleted man without his.

Voices are deteriorating before him, echoing and remote as if they were isolated across a vast canyon—everybody’s tone blending into one heaped bulk he can’t decipher who or where they’re coming from; a procedure his mind conducted to dissociate from the pity timbres.

Caben…

...I know.

Beskar wrenches their route, initiating eye contact with the two farmers his love died to save—died so that they could live fulfilling lives while she’s devoured by parasites—and his fist clenches by his side. Din doesn’t blame them for her demise, not really, she never would’ve inflicted such a gnarly wound if it wasn’t for the fact the Guild was after him; the fact that rescuing a helpless child would lead to a chain of events that brings him such an acquainted feeling of despair.

And he’d do it all over again if the situation arises—that’s what causes his slitted fingers to curl into his palms and draw blood out the gaps between. Din had breached many rules, some of his Creed’s and others his personal pledges; do not fall victim to a girl’s loving touches. They were there for good reason. Din’s not mad at Caben and Stoke nor Omera for informing him of their situation. Din’s mad at himself because, despite knowing the outcome of it all and despite how her name has been carved into his ribs, he would never not rescue the Child.

Even if that statement alone induces a thousand scenarios in which his beloved dies in his arms. Perhaps it’s his private method of torture; a way to inflict damage onto himself that doesn’t bruise skin but the sensitive heart beneath it all.

Caben and Stoke quiver underneath the leer of a visor blemished with vermillion—someone so black and white touched with the coloured essence of a cherished one—he’s never donned so much vibrancy. Not even when he wore his shoddy spraypainted duraplast armour had he been so rich in hues that no eyes should witness.

Din takes mercy on the men and tears his helmet away, feet falling with a burden into the forest haunted with a spirit that’ll never be able to rest.

It takes a day of being in hyperspace to reach overfamiliar craggy rocks and whipping sand granules—a day of being confined within his home, now a duralloy prison, with a fallen star coursing ripples of glacial bursts. The corpse of his sweetheart had been covered with what little material remained of the cloth on his back for the Child’s sake, not his. Din could never want that pretty face cloaked even with the browning plasma cracking on the surface of her cheek, the dark crescents beneath eyes that holds overtones that now only live in his head and windburned lips that once felt warm and smooth against his own roughened.

There’s a steep drop to his death waiting for a mere slip of his boots against the coarse siltstone—internal bleeding upon the impact that would cater his physique with that unaccounted heat one last time—but Din is versatile and makes it down with limited injuries; some grazes into the paddings of fingers and a sore ball of the foot where he’d dug his boots into an uneven surface a little too vigorously.

Soft sand sits beneath his feet in contrast to the grittiness above, a result of the lack of rays that reach between the gorge. It’s darkened down these parts, plagued with skeletons of unfortunate victims to the brittle canyon edgings.

A mote of black pokes upright from the golden ground, the end of a matte-finished cylinder storing pale grains into its blueprint. The ground swallows his knees whole and adheres itself to his flight suit where it’ll reside in the empty space that’s left behind for journeys to come.

Din combs the sand with cupped hands, bare digits burrowing deep and bandaging around the target to wedge free of its tenacious grip. It extracts from the planet’s crust with falling particles from its bore reuniting with its sum beneath his weight—a shattered chamber decays in his clutch. The stock, its untethered support deeper in the terra, withdraws into his idle grip.

It’s a straightforward design—a barrel he’s stared down into more times than he can account for—but there’s sentimental value in its mere existence, despite Din never having any interest in the dark oil encrusted with scratches and weathered patches around a jammed trigger. Such a stocky weapon for arms crafted of supple beams. The tide could easily harness such a defying artifact; digest the barrel whole into the belly of its trenches, the increased pressure simply too great for it to ever leave. Not the beams, though—they should never be required to carry such unstable weight, such compactness.

The amban rifle was perfect for those hands; nimble and delicate, easy to employ.

Salvaged firearm in hand, Din finds himself before the entrance of a shoddy dome shack; a flap of shroud swaying one with the wind eased to the side with the back of his knuckles, helmet dipping as he sets a lagging foot inside. The sparseness, the emptiness, drowns his lungs and constricts his airways—it’d been ransacked, by Jawas presumably, all of the deconstructed mechanics that should be gathering dust pinched from the schism-riddled wooden slab.

Disconnected halves of a rifle are gently laid to rest on the surface, the skeleton of a shattered Creed shortly following. Its critical gaze eats at the delicate man frontwards, toned eyes melting to a bubbling molten transparisteel that scars his assaulted morals. Three tan fingers spin the helmet on its axis to face the duracrete, allowing the pang in his temples to subside.

Din’s calves encased with his duraplast greeves butt against the edge of a mediocre cot, not too contrasting to his own—cramped with little to no support, but it’s stable and it works—he envisions a bandaged figure curled up on the durasteel, nothing but an oversized poncho to supply warmth that wasn’t necessary on such a heated planet. He sinks to the bunk and pursues the comfort of a merciless prod in his waist, a sweat-slicked forehead pressing into the wall.

If he closes his eyes and breathes deep he’s rewarded with a faint whiff of a rich syrup that combats the stale crux on his platings—the point of a pinky muscle stimulated with a fleeting taste of his favourite flavours. Sand particles deposited by the gusts of winds flood his ventilators from the cot beneath him, slicing through the linings of his insides. In lieu of coughing and spluttering Din deeply exhales and laxes his muscles; the overwhelming requirement for rest inevitably forcing his mind to disable and his breathing to even out.

Kuiil and his craftsmanship came up short as expected.

Even with the labour of three lifetimes, I cannot fix this. I have never seen something this shattered be repaired before. Perhaps you are not supposed to restore its properties.

Din respected the Ugnaught too much to vocalise his thoughts—what a load of bantha—and opted to depart from Arvala-7 before its granular claws burrowed into him more than they already had; his boots packed to his ankles with hot grit that converts the soles of his feet to blisters, flight suit drenched in sweat and blood.

Rather than dedicating a whole five minutes of changing attire, rather than finally ridding himself of the constant reminder of his dead lover clinging to his skin and clothes, he punches the navigation and activates the auto-piloting to his next destination.

The Child has developed some independence in the peak of Din’s mourning, often finding himself entertained with a drifting gear knob in the vacancy of the air before him—he almost appeared aware of the situation, aware of the black hole in Din’s chest narrowing his interiors and destabilising his balance—and he no longer needed assistance to vacate from the Crest when the hatch extended.

His guardian, on the other hand, wasn’t so eager to leave his penitentiary. It was quiet and cold in comparison to the hustle and bustle outside the duralloy cell, the loud exclaim of a snappy mechanic, no matter how late into the night it had to be, scolding her droids.

Are ya looking to get shot at? You know the drill, back away from it!

Din straightens himself out from the floor between the cockpit and the hold’s ladder, the one place he didn’t encounter the phantom of waning memories; they plagued these walls beyond belief. Recollections of brief intimate instances strewn throughout the hold, his bunk, the cockpit—it made operating his spacecraft a difficult chore.

He does his utmost not to glimpse at the emptiness atop the crates, the browning streaks that run down the slopes of the cubes and into the grooves of the Razor Crest’s base, but there’s only a limited measure of self-control residing within him and its line has been blurry as of late. Submitting to the gravitational pull of his eyes is inescapable and he risks a peak; a raggedy cloak that concealed gelid mounds now servicing as a blanket for the bare inventory containers.

Shoulders tighten and footwork falters as he maneuvers to the hatch, the idle purring of a preservation machine in the far corner a reminder of what he’d gone and done—guilt and grief goading his esophagus but he swallows it, greets the sting in his walls with a gruff clear of his throat.

What’s the big idea of stationing yourself here? She doesn’t appear in bad shape at all. I ain’t free parking, ya know.

Shiny credits are flung in her direction, the satchel containing the remainder of what was once a reimbursement to the bisected rifle in his leathers, he doesn’t allow him the privilege of feeling sorrow upon parting with them. Din doesn’t deserve to experience such sensitive emotions when he’s the trigger that snapped against a guard—a cherry bolt of a hand jabbing through the wind and tossing delicate goods down a ravine.

Peli eyeballs the exposed spinal plating of the Mandalorian and compiles the fragmented pieces of his physique, slotting in each individual aspect from his impaired posture down to the crust on his steel. Shards of a rusting man relocate, twisting and turning—no, not there...not quite...oh...—until it connects, a brittle sharp-edged outline of a man receding.

But that’s all it is.

An outline. Incomplete. His jam-packed insides—his essence, his life, his love—has been swindled from within leaving a husk of an exhausted bereaved soul ricocheting off the internal boundaries of beskar in search of its partner.

Din deposits himself in a corner of the hangar tucked away where the shadows push and pull his limbs, steering his appendages across the surface of an eroding strongbox showcasing the deconstructed blaster. Phantoms of apprehensive hands ghost overhead, their primary function programmed to destroy and slaughter not replenish and recover.

Reparations are out of the question. It’s beyond demolished; hardly decent for a mantlepiece let alone functional. It’s laid out like a butchered tip-yip primed for roasting, components scattered and misplaced; a muddle not even the greatest gunslinger could capitalise from.

Engravings on the stock of the rifle stabilise him, a gorgeous aluminium that shines beneath all the oil and base of obsidian. Its lines paint a picture of nothing, overlapping and crossing into a mess, but it fires a brisk bolt against his heartplate all the same. Bare fingers spelunk its origins for its quirks, its stories of a stubborn girl entrapped within it; utilising the elongated barrel like a third arm, a trigger snappy as her words, the scenic stock a mirror to the beauty beside it.

Roughened fingers were a by-product of being consistently handsy throughout the decades but when perceiving the sun rays they were reborn entirely. Soft and smooth and careful. Now that the sun no longer responds to his touch, now that he’s left with cool inscribed metal, they’ve reverted to their nature. Sandy. Sharp. Aggressive.

Aggressive fingers that match the stained violence of his Creed—his beskar that simply won’t return to that elegant silver shine no matter how desperately he rubs against the surface. Water sloshes back and forth in the modest trough of a sink, a tainted red-brown colour accumulating at the bottom provoking an ache in the tender organ residing in his centre.

He’d practically been forced into the shoddy refresher by the mechanic—you got the kid all anxious, just look at you, go get that gunk off yourself.

That’s all it can be perceived as by others; nothing more than filthy smears required to be rid of simply for presentation—to preserve the comfort of others no matter how intense the guilt chews against his muscles as her pith dilutes. Gunk.

Din muffles a sob. It’s her.

She’s abandoning him for a second time. What little of her refuses to part from him is so encrusted it’s become a part of his armour, inserting herself into the nicks and grooves of his platings his fingers fail to penetrate.

Mindless hands shift to his lesioned flesh, unsteady digits summarising the hills of rashy bumps visible only through the lens of steamy caf. Phantoms of lingering touches mark tan terrain in the shapes of slender fingers and cottony lips on his chest, his stomach, neck and face; everywhere that’d been blessed with the loveliest of kisses and nips from the Sun now scarred over.

Pendant held firmly in place pulses a scorching burst through the tissue on his sternum, the beskar skull leaving its claim. Its fraying thread drifts to thick fingers and lays loose between them, irritable skin of a palm flaring at its exuding heat and crisp pang; none of its physical but it’s as though he’s brushed with a hand of a million degrees all the same.

Shiny silver occupies the empty space beside him, a lithe barrel glittering in the substandard lighting of a crummy Tatooine refresher; heckling the helmetless man but he could never glance its way in any sort of negative class.

It hurts to connect with the beskar pendant and perhaps he deserves to hurt, but he can’t sustain it, can’t confront that sting in his throat and eyes each time it shifts against his chest.

Din weaves the lace of his material initiation through the metal perch beneath the shiny stretch of a barrel; dangling and showcased on the paired rifle of his Sun where it’ll reside—operating as a threatening symbol to partner his visor against enemies who dare glance his way.

And it did, far more successful than he could’ve imagined; rumours of his descent traversing parsecs faster than his Crest could vie with.

Did you hear about that Mandalorian—supposedly lost his lover and went rogue. I heard he turned berserk, he’s killed a town’s worth of criminals! Someone ought to lock him up before he turns on us. He’s a threat to us all!

Din didn’t much care for the presumptions. It wasn’t as though he frequented locations to be overwhelmed with the local’s support, though it made discreetly getting around a challenge—no longer were the days he could enter a cantina with a few intrigued eyes devising a way to lay claim to his beskar before returning to their booze.

But now it was people confronting him in false hope he’d be too deep in mourning to fight against their attacks. It never did end well for them.

He’d become a magnet for death, even of his own.

It wasn’t righteous to die in that common house. Not when those disproportionate black eyes observed from the arms of a droid; deep, dark masses that depicted more emotion for his guardian’s condition than perhaps they should. He’d been selfishly greeting his emerging end with an inconsiderate let me have a warrior’s death. It’d be a lie if he was to deny its translation; let me see my beloved.

As is his entire life, Din’s been allocated with responsibilities far out of his expertise but he’s not relinquishing his guardianship to the kid that easily. It’s not as if he could be transferred to any other old sucker either; not everybody has the same compassion for a floppy-eared bounty worth their retirement funds.

No, it wasn’t his time to rest. It’ll come when it’s merited.

That night after the events that’d transpired, Greef Karga bestowed some unusually wise statements underneath the moonless canopy of speckled stars patterning the abyss. Simply reminding Din of its existence; the constant celestials that’ll never desert him no matter what dodgy planet he dwelt.

A new moon is approaching. As a child I had been told stories of a cosmic reset at the commencement of a new cycle; an opportunity to start anew. Perhaps it was all just folklore but it’s fascinating all the same, wouldn’t you agree? I always did like shiny things.

It’d been the vulnerability that encouraged his Guild’s leader to utter those words—that unmistakable change in demeanour since they’d last met, that insecurity swallowing an iron stomach upon hearing a dead name chanted amongst an army of Stormtroopers—Din knew without it being conveyed.

He had been stripped of his privacy and put in the spotlight in front of dozens of lifeforms. A name reserved for a benevolent tone now recognised by the enemy, trespassing on those memories of all the situations it’d been murmured into his bare flesh as if labelling him as a person; a real breathing blood-pumping person and not the Creed he fought for.

Gideon was his name, the man who spoke of his identity as though he crafted it himself. As though he nursed the bruises and traumas of his title and being—not gentle hands that’d remain uncomplaining despite how little Din offered in return.

If Din had inspected his fallen TIE fighter for life, perhaps he could’ve avoided the forthcoming events.

With the naive belief of security, Din encouraged the pursuit of his aspirations rather than the concern of his violations towards his code. His relationship with the Creed had been on thin ice and he’s not quite willing to pardon its strict principles.

An opportunity to start anew.

His brain requests a rebalance—the interest for the Child’s consideration prodding needles into the fleshy mass—demands his sentiments to be torched, cremated until they are stardust particles drifting through the celestials above. They crack and pop in tune to the sizzle of a droughted driftwood pyre bearing the corpse of his lover, profitably filling two needs with one deed; a clear state of mind to focus on his ongoing responsibilities and to allow depleted beams to finally rest across the horizon.

She’d endured suffering enough; receiving punishment from those she trusted, the guilt and onslaught Din presented as a by-product, sustaining wounds until it’d finally become too much.

Even in death, she wasn’t permitted serenity.

Her fucking body is still with me!

It slipped out of his mouth back on Tatooine.

I had to - had to put her in carbonite...she was fuckin’ rotting in my ship. I didn’t know what else to do. What are you supposed to do with the body of your-... I can’t just - just ditch her on some shitty planet all alone like that!

Peli had been of assistance; providing Din somewhere to rest his eyes without breathing in the stench of decaying flesh. She’d even gone ahead and supplied him with a pair of gloves to preserve his corrupted honour though she wouldn’t admit it,—prefer not to recognise you as human, makes it hard to dupe you outta credits if I’m too busy pitying you—she wasn’t repelled by his grieving, the unusual depictions of a man underneath all that shiny steel.

She’d been of more assistance than he could thank her for.

Being on Tatooine facilitated the idea of his Sun’s disposal.

Kote Kyr’am.

It’s the best memorial he could devise. A ceremony he’d attended countless times as a foundling watching his elders fall in battle. The very same elders who’d knock Din upside the head for constructing such an ancient farewell for an aruetii but she’s worthy of nothing less; more, perhaps, but there are no alternatives in the vacancy of his helmet adequate for the burial of a star.

Din’s lips are chapped, his skin is on fire, there’s a rumbling in his stomach. He’s watching his beloved burn to ash underneath the new moon and yet he feels as though he’s the one succumbing to the flames; the heat just as powerful as the dormant embodiment it’s consuming.

Velvety skin he’d allocate his hands, his tongue, and time, never enough time, to now blister and contract, tear and melt, crackle and—

He heaves over, helmet rim caught on a scrunched forehead, and readies his throat for the bite of acid. It doesn’t come. Not even a trickle of saliva disperses. Instead, his lungs impale themselves on his ribcage, contracting and expanding so rapidly he fails to recognise his cheeks are devoured with a downstream.

The salt probes his tastebuds though it’s insufficient to dominate the heavy particles of ablaze flesh. It’s so rich, so potent that it’s evolved to a taste rather than a scent. Din could withstand the odour, his filters stripped the majority, but the taste is intolerable and it just so freely floats in through his agape mouth to nestle among his tongue - as if it belonged there - as if a contrasting sweeter taste didn’t.

Din’s skin reddens from Navarro’s meanspirited terrain but it’s not enough motivation to rise to his feet. He sits there, steel dwelling amongst the molten, and waits because he can’t continue his journeys for two without that flicker of confidence she’s at peace.

He’ll take a crumb of assurance, it’d be plenty for him to muster up the strength and return to the Crest where the Child awaits.

Usually, as is Mandalorian custom, he’d be stripping the shell of armour from her corpse as a keepsake of a life well-lived - to preserve the name of her clan but all Din had of her’s was a shattered rifle that’ll remain in the vacuum of a satchel.

Not to mention the chants—the gruff Mando’a words designed to ensure their warrior’s spirit may join their fallen. Din had his fair share of howling war cries through the years but not this time - it’s not right.

An aruetii wouldn’t be welcomed.

Besides, his Creed had stolen his spirit. It doesn’t qualify to steal hers.

It isn’t until a final blow of wind carries her skywards that Din raises to his feel, latches his helmet back in place, and returns to work.

Din likes the skies, no—loves the skies; the magnificent blues and pinks and oranges that blend as one, the swollen cushiony whites that conceal his naked face from the shell whatever planet he’d roam, but above all else Din loves how the sun blessed him with its astral kisses.

That unmistakable warmth flushed over him; the remnants of his extinguished star’s touches.

There was a peace up there that’d never reach the conflict of the galaxy; serenity that allowed for a moment of buoyancy—floating among the cornflower identical to how one might in the colossal depths of the ocean without the intimidation of anchoring oneself by weighted platings.

It was a real sight to behold up there; unfamiliar without the confines of his Crest.

Din had forgotten the thrill of the sweeping winds through his limbs, the freedom rising in his chest upon cutting through white puffs. But it had been the horizon that lured his attention inwards—the bends and slopes of a shimmering orange star smiling at the returning glint in his visor.

It was the first time he’d genuinely smiled since the loss of His Star. It had something to do with the warmth; the sunbeams managing to penetrate past beskar and into his flesh and organs so intimately, so overfamiliar to delicate fingers stroking the muscles of his chest or the bones beneath his cheeks.

It became sort of a custom in his travels to visit the heavens at least once on each planet. Often times bemused squealing would accompany him. Grogu—Grogu...the kid had a name—had been adamant about participating in his encounters and Din now has no doubt that was his abilities, the Force as Ahsoka mentioned, enabling him to perceive his intentions; his ambition to be touched by someone who no longer lives. It’d be easier to go up against seven Krayt dragons than to convince a power-wielding typhoon to remain on land, thereby he’d hoist Grogu up and above the overcast where the beams kissed the peak of his fuzzy forehead.

Renouncing his guardianship to Grogu had been challenging. Losing another lifeform so that he’d be entirely alone wasn’t a consideration as he journeyed in search of a Jedi, but it was to be expected. The kid was powerful and Din didn’t possess the knowledge to help him wield his abilities. Didn’t make saying goodbye any easier, though.

The situation resurfaced ghoulish remembrances of draining light in his arms; how he never presented his emotions without the guise of his helmet. So, encircled with copious lifeforms, Din removed his Creed before Grogu—introducing that vulnerability and love for a toddler who’d swindled his affection so effortlessly. A claw on his face wasn’t the same as gentle fingers but he didn’t love it any less.

The ordeal was absolving despite the moisture in his eyes.

Din’s ambivalent about what he’ll pursue from here with no mission, no ship, no love, but he doesn’t much care when he’s brushed with the warmth of his lover’s thumbs on his eyelids. It’s his favourite space; lingering above the clouds, head craned backwards with his helmet loosely held in his leathers, savouring how the beams kiss his skin until it’s pink from its spice.

Some days he simply wishes to take a peak, a small little glance to quench him until the desire builds up again. Some days he remains in the skies until his jetpack whines and runs into failures; until it makes its descent and is replaced with a shimmering orb.

He’s envious of the moon; how it so easily recovers its glossy shine and integrity, neglecting to address the events of the eclipse. Its radiance chips away at his armour but the sunshine restores it—realigns the shards and offers a toasty kiss to the steel, commending it for protecting her Mandalorian.

Din suspends in a herd of clouds and sighs into the air. It’s quiet except for the monotonous bursts of thrusters from behind. Sunshine is greeted with lukewarm caf, a partnering smile tugging his lips.

“Beloved Girl,” Din’s voice is raspy from inactivity but so loud, so clear in contrast to everybody else’s he’d consulted.

There’s too much he wants to say but he determines to voice them all. Din expresses his thoughts he’d been too stoic to admit, ranging from whispers to shouts at the sun as if it was a sentient being listening to his passion.

He tells her of how much he longs to see her, to taste her on his lips, to provoke that sparkling smile he loved so dearly. He communicates his guilt and how he loves her more than he can fathom—mentions the successful end of his journeys with Grogu and how he now has zilch but an undesired blade to show for it.

There’s nothing but a sway of wind whipping his eardrums in response and Din hums, accepting it.

Din cherishes the splinters of beams as she comes to rest beneath the horizon and he too sinks from the skies, obscured dimples in his cheeks as he recounts the memories of his beloved wrapped in his arms.

One last thing, Cyare, keep an eye on the kid for me, will you?

taglist: @ohhersheybars, @greatcircle79, @northernpunk, @tanzthompson, @djarrex, @omgreally, @spideysimpossiblegirl

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

how to mend a broken heart: step one - rafe cameron

Breaking Rafe Cameron’s bones didn’t work, but your plan to break his heart did. You falling for him too and having your heart shatter as collateral was an unexpected side effect. Ever the schemer, JJ’s come up with a new five step plan to mend what was broken.

co-authored with my love, freya @rekrappeter

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader, unrequited!JJ x reader

warnings: angst, starting a relationship under false pretences, drinking and drug use

word count: 2.5k

a/n: and here’s step one, listen to the part two playlist on the series masterlist for maximum effect :). please please please leave us feedback, freya and i read every comment and cry, love you guys so much!!

“This is ridiculous, Pope,” you pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned against him on John B’s sofa. You were pointedly ignoring JJ, equal parts furious for his part in your heartbreak and frustrated that he had tried to kiss you. The you of only a few months ago would have probably died for JJ to confess, the thought of pressing your lips together used to make you dizzy. Now, you were angry, and annoyed, and sad, and you wanted nothing more than to return to under the comforter where you had made your home for the past week as you cried.

“I have to agree,” Kie piped up from her spot at the kitchen table, “two weeks ago we were plotting to break his heart and now you want us to believe you’re interested in fixing things?”

“Look,” JJ started, screwing his eyes closed for a split second to gather his thoughts, “I don’t give a flying fuck about Rafe Cameron, but I care about you, y/n. You’re my best friend and I hate how the last plan panned out, but I want to make it up to you.” His eyes were focused on you, ignoring the other pogues staring at him.

Your lip wobbled as you avoided his stare, “You made it pretty clear how you felt about me on that beach, JJ.”

JJ sucked in a deep breath, looking at Pope for some silent advice but his friend gave him a doubtful look. He glanced at you again, noting your legs curling into your chest and how your eyes were raw and puffed. He hated that it was his fault that you were like this. “y/n,” JJ sighed, he closed the space between your bodies, kneeling down on the floor in front of you and gathering your hands in his larger ones, “You know me, you know me more than anyone in this room. You know I’m a little bit stupid, that I don’t think everything through, that I’m a liability sometimes..”

“And the rest,” Kie chimed in, but closed her lips when JJ shot an annoyed glare in her direction.

“You’re not stupid,” slipped out before you could stop it, years of reassuring the volatile blond before you having conditioned you to respond, “but you hurt me, and then you used my feelings for you against me.”

“That’s not-” he sighed, stopping himself before he could run his mouth again, knowing that of all times, you would not be impressed with his impatience. He looked around at your friends again, “Look, we can talk about that night in more detail later, just know that I’ve actually thought this thing through and I want to help you. Even Pope thinks it’s not a terrible idea.”

You turned to look at Pope sitting beside you, expecting him to deny JJ’s claim, but Pope nodded slightly in acknowledgement, causing you to sigh. “Alright, hit me.”

JJ smiled, crooked teeth on display, before letting go of your hands to get up and cross over to the forgotten chalkboard, spinning it around to reveal his five-step plan to mend your broken heart. You rolled your eyes at the childish doodles around the list, including but not limited to several broken hearts, one of which had a bandaid closing the gap between the two halves. You scanned the five steps he outlined, confused by what was written. You were about to question the last step, when he dramatically stepped forward, holding his arms wide open.

“Step one: tell the truth, see it through.”

You were standing outside on the back porch, leaning against the railing like you had so many weeks ago when the first plan had begun. JJ was leaning on the railing beside you, and the silence was starting to drive you mad.

“So,” you stated simply, eyes scanning the horizon. There was a light breeze that rustled your hair around your shoulders and JJ found himself looking at your side profile as you looked out.

“So,” he repeated uselessly, fidgeting with his hands.

“You said we could talk about that night in detail later, well it’s later and you need to start talking,” you told him.

He sighed, uncomfortably shifting his weight from his left foot to his right and back, “I didn’t tell you I love you just because of what we have, i-it’s different. You read all those shitty online stories about best friends becoming lovers and it comes with so much complications-”

“And I’m not worth that?” you ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant,” JJ spluttered out, “My mom left, my dad’s… well you know about that, and fuck, y/n, you’re all I have left. If it didn’t work out and I lost you…”

“Well, look how that turned out,” you snapped, “you nearly lost me anyway.”

“Nearly?” He asked, the slight lilt of hope shining through his voice.

You looked up, eyes rolled to the sky, “you’re my best friend, J, and I don’t want to lose you anymore than you want to lose me.” A smile tugged at the corner of JJ’s lips, but you raised your hand to stop him from grinning, “I’m not saying I forgive you for what you did, what I’m saying is that I’m not going to let Rafe Cameron come between us, no matter how I feel about him.”

“Okay…” JJ trailed off.

“And that goes both ways. If we’re doing this, you can’t argue with me over my feelings for him anymore. I’m telling you now, I love Rafe a-and if this works, I’m going to be with him.”

JJ tried to hide the grimace that graced his face but he failed miserably, making you groan in annoyance. “No, y/n, I promise. I’ll try, I’ll try my god damn hardest if it means I still have you in my life because I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in it.”

“You’d probably be stuck in jail.” You giggled, and JJ lit up at the sound. He hadn’t heard you laugh in at least a week, if not longer and it filled the hole in his chest a little.

“Probably,” he shrugged, offering his hand to you with the intention of starting your secret handshake, but you pulled on his arm and pulled him in for a brief hug.

“I haven’t forgiven you yet,” you told him sternly as you pulled away, poking his chest, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

“Noted.”

Finding Rafe was easy.

It was nearing sundown and you had a strong feeling you knew exactly where he would be. There was something soothing, calming, about watching the sun set over the cliffedge where he had confided in you about his mom. You spotted him when you pulled up, sitting on the hood of his truck. The fading sunlight cast a glow against his face that had you shielding your eyes as you approached. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him for the first time in a week. You had gone from seeing him every day, wrapped in his arms to nothing, not even a cursory text or notification.

Getting Rafe to hear you out was harder.

The utter look of betrayal that mirrored his expression only a week ago greeted you when he turned around. You felt your heart clench at the knowledge that your actions were responsible for such loathing in his eyes. That you had been the one to hurt him and cause him pain. You hadn’t seen him look this devastated since that day that you had sat on his lap and held his face in your hands as he shared the most traumatic event of his life with you. Without realizing, your eyes had filled with tears, the tip of your nose burning at the sensation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked harshly, “I thought I told you to never speak to me again.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head up to keep the tears from spilling, “I know, I just. I wanted to tell you the truth, all of it.” You want to explain to him, really explain to him, until he understands that while it had started out with poor intentions you had really fallen in love with him. That he owned your entire heart, held it in his hands, and controlled its fate.

“JJ painted a pretty accurate portrait of it all, I think.” He replied, tone still unpleasant. Your stomach dropped, you knew he would be upset and angry, but a small part of you had hoped he would be open to listening to you.

“Just hear me out, please listen to me. You can tell me to fuck off after I’m done, and I’ll leave you alone.” You say, completely genuine. If he really wanted nothing to do with you, you would respect that. It would hurt like hell, but you would understand. You could only imagine if the roles had been reversed, if Topper or Kelce had cornered you and told you the entire thing had just been some bet to break your heart.

When Rafe didn’t reply, you slowly closed the gap between you, lifting yourself up onto his truck, you felt him stiffen beside you and let out an exhale of annoyance. “You know what, y/n? I can’t even look at you right now.”

“I-I understand that, Rafe, but this week has been one of, if not, the worst week of my life-”

Rafe scoffed, cutting you off, and his hands balled into fists on his lap. “You don’t have the right to shove that in my face, I fell in love with a girl that was playing me. I thought you were different but you’re exactly like those other pogues. You’re no better than who you thought I was.” You feel the white hot guilt spread across your body uncomfortably as you consider his words. When this had all started, you never thought you would succeed at actually breaking his heart, didn’t really even consider that he had one. More importantly, you never thought you would succeed at crushing your own heart in the process.

“What I did, what we did as a group, was wrong and I know that now but I got so caught up in the whole island feud that I wasn’t thinking right,” you sighed, “I never thought I’d get you to fall in love with me, I thought it was something I’d do for a week and then give up, but-”

“But you succeeded.” He states simply, arms crossed as he cuts off your rambling.

“But I fell in love with you, Rafe. The whole thing backfired, and I ended up breaking my own heart in the process.” You can hear the desperation taking over your tone of voice, recognizing his closed off body language as an indication that this conversation was about to be over before it had really begun.

“That’s really great, y/n, thanks for the insight.” Rafe retorted, rolling his eyes and jumping from the bonnet. His tone was raw and hateful, and it felt like a knife pushing through your chest as he walked away from you, again.

You followed him, protesting for him to stop but he wasn’t listening. He opened the driver’s door, and you mustered up the courage to slam it shut with all your force, making him swing his head to look at you bewildered. Tears were brimming in the corner of his eyes, his chest heaving heavily with every breath he took. “What more do you want from me, y/n? I listened, I processed, and the only thing I got from that was that you didn’t even apologize for what you did!”

Watching the tears slide down his cheeks made you speechless, you did truly break his heart. “I-I thought…” You mumbled, and he shook his head in disappointment.

“I thought you were different, you did a great job playing someone you’re not.” He’s looking at you and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time and doesn’t like what is in front of him. You shrink a little under his heated gaze, so similar to that first night you spent together but yet millions of miles of distance between then and now.

“Rafe, you don’t understand. When I was with you, that was the real me. Yo-you fell in love with me,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him and reaching for his hand but he pulled it away. “Just know, that every moment we spent together, I fell deeper in love with you.”

Rafe Cameron has never been loved before. No one has ever told him how much they loved him for who he was. His own family found it an effort to love him, and looking at you right now, declaring your love for him with tears streaming down your cheeks, he couldn’t help but think that maybe not being loved was a good thing. You never had to deal with the heartache and unexpected complications that came to giving yourself to someone. The only time he experienced true love was when you were lying underneath him, the softest smile on your face and you kissed the palm of his hand, in that moment, he felt on top of the world. But his world came shattering down when JJ Maybank found him that day. He wasn’t sure if he could survive another heartbreak.

“Have a good life, y/l/n,” he muttered without sparing you another glance, successfully navigating his way into the driver side of his vehicle as you stood uselessly beside it, tears falling from your eyes.

You stood there watching as he drove away, not moving from your spot until the truck had turned the corner, disappearing from your sight entirely. Rubbing away at your eyes and at the tear tracks on your cheeks, you were despondent at the prospect of Rafe Cameron never forgiving you and having walked out of your life for good this time. Fuck this plan, fuck the other plan, you thought angrily to yourself, walking back to your car. And especially fuck JJ Maybank, as you drove away from the cliffside that had meant so much to you. You found yourself wishing, not for the first time and likely not for the last time, that you had listened to Pope in the first place and never gone through with the stupid bet in the first place. Sure you would have never known Rafe’s love, but you also would have never known this heartbreak.

htbah taglist (link in the series masterlist!!):

@solllaris @drewswannabegirl @starrystarkey93 @httpstarkey @sweetlysilent @drewstarkey @dontjinx-it @ultranikilove @spencereidbasis @meaganjm @starlightstarkey @thortheestallion @jiaraendgame @idocarealot @tempestuousjj @pink-meringues @dpaccione @arianabrashierstuff @softstarkey @loveylangdon @xenagzb @teenwaywardasgardian @prejudic3 @nxsmss @canibeoneofthepogues @outerbanksbro @obx-direction-sos @nqbmf @digniteas @annedub @colorful-queen-of-the-roses @yesp0ny @loveniallandharryonedirection @fantasticpsychicfanfish @girls-breaking-hearts @beautyandthebleh @casper17 @mozz-are-lla @parkershoco @unfortunatekiwitrash @loverofmineluke @slutforjjmaybank @skiesofthesketchy @httpstarkey @sugarcoatedcalum @amorisxx @trinnwazheree @stargazingstarkey @obx-saltlife @juliarose21 @hyperactive2411 @mcarignan @feyrecauldron-blessed @sportygal55 @popcrone818 @wtfkie @raekenliar @letsgotothehop @walkingtothesun @outerbanksbro @summerkaulitz @glux64 @itslilithsstuff @kaitieskidmore1 @mycowatemyhw @poguepunk @routledgebaby @teenwolfobx @pancakefancake @princessnnylzays @onlygetaway @hoodpankow @shawnswife2004 @glittercoveredsouls @fangirlvoice

rodeo rafe babies who said they were interested:

@royalmerchant @outerbankslut @honeyycheek @jellyfishbeansontoast @ilovejjmaybank @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @https-luna @butgilinsky @rae131415

diverdcwn everything taglist:

@velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @hoodpankow @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @euphoricheyward @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey @rafej-cambanks @stfukie

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron series #freyby writes #diverdcwn writes #htmabh

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hot-wiings · 4 years

Text

Leave An Ask Or Comment To Be Added To A Specific Characters Taglist.

Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 8-17-2020

You laid on your stomach across Ochako Uraraka's bed. Spotify's 'Top One Hundred Pops' playlist could be heard in the background, but your best friend and you didn't care much for Timberlake's voice as you skimmed through magazines together.

You stopped flipping pages and closed your magazine before tossing it next to you on the bed. Your attention was now turned to Ochako who simply stared down at her magazine. You noticed she hadn't really been flipping her pages or really participating in conversation like she usually would.

“Is something bothering you Ochako?”

With a hefty groan, your best friend closed her magazine and tossed it next to her. She had a slight frown on her face as she turned to you. Her eyes were glossy and her smile was gone, she looked and acted nothing like the girl you'd grown to know and call your best friend.

“[Y/N], have you ever been on love?"

A blush spread across your face as you thought of the boy who held your heart. The boy who held your heart, soul, and entire reason for being. Izuku Midoriya, your secret boyfriend, the man who held your affection. Not that you'd ever told him truly how deep your love for him ran.

"Yes, I have."

"There's this guy and I think... I think I'm in love with him.”

“Ochako... If you really think you feel this way about him, then you should tell him.”

You had pulled yourself up from your lying position to a cross-legged sitting position next to Ochako. She sat in front of you with her arms crossed, hugging herself. She looked so troubled. So sad.

“I... I want to, but lately, he's been spending less time with me, and more time with this other girl. I'm worried he might have caught feelings for her."

You reached out and pulled Ochako's hands into yours. You squeezed them as a way of comfort.

“Ochako... If you really feel this way then you should tell him. You should tell him before it's too late.”

“You're right, [Y/N]. Thanks for the advice, you're like the big sister I never had.”

Ochako wrapped her arm around you tightly and pulled away with a smile on her face. A smile you hadn't seen in weeks. She looked more like the Ochako you knew.

“I'm gonna tell Midoriya how I feel!”

Suddenly it was like a weight came down on your chest. Midoriya? Your Midoriya? Love of your life Midoriya? How could you have missed the signs? He was hanging out more with you, less with her. The way she tried so hard to get his attention. How could you have missed the obvious signs?

Suddenly you hated the fact you and Izuku kept your relationship secret. At first, it was so your classmates couldn't make a big deal about it, as time went on with your dad being All Might it just made more sense to help preserve Izuku's secret of being Toshinori's successor, but then the secrecy made it feel more romantic.

"You like Izuku?"

Your heart swelled as Ochako flopped back on the bed with an ever-growing smile.

"How couldn't I? He's sweet and nice. He's caring and he inspires me to be a better hero."

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say to your best friend. What could you say? 'I'm Sorry, I'm already dating him'? How could you hurt her like that when she's been nothing but a friend? How could you hurt her like that when she feels your like a sister to her? You couldn't.

The more you thought of Ochako and your boyfriend the worse your bad thoughts swirled. You'd never amount to great title your father left and the expectations people expected of you. Izuku would grow to fulfill your father's title, he would be a real hero. But what of you? You would grow to be an undercover hero like Eraserhead. But Ochako? She would look great at Izuku's side. She would be someone he could fight with side by side. She would be someone worth being with Izuku.

She would suit Izuku much better than you. They would be perfect together, better than you could be.

"Ochako, I have to go now. I hope it works out for you though!"

Quickly you got up off her bed and grabbed your bag before bolting out the door. Once you were away from your best friend and alone in the halls you slid your phone out of your pocket.

[Y/N]: Izuku... I think we should stop seeing each other. [Sent: 8:17 pm]

You don't even watch the little read sign pop-up. You don't watch Izuku's chat bubbles pop and go away. You just slide your phone back in your pocket and let the tears slide down your face.

You couldn't help but watch them as they ate lunch together. You were tables away from them, Ochako took this as you giving her and Izuku time to be alone together, really you were giving each other distance from the breakup.

You couldn't help but watch them as they ate lunch together. It had only been a couple of months, but it appeared a lot could happen in three months. As Ochako sat close to Izuku it felt wrong. As Izuku laughed at her jokes you felt sick. As Ochako leaned her head against Izuku you felt utterly disgusted.

Breaking up with Izuku was the worst mistake you ever made, but how could you not? If you hadn't Ochako would've been hurt. It was the worst mistake, but they were so happy and perfect together. They were like two halves of a whole.

They were two halves of a whole yet you couldn't help but stare at them. You couldn't help this jealous feeling from taking over as you hung out with Ochako. You couldn't help this wanting urge that overcame you every time you and Izuku passed in the halls. You couldn't help that he always crossed your mind. You couldn't help that seeing them together crushed your soul.

You couldn't help these feelings, yet you were the one who pushed him away from you and into the arms of your best friend.

Abruptly the chair next to you was pulled out and Katsuki Bakugo plopped his butt down next to you. Compared to yours, his lunch looked like a five-course meal. Of course, watching Izuku with Ochako really took away any appetite you had in you.

"Hi."

You smiled over at the blonde boy. Ever since you stopped sitting with Izuku, Katsuki had been hanging about with you. Contrary to what most of your class would say, Katsuki could be nice. His generosity came in his own rough way, still, he was a true friend to you.

"Stare at that shit-munches any longer and you'll burn a hole on his head."

"I wasn't staring."

Your words tumbled out quickly and fast. You didn't want anybody thinking you were crushing on Ochako's new boyfriend, not when they weren't privy to the information that said new boyfriend was your ex.

"Do you even realize how fuckin' obvious you make it? You're crushing on the damn nerd!"

"Shut up Katsu! You don't understand."

You pushed your lunch away from you and crossed your arms. You felt sick just having this conversation. You felt repulsed, and you knew the food would have a hard time going down.

Katsuki pushed your food back in front of you and crossed his own arms.

"So eat and explain it to me."

'I'm not hungry."

"Don't be fucking stupid. Not eating just because you're upset is gonna make you feel sick."

The sight of Ochako out of the side of your eye all over Izuku hurt and disgusted you. It repulsed and aggravated you. You didn't want to eat, yet, the look on Katsuki's face as he insisted you ate made you feel indifferent.

He cared for you, he was trying to be a good friend. For the sake of Katsuki, you pick up your fork and scoop some food in your mouth.

"I can't really explain it- I and Izuku dated before he and Ochako got together."

"Did the fucker break your heart?"

Despite Katsuki's gruff voice and colorful language, he still spoke quiet and kind towards you. Although, you could detect some disdain for Izuku in his voice.

"No, I ended it... I thought... I thought he could do better."

Katsuki doesn't say anything and you were sure you either upset him by talking about his enemy, or bored him to death by talking about your feelings. That was what you thought until you felt his warm fingers snap against your forehead.

"Ow."

He flicked you right out of nowhere.

"You're a fucking Idiot. If anyone could do better it's you. Deku was lucky he even had you, he never shoulda' let you go."

As the school bell rang Katsuki put his lunch container in his bag and walked away. He didn't head in the direction of class like everyone else. No, he was making a beeline for that shitty nerd, Deku.

The hard truth is you and Katsuki were a lot alike. You were both willing to suffer if it meant the one you truly loved was happy and thriving.

You sat on your bed, laptop, notebook, and homework books strewn across your lap. It looked messy, but not as messy as the rest of your room. You had dishes on the counter and clothes scattered in piles. It was messy like your life. You had kind of let it go to shit after you broke up with Izuku.

A quick, brisk knock on your door could be heard. You groaned as you pushed your work materials off of you to answer it. You hoped it wasn't your teachers, with such a messy room that would be embarrassing. Mostly you prayed it wasn't Ochako.

You unlatched the hook, twisted the knob and pulled the door open. You didn't know who you expected. Your teachers maybe, perhaps Katsuki. You didn't know who you expected, but you didn't expect to see him.

Izuku, with his messy green hair, looked like a mess. He was out of breath and it looked like his eye was purple and swelling. You wanted to pull him into a hug. You wanted to check out his eye and clean it up. You couldn't, that was Ochakos job.

He wasn't yours. Not anymore.

"Hey... What are you doing here?"

"I've been such an idiot."

You hugged yourself and leaned against the door frame as to not give away how nervous and timid you felt with him being here.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us! I should've fought for us and I didn't. I thought you needed space. I tried giving you space but it didn't help. It just pushed us away from each other."

"Zu' it doesn't matter. We're just not right for each other."

Izuku walked closer to you and you hugged yourself tighter. You had to be strong, you had to push him away. You had to, but as he placed his hands on your shoulders you felt your distance fall.

"We are right for each other. We were perfect for each other."

"No, we're not!"

"Yes, we are! Kacchan told me everything. I thought you needed space, what you really needed was reassurance."

You turned around from him and walked further into your dorm. Why couldn't he let this go? He could be so much happier with her.

"You needed reassurance and I didn't give that to you. I didn't fight. I didn't try. I just need you to know that Ochako will never be it for me. She will never be the girl I want to tell all my secrets too. She will never be the girl I think about late at night. She will never be the girl I love. She will never be you."

"She's so pretty, nice, and thoughtful. Why don't you want her? My skills, my looks? Just mediocre. Mineta doesn't even look at me, and he would look at trash if it had a vagina. I'm just All Might's daughter. I'm not special in any other way-"

While Izuku could admit fault for not being there for you, for not noticing how insecure you'd become in your relationship, he would never admit to or apologize for threatening Mineta into never looking at you.

"Don't you dare say that! You have never been All Might's daughter to me. You have always been [Hero Name]. You prove every day that you are more of a hero than anyone here. Your special, brilliant, and beautiful. I'm in love with you."

Izuku pulled you into his arms for the first time in three months. The emotions inside you broke and you allowed yourself to let out everything that had been bothering you. Everything that had been making you insecure.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but I'm here now, and I'm never leaving you."

As Izuku held you in his arms it felt right. It wasn't Izuku and Ochako. It was Izuku and you.

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aitarose · 2 years

Note

Hi there! Saw your matchup event and I wanted to join. I would like a personality matchup. (Sorry in advance if this becomes too long) My pronouns are she/her and I would like to be matched with male characters.

I am an ENFP saggitarius. I am pretty extroverted but can go quiet at times. I use sarcasm alot and more often than not to avoid talking about my feelings lol. I have been told I am very mature and fun to be around. My friends describe me as a very bubbly person but also down to earth when needed. I always casually flirt with friends as a joke. My friends always come to me for advice and to vent. I love helping people. I am also a volleyball player! I am a spiker and I have been playing for a long time. I am very good friends with my team. I love reading, writing, dancing and singing. I used to be the smart kid in class but with quarantine my mental health and grades dropped so I am kinda in a burn out. I am the younger sister in my family. I love Mitski, TV girl, Mac Demarco. My favorite show is black mirror. Also a tiny request if my match could be on the taller side that would be awesome. Sorry again this was longer than I intended take all the time you need and have a nice day ;)

hii i always see you in my notifs and your shitposts are so cute! this was super fun to write out, so i hope you like it and him :)

YOUR PERFECT MATCH. KUROO TETSUROU

— ✦ : kuroo’s personality traits are extremely similar to yours, that’s undeniable. taking into consideration the your consistent flirtation, witty humor, and passion for fun, you can easily be compared as two halves of a whole. in some cases, this would be concerning. there aren’t many relationships that can thrive when each partner is alike - however, in this instance, it’s a perfect combination. you can understand each other better than anyone else ever could - communication aside there are endless possibilities to which your relationship can grow. possibilities that he’s more than willing to find.

— ✦ : circling back to the communication concept, he’s never one to hide his feelings or suppress his emotions. in that department, he can help you come out of your shell and express your worries and troubles that you’re anxious about sharing with other people. there hasn’t been a single case where judgement is his first reaction and there never will be, because he accepts you as you. there’s no one who even comes close to your excellence and grace in his eyes - and there never will be as long as you keep him around.

— ✦ : your shared friends grow tired of you sometimes. immensely tired. they absolutely love you together - even kenma believes that you’re well suited - but the constant back-and-forth that you have is so sweet it’s sickening. whether it’s during practice or simply on the street, the flirtation never stops. “did you dress up just for me?” “you look so gorgeous i think my heart stopped.” “c’mon beautiful don’t give me that face, y’know you’re my world.” it never stops. however, he loves it and you love it - you wouldn’t have it any other way. it’s just how you work - how you function - and it’s so nice to know how much he loves you 24/7.

— ✦ : when you’re struggling with keeping up with school work or finding the motivation to put your hands on the keyboard - he’s right there supporting you. with his ambition and confidence in himself, he knows that he has the structure to support your needs along with his own. he doesn’t see your set backs as burdens or things that are hindering his own life - he rather sees you as an extension of himself. wherever you go, he does too. he gives you space when needed, but knows that he’s always going to be by your side when things get rough. he’s happily holding your hand every step of the way.

— ✦ : in the nights in which you’re just completely exhausted from the day and feel dried out and numb, he sets the stereo on low and plays your favorite playlist on shuffle. as soon as you walk in the door, his hands are on yours - palms encasing your flushed skin and leading you into your dimly lit living room for a dance. he towers over you, letting you rest your head on his chest, and sways you to the slow rhythmic beat. there aren’t any words that need to be said - you both speak enough as is - he simply understands your emotions on a deeper level that doesn’t need verbal communication. he gets you. you get him.

LET’S TAKE A LISTEN. YOUR LOVE SONG

— ✦ : ROAD HEAD by JAPANESE BREAKFAST

so dreaming baby

took that corkscrewed highway

lightless miles

of big rigs

lightless miles, miles and miles

THE NEXT STOP. YOUR PERFECT DATE

“heads up!” kuroo’s voice booms through the gymnasium. the sound bounces off the walls and echoes in your ears as you take position once more. you were in the midst of one of your weekly recreational matches against your friends and his - kenma, tsukishima, and bokuto being a couple of the lucky few that are forced to participate each time - and we’re awaiting the familiar feeling of the ball making contact with you skin. “that one’s all your’s, babe!”

“got it!” you pounce like a lioness, truly embodying the cat-like spirit of nekoma, and slam the ball as hard as you can against the gym floor. there’s a series of groans in response to your successful point, that being the winning spike, and in a split second you feel a pair of large hands encasing your waist. you’re lifted in the air, spun in a wide circle, before being set down gentle with an arm sling over your shoulder. kuroo has the proudest gleam in his eyes, smiling wide, and smirking at the annoyed looks the opposing team makes in your direction.

“that’s how it’s done guys, what can i say?” he nestles you closer, holding your face in his palms, and peppering kisses against your cheeks, eyelids, and forehead. he’s never been one to hide his physical affection, no matter how often you tell him it’s embarrassing. kenma, especially, hates being in the presence of your love. not because he hates it, just because the sight of it makes him want to hurl into the nearest trash bin. “my girl’s the best there can be! i mean, she’s the prettiest there is, too. she’s just perfect.”

you can practically see the hearts in his eyes as he gazes at you in adoration. he leans in once more, his destination being your lips on his, before you’re suddenly jolted to the side and sitting with your butt on the cold ground. “what the hell? did you just throw that at us?”

tsukishima glares, another volleyball already prepared for take off in his left hand as kuroo scrambles to save you from your fate. he picks you up easily, bridal style, and sprints out of the gym - narrowly dodging the onslaught of equipment that tsukki and bokuto are hurling your way. “it’s fine, baby.” he laughs, the chuckle vibrating in his chest as your giggling rings in his ears. that’s always been his favorite sound. “they’re just jealous. not everyone has such a perfect girlfriend, like i do.”

#animanga matchups #here u go bby <33

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Helplessly Hoping (Favored Ones, Part 19.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “And you consider yourself the saviour of the human race?” - Shawn James

Part summary: Just as Ellie demanded, there was the whole meeting about the fucking Baldwin cottage situation happening. And the results of it were more or less concerning.

A/N: I’ve tried to use as many in-game/trailer/promotional dialogue as I could, altering it to suit the story, and I’ve spent at least an hour alone on those dialogues (finding them in the first place, then re-writing it, altering it, etc.). Hope you’ll enjoy. (OPEN TAGS FOR FUNNY HAHA JOKE)

Warnings: Tommy is the purest of heart and the dumbest of ass, Jesse’s ass, and angry fucking Maria. Mentions of Abby, WLFs, torture and gore, anxiety. PROBABLY A LOAD OF TYPOS Y’ALL.

Word count: 7.3K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @peakymarvels @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes @mad-hatter-98 @sadiaafrin99 @flavorishy @mr-robot-x @

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Early spring of 2038, two days before departure to Seattle:

Learning how to walk on your legs again was kinda funny, especially when you had Joel and Ellie around most of the time. As suspected, Joel calmed down about the unnecessary fight rather quickly, focusing on more oppressing matters at that moment, inviting Ellie to look after you when he was gone and the other way around. You were still noticeably climbing, but soon, you could walk to downtown on your own and you didn't even have to beg Joel to stop for a sec to catch your breath.

Ellie, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, was still intrigued by the fact that you and Joel are now an official couple, but that didn't mean she had got the right to tell someone what to do. And she didn't even want to... It was just... Bothering her at some times. But as long as you were looking healthy and happy with the old man, she could still get over the whole situation somehow. The bad blood between you and Dina lasted for a few days until you played a card game for spending the evening with Ellie, which you one singlehandedly, yet you showed your character and told Dina she can keep your best friend for the night.

Life almost seemed to be going back to normal... Except it wasn't going anywhere. The only people who knew about it was you, Joel, Maria, and Tommy. You didn't want to tell Ellie and you hoped that your whole mental situation will be over before you and she have some girly plans. On many occasions, you've woken up in the middle of the night, straightaway paralyzed. A single muscle on your body couldn't move and all you saw was the woman looking down on you, asking the question over and over again - where is Joel Miller? Do you know him?

And anything you've tried wasn't helping you. Pills that should give you a sleepless night? You woke up in the middle of the night, panting and disoriented. Herbal teas? Made you sick. Joel hammering you to the bed before going to sleep? You've been staring at the ceiling as the man slept with his head on your naked chest. Joel and Ellie singing you a duet while you and Dina sat on the couch, watching these two arguing about every single detail? No, that didn't help either.

You didn't know if Abby wanted to trap you inside your head, but she accomplished the mission perfectly. You could work throughout the day, as long as the job didn't need a lot of walking around, you were still the same you. But as soon as no-one was looking at you, panic and anxiety got a hold on you. One time, you were even helping in the kitchen and you were joking around with the cooks - and suddenly, your gaze fell on one of the knives. Suddenly, you couldn't hear anything but cutting vegetables, and each of these sounds reminded you of the woman. The scar on your thigh started to burn as you suddenly sat in the corner, rocking yourself to keep calm.

There was still the old you inside of that head, but it wasn't quite the same person at all. You've been a former Firefly, yet you weren't on a single mission. You killed a human person before - just to protect the man you loved. What Abby has done to you was barbarism, brutality, and vileness. And that was bringing up the conflict inside of you around which you kinda could get your head wrapped around.

No-one knew what happened in the cottage yet, because you and Tommy wanted to think about the incident on your own first. And so you did - but it was tearing you up in halves. On one hand, you didn't care for that party of shitheads at all, you didn't want to see them again. You were just glad they had left, at least seemingly, and that they aren't a threat for you or Joel anymore.

On the other hand, you had the feeling that no matter who it was, they'll be back. They were searching after Joel and they didn't find the man the first time. Who was granting you that they won't come back for round two? This time killing you for good? Just slicing your throat for the fun of it? Another question was popping on your head rather frequently. Would Abby kill you straightaway if she'd figure out you're sleeping with Joel? Just for the fun of causing pain? Just to leave a message?

All you did was consider yourself lucky - if they wouldn't come when they did, you and Tommy would've laid there dead for hours, maybe days. But the luck was supposed to run out one day, right? It was just comforting you that it didn't run out on that March day. Normally, you weren't of these who would've sought revenge. You would just go on with your life, no matter how hard that would turn out to be. But Joel... When it came to Joel, the way you took the issues had changed. You wanted and needed to know he's safe. And until Abby and her friends were searching for the man, he wasn't safe.

I ain’t a good man at all, you know? You may be thinkin’ I am, but trust me, I ain’t. You could hear Joel repeating that sentence over and over again. I’ve done some terrible things and if you’d hear them, you’d most likely get up and never come back again. I was survivin’ for a damn long time. I’ve seen my friends end up dead. I’ve hurt many people. I’ve done stuff only the worst people do, you hear me? And Abby was just of the many people he’d done wrong or dirty in the past. The result of shit Joel had done.

But you hadn't got the feeling that Joel knew Abby personally. She was young, maybe at your age, just a few years older. Maybe exactly your age, it was hard to tell. But... If Abby had known Joel personally, she'd recognize Tommy. These men bared an undeniable likeness. So Joel wouldn't know who was she even if you'd ask him. The only thing you and Tommy took as a clue was the appliques on their jackets - WLF. Washington Liberation Front. They were soldiers just as you thought so. And came all the way from Seattle. To look for Joel. Which made you everything but calm. You asked Tommy about how Joel could've come to contact with such people... And Tommy didn't have a clue.

Which only put Joel's words in perspective. You didn't know a whole lot about your man and there wasn't any certainty that you'd ever get to know these things about him. What could Joel had possibly do tying up back to WLF? Smuggle guns, bomb, supplies? Kill someone for them..? Or one of them? Joel was a man of many faces and a harsh past, which you kinda knew ever since you got to know Ellie better. But it was things like these that put everything to context.

When you both agreed it's time to tell the rest, you've gathered only the closest people to discuss what to do now. Ellie and Dina's standpoints were set completely straight, they knew exactly what to do. Joel, Tommy, Jesse, and Maria were on the neutral to calm side of the spectrum. Diego was forbidden to come and you were somewhere between going after Abby and staying put. It was all to be settled down on that evening.

"So, we all know why were here." - You started, sitting at the head of the table next to Tommy. You two somehow got out of the situation WLFs put you in, but it was sure that you're not the same way you've been before - while you were only visibly limbing and some of the leg movements made you uneasy, you were fucked up mentally. Just as Tommy was perfectly healthy mentally, he told you he lived through worse things as a Firefly, his knee was poorly working as it should. Sure, he was walking, but there was no certainty that he can lead other patrols with his current physical state. - "And we decided that it will be better from my point of view because I heard a few things Tommy didn't." - You looked at the man, who nodded to assure you. - "Shall we?"

You've started since the very morning of the eighth of March - why did you even go to the patrol in the first place, how did the horde cleansing progress, up to the point where you first met her. When you mentioned her, tears appeared in your eyes again as you looked away from all the people to calm down. - "Give her a minute, it's just too much." - Tommy said to the rest as he walked to you with his cane in his hand, hugging your shoulder as he looked out of the window beside you. He shouldn't be walking at all, but because his knee wasn't drastically broken, he persuaded Bobby to give him just a brace and a cane. Either way, it was more than a month since the whole cottage thing, you both had got better. And sure, no-one was pressuring you to talk. You had the whole night if you needed to.

For you, it was a terrifying experience to go through all of this... Again. Mentally. It wasn't good for you to go back to the day in such details, but it needed to be done. Yet with every syllable, Abby's eyes got clearer and clearer inside of your head, watching you, judging you, laughing at you. The moment when she lifted you off the ground like a piece of shit, it was all there suddenly. Your throat clenched for a second while you re-lived through the memory, making your gasp for air and gently smooth the veins there. Tommy smoothed your shoulder carefully, looking at the profile of your face.

"Feelin' good now, kiddo?" - Tommy asked when you blinked twice to get yourself out of the moment. With a long sigh, you nodded and walked back to the table to continue with the story.

"There was a blizzard out there, you could barely see three feet in front of you. So the woman, named Abby, offered us to show us the way to a nearby cabin where she and her friends were taking refuge at the time. Naturally, we agreed to this offer because we would most likely get lost in the snow and freeze to death somewhere. Abby's friends saved us from a small portion of the horse, and they took us inside." - You looked directly at Joel for a minute, trying to find comfort inside his face, finding concern only. That wasn't a good sign. - "When I stepped inside, I immediately noticed that there's something wrong with the people. I've seen a lot of groups passing through Jackson to get some sleep, gather supplies, food, water... But these didn't look anything like it. The clothes, moves, each of them looked strong. There was this lady who approached me and asked me if I'm feeling okay. To which I replied, that I am feeling alright.

I tried to signal Tommy that I don't feel safe inside that house, but he was talking to this Hispanic man, I didn't quite catch his name. So I played along and followed Abby deeper into the house. There, I met... Oscar? Omar? Oliver...? Owen. This man was Owen. And he was furious and they started to argue. For a reason, everyone started to gather in the room to look at us, and I could tell straight away that something was going downhill. Tommy was chatting with them and suddenly, Abby turned to me and asked me this question. I can hear the voice asking it every fucking night, again, again, and again. It haunts me." - A shaky breath left your lips as you jolted in discomfort. Tommy already knew what was coming, so he just stared at his hands entwined on the table.

"Do you know a man named Joel Miller by any chance?" - You repeated, hearing Abby asking you the question, staring down on you. You've been feeling everything you felt when Abby was just one foot away from you. The nerves, dry mouth, and the desperate need to keep yourself under control. And this time, it even felt harder than before, because you knew what comes next.

"To which I replied that I don't know any man by that name. But I fucked up, it is how it is. And I swear to you that this... Woman... Put her arm around my neck, picked me off the ground, and choked me. And all she said was 'Hey, we don’t wanna kill you. But we will.' And she tried to do just that. Before you guys came in." - A shiver ran down your spine as the picture of the woman kneeling beside you popped up inside your head. Owen holding the chair as Abby had beaten you up, helping her with the nails. Your hands were looking disgusting. Sure, it was way better and most of the nails started to grow back, but the ones on your pinkies and ring finger were gone.

"What are we waiting for?" - Ellie asked suddenly, having every stare turned at her and Dina. She was visibly shaken - not only did they fucked you up like two dogs, but they were after Joel as well. - "Washington Liberation Front. We know where that is, don't we?" - The girl asked fiercely, but Maria pointed her palm at the girl, stopping her from hyping a super-dangerous plan which would only get everyone killed.

"Joel, when did you work for the WLF?" - Maria furrowed, looking at her brother-in-law. - "I thought you were smuggling for the Fireflies and other people back in Boston, but you never mentioned running the business in Seattle... Or in this area generally." - The woman asked silently, and each of you looked at Joel. But the man was out of his mind as well - it was his fault, just as he thought so. The past always found its way to him, didn't it?

"I've never worked in Seattle. I don't know any WLFs, never met 'em." - Joel answered shortly, looking down on his palms

"It doesn't matter. I don't care who the fuckers are, what did they want of what they need from the old man here. They've been trying to get one of us, what if they show up again?" - Ellie jumped straight to the chase again, this time standing up. - "They most likely know where we live, it doesn't take a genius to figure out the patrol trails, and they've been here once, what thing on Earth is holding them from getting into the area again? Huh? And what if they kill us all? What if they bring more people back? Huh?" - She looked at everyone with a hint of disgust in her face. This time, Tommy was the one to take a calm approach.

"Kiddo, sit down, will ya? We have no idea what we're walkin' into. You don't know anythin' about them. We don't know how large that group is, how armed they are," - "What are you doing?" - Ellie snapped back. The girl was walking on mighty thin ice, as Joel would say, but you got what she's after. These people were nothing but a threat to Jackson - and more importantly to Joel. You couldn't simply leave that be, hoping they won't come back. But you didn't say anything out loud, you just sat there and looked into the table desk, minding your own business.

"I don't care. Joel told me that this isn't my decision to make. Guess what, Tommy. It is from now on. These people tried to harm my family. I think you got the best idea about what kind of people they are. And I'm going no matter how you decide. You can't stop this. You can't stop me." - The girl walked out of the room, leaving you all there. Dina looked at Maria, who was already scheming a plan.

"This is suicide. No-one ain't is going after them. I don't care, I... I will put my men around her house to keep an eye on her..." - Maria was whispering frantically, trying to figure out what to do to keep the girl down. Joel exhaled loudly and took one look at you, closing his eyes in pain. He knew that empty look you were giving the piece of furniture. Whenever Ellie was about to take off, you will follow her for a few various reasons - you didn't want to get herself killed. And you didn't want to see Joel get hurt. And deep down inside, there was another reason which was the most understandable - you wanted to hurt back the people who hurt you. It could be barely seen that you're trembling, thinking about what you'll do. The world seemed to be so empty suddenly.

There was no other choice - you were going to Seattle.

"If she decides to go, Maria, no patrols are going to stop Ellie. The question is who will come with her." - Jesse told everyone quietly. With that, Joel had the last spark of home inside of him - maybe you won't be so stupid to agree with Ellie's short-fire plan. Yet when you closed your eyes, having a small wrinkle on your forehead, he knew that you're not the case.

Shortly after, everyone got home. And it felt off-putting to watch Joel's house, knowing you'll leave as soon as Ellie decides to go. You and Dina agreed about exchanging the intel the other day, once she and Ellie come up with some plan.

The house was looking way better than ever before. Up to that point, you never realized it has a perfect location in a good neighborhood. Especially, when Joel didn't have many neighbors. All you could see was the best ways to sneak to his door, and when you left that out, you only knew the inside of the house. And as the spring was slowly coming back, the flowers, bushes, and trees started to finally blossom after the long winter. Birds were singing the whole time you were walking to the porch, the warm wing was smoothing your skin and messing with your hair. How comes that you've never noticed the golden film of the sunlight? Or the innocent white of the evening clouds?

"You 'kay back there?" - Joel asked you from opening the door. You were leaning into the railing, watching the surroundings. After a small while of watching the man, you gave him a vulnerable smile and nodded. For a minute, Joel still stood there and waited for you to come in, but you didn't move an inch. You turned your head back to look at the neighborhood and the mountains in the landscape. That was when he walked next to you, leaning into the wood as well. - "What's goin' inside that head of yours, huh?" - He whispered, slowly pulling closer until your shoulders bumped into each other.

"Never noticed how beautiful Jackson can be - until now, cowboy." - An honest whisper left your lips. Joel didn't like your expression at all - there was this sadness and melancholy inside of it and Joel would bet everything that he knew exactly what was going on inside your head.

"Girl, if you're thinkin' about the Abby kiddo, stop it. For both my and yours sake. This kind of thoughts won't bring any good, you hear me?" - The man whispered and lowered his head enough to kiss the top of your shoulder. - "What happens at Baldwin, that stays at Baldwin. I don't want you to see you get near the stables, weaponry, you won't be sneakin' out at midnight, we clear?" - Joel asked, having you snickering at his statement and the whole topic. You knew you're about to pull that stunt. And he knew it as well. But it felt cute that he's putting so much care into this whole thing.

"I told you that I'm not thinking about the Baldwin cottage thing. I'm not. I'm just looking at nature, taking in the sights, you know?" - You smiled, trying to look at least a bit happy for Joel. The man looked into your eyes for a moment with an unnatural expression. But in the end, he nodded and looked away from you. Both of you knew that you're lying, but neither of you wanted to talk about the lie more closely. - "I was thinking about playing some gee-tar. What about you bringing me that instrument and making me a cup of coffee before we go to sleep, Joel?" - You asked after a moment, having the man realizing how vulnerable you were at the moment. He could just call you out about the bullshit. Yet he didn't. Joel just smoothed your back with his palm, pulling you a bit closer.

"You don't drink coffee. Didn't the coma messed with your brain, baby girl?" - The man asked but slowly walked to the door. You just sighed, reminding him of sugar. He brought everything anyway - both the guitars, both the mugs with the coffee and some fruits you could both snack on. The first songs you've played were shaky and off the rhythm, your voice wasn't the best either, which had you cringe a lot.

The man was calming you down, reminding you to have patience and not to jump into things too quickly. The best moment of the night was when you played A-Ha together, Joel playing the instrument while you curled up in the rocking chair, which he brought for you from the cabin in the woods, and sang. When the conversation you two had slowly faded away, you caught yourself falling asleep as Joel was playing with his guitar, playing parts of various songs you didn't even know. He had woken you up an hour or so after, making sure you won't be too bitten by mosquitos.

The following day, the signal you were waiting for came - Dina ran to you while you were helping in the kitchen and the diner. She told you, very hastily, that you will take off the following day, two hours after midnight, and that you'll have a meeting point at the south breach. Jesse, who was authorized to spy on both you and Dina, along with Ellie and Joel, had to see it because of course, he had. It was quite logical when you had a shift in the kitchen at the same time.

"What are you two whispering about, birdies?" - The boy leaned between your heads. If you had to be honest, he was looking good with the apron and a crooked smile on his lips as he held the bowl with the yeast dough. After a smile while of looking at him, you gave him your typical chuckle, getting back to the vegetables in front of you.

"About your ass." - You answered innocently. At that, Dina joined you, leaned her ass into the counted next to your workplace. Her eyes looked at her ex-boyfriend's ass shamelessly. After a moment, her agreeing hum sounded next to your ear as both you and Jesse snickered. - "I mean, Y/N's not wrong. Maybe you'll finally have your luck with Bobby now you're single?" - Dina asked, offering you a hand to do a high five. The boy looked at you with an offense in his grinning face, running his tongue along the line of his teeth.

"All I said is that the lady has a nice bottom. It was at the Christmas party, there was a lot of eggnogs and I was drunk. Don't ever bring that up again. Deal?" - Jesse pointed the wooden spoon at the two of you. Dina and you behaved childishly quite often, but it was never too inappropriate or annoying. You know where to put the stop to the whole playing-around thing.

"I certainly can't promise that, Jesse." - "Me neither" - You both shook your heads and you started to cut the tomatoes again. You already cleaned and cut more than one big bag of them and there was still a lot remaining. And trust me, you were a lot in the kitchen since you got back from the Baldwin place. It was occurring because of two main reasons - Maria wanted to have you under control and you still weren't sure about somehow getting through the whole patrol process.

"I would miss this... If you'd were going to Seattle." - Jesse whispered, looking into the dough in front of him. Dina flashed her eyes at you and licked her lips swiftly. Jesse had to know that you were up to something and he even had to know what was that something. - "Thank God you're not that dumb." - Jesse gave you a shining smile over the shoulder, leaning back to the dough.

"Yeah, exactly. Thank God we aren't." - You repeated and watched Dina leaving as she pointed two fingers up to signal you the time you, her, and Ellie will meet up. Neither of you planned on sleeping that night - you decided to sneak out, walk at least five miles from Jackson, find a cover and sleep there. So it was special for you when you and Joel were getting into bed. Neither of you felt like sex, so you just told each other about your days as you laid down, preparing for some sleep. Just like the first time, he'll wake up and he'll be alone. That was almost poetic.

It was a repeating cycle - but this time, Joel won't find you wandering around the city. Sure, the man got a little suspicious when you didn't want to cuddle closer and you just laid there facing each other. While the man was already drifting off, or so you suspected, you were just laying there and memorized every inch of his face. The gray, maybe-too-long but still maintained haircut and trimmed beard, a bit crooked nose with a small scar in the middle, deep wrinkles on his forehead and two leading down from his cheeks - these were visible especially when he spoke or smiled at you. Your hand was itching to feel the nicely-shaped lips, slowly caressing away down to his throat to feel the rough skin with fading suntan. But you just laid there with tears in your eyes, fighting an urge to cry.

He was beautiful. He was. And you were leaving him just to make sure he was safe. What a fucking irony.

To your surprise, you had fallen asleep. When you woke up, you've just opened up your eyes and looked around, Joel wasn't in the bed. First, you thought you're late and that he maybe knew what you were planning on doing, but you exhaled slowly when you heard the water in the bathtub moving around. He was probably taking one of his late-night baths. He had tendencies to do that when he was sleeping poorly or when he had woken up in the middle of the night. But it urged you to act quickly.

You pulled a backpack from under the bed, checking that there are your gun and the knife. Quickly, you threw some sweatshirt and a few t-shirts to change on your journey, put some warm clothes on and sneaked downstairs to put the boots on. You were moving around swiftly and quietly to make sure Joel won't be suspicious - he had to hear you walking around the place, but there wasn't a single word coming from the bathroom, so you supposed you're safe.

Slowly, you took in a long breath as you palmed the doorknob, closing your eyes. - "Lord, please grant me your mercy and take care of Joel when I'm gone. And make sure hell forgive me over the time, deal?" - You prayed. You never went to the church and you, neither Fireflies nor your parents weren't religious people. You didn't know how prayers worked, what to say, or how to concept it. But it felt good to say something to the entity up there. And if there wasn't anything, you just felt good about saying it out loud.

Shit almost hit your pants when the dining room lit up suddenly and Joel leaned his shoulder to the doorframe. He didn't even have to say a word and you already knew he's pissed. He was clothed, just after a bath and his furrow, dear Lord, that was some nightmare fuel.

"You goin' somewhere?" - The man asked quietly, crossing his forearms on his chest. Slowly, your hand let the doorknob go. A quick cuss left your lips when you smoothed your wet hands on your thighs, taking in a deep breath. Jesus, you never felt so bad. You were busted, like five-year-old stealing candy from the cookie box. - "Joel..." - You put one of your palms up, trying to calm him down before he'd let the thunder fell on you.

"I asked you 'bout lettin' the whole Baldwin thing go and you looked me in my damned eyes and said 'yea'. Did you think that you're so unobtrusive, actin' like you hadn't an idea that I know what's up? You think you're so clever, huh? Jesse told me 'bout the small date you and Dina had in the kitchen." - Joel walked to you slowly and you could tell that you're just fucked up. There was no other way to put it. Joel busted your ass and probably, he told Maria, so you weren't going anywhere.

"Don't try to stop me, Joel. If you stop me now, I'll just sneak out later. All it would do would be setting Dina and Ellie alone, and if there'd be just the two of them..." - You started to talk frantically, but Joel's palms on your shoulders made you stop. He was looking you in the face with a slight furrow. When you wanted to wiggle out, his palm caught your cheek and the man made you look up at him.

"I am not stoppin' you. I told you, baby girl, that if you'd like to go after 'em, we will go after 'em together. I am disappointed and we'll need to talk about that later, but I won't be stoppin' you, nor Dina, nor Ellie. I just don't wanna lose you, 'kay?" - The man breathed out as the oxygen in his throat hitched. You put both your palms on his chest, looking him in the face. Your tongue tried to tell all the words you wanted to tell him, all the syllables you had inside your head, but nothing came out of your mouth.

Was there any sense in trying to talk Joel down from coming with you? The man had his head and he was stubborn, so you wouldn't stop him for shit. This was dangerous for him. Joel wasn't the youngest, his reflexes weren't that good either, and... Anything could go wrong. He could die. He could die for real. Slowly, you licked your lips, hugging the man. Sure, it will weird Ellie out to have Joel coming with you on another adventure. But... More eyes see more, more brains know more and more hands could do more, right? Ellie will find her way around it, you were sure of that.

"Took my revolver and the ammo I've had hidden for it with me. You're taking your bow and quiver, right?" - He whispered to your ear. Oh. OH. The bow and arrows. You would've forgotten it at home if Joel didn't bring it up. Because of the pressure around.

With a smile, you walked to the cabinet you kept your toys in, taking them out. - "You're secretly hoarding ammo without telling Maria about it? Where are the days when your ass didn't take any ammo with it on patrols?" - A question rang throughout the silent house, having Joel chuckle in response. - "You're the most paranoid person I know, Miller. But I love for that, God knows I do." - You walked back, putting the weapon on the table as you wrapped your hands your the nape of his neck. - "I love..." - Joel answered, but he was interrupted by the noises coming from the outside.

The subtle romantic moment was ruined by something going on on the street. Quickly, you walked to the window to look out of it - and your eyes widened horrifiedly when you saw Maria stomping right to your door, leading Dina and Ellie behind her. Fuck, she must've caught them earlier. And she looked so pissed that you felt your stomach tighten.

"Did Jesse told Maria about this?" - You asked Joel, quickly hiding your and his backpack, putting the arrows and the bow down from the table. It was weird enough to find you both dressed up for a stroll at two a.m., but when Ellie and Dina were busted already, you were busted too.

"No, the boy didn't tell her. He just wanted me to know 'cause he was worried you're gonna get yourself killed, that's what he told me." - Joel shook his head, already watching his sister-in-law stomping on the porch, knocking on the door. Well... Maria didn't knock. She almost broke the door in halves.

For a moment, Joel looked at you to see if you're calm enough and then, he finally opened up, a crooked smile playing on his lips. Ellie's eyes shot wide open when she saw him all ready as well, but there wasn't space for her to speak, so she just sent you a nod. And Dina? She looked the worst, like a small kid who waited for a slap. - "Hey. Wouldn't expect you here so late, Maria, howdy," - Your man started charmingly, bit the blonde woman just pushed him out of the doorframe, walking straight to the dining table.

"What happened?" - You whispered to Ellie. Before the girl answered, she licked her lips and shook her head, giving you a clear idea. She didn't know. But before she opened up her mouth, Maria pointed her finger into the wooden desk of the table.

"Sit down, all four of you. And don't test my patience." - She ordered quietly, but her voice hinted on how infuriated she was. The situation was wickedly hilarious - Joel, a man in his early fifties, you, and two girls around their twenties were getting bitched down like a band of kindergartners. And by the looks of it, Maria wasn't slowing down.

"Maria, I've headed to Seattle, I wish I could let it all go, but I can't. I have to bring these people to justice." - She started to read from a piece of paper in her palm, looking at you and Ellie specifically. - "Ellie was right. I can't let them get away with the stuff they've done to the poor girl and with the stuff they planned on doing. I just can't. What if they'd come back, attacking at us in full force? What's holding them back?" - She read the question mockingly, but let you all know she doesn't want to get an answer on that one. She licked her lips to progress with the letter.

"I know that at least one of the three girls will come after me. Assign patrols checking on their houses in the night, make them busy, take their guns, lock the guns and horses up, maybe lock all of them up?" - Maria was getting more and more infuriated just by reading the text. So Jesse didn't tell on you. Tommy had set to Seattle on his own, holy motherfucking love of Jesus Christ. That was just a dumb idea which sure will get him killed.

"Buy me some time so I can end this on my own terms. Love you always, Tommy." - She finished and leaned her palms into the table. - "Do you realize what this letter means? Any of you? He's gonna get himself killed." - Maria bent the paper in halves, taking in a long breath.

Ellie rolled her eyes and you could see her inflating her cheeks with anger. Each of you was in a different stage of anger at that moment. And Ellie's was most probably the most hot-headed and childish, but she spoke first nonetheless. - "I told you that you can stop this, Maria. We need to finish this. He should've taken us with him. You should've given us a group to go after those fuckers right away!" - The girl whispered recklessly, looking into the desk with tongue running over her front teeth. The blonde woman sighed loudly, rolling her eyes.

At that, Maria laughed cold-heartedly, looking at the girl with anger burning inside her eyes. Whatever was going on inside Maria's head, it was a real fight. Dina turned her head at you when you breathed out, shook your head, and lowered it down. This was your fault. Your fucking fault. Tommy had the feeling that he has to do it for you. The man could barely work and his arm still wasn't good either. This mission wasn't only a suicidal one, it was pure madness. - "Wish I could." - The old woman looked Ellie in the eyes rather daringly, as if she was daring the girl to do something.

"So, now what, Maria? You wanna lock us up inside our houses? Take away our guns? Will you make us... Busy?" - Ellie opposed and finally looked at Maria. This situation was extremely uncomfortable for everyone - while Ellie had full-on one on one argument with Maria, while the three of you, you, Dina and Joel, sat there in dead silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. But you still listened to the topic of the conversation, in case of Maria would try directly verbal-assaulting anyone else. Sure, she was just mad, but if this fight would go off the rails... Some rather nasty things could've been said. Some of which couldn't be taken back.

"Well, when you're asking me so nicely, I'd prefer that you'd both stay," - Maria sighed and looked at you and Ellie sitting next to each other. You two were definitely where this suicidal idea to go to Seattle came from, she was sure of that. You most likely wanted to protect Joel, which as cavalierish as it was crazy, and Ellie wanted to revenge you. At that, Ellie spangled on her feet, having an offended expression in her face. When she pointed her finger at maria, the woman lowered her head. - "That's not gonna fucking happen," - " I'd prefer that you'd both stay, but I know you better." - With that, Ellie shut up in surprise as Maria walked to the other half of the table, now looking at Joel and Dina.

"Are you going with them?" - She rose her eyebrows. The man didn't answer, he just nodded, and Dina let out an offended 'yeah' as if it wasn't obvious.

"What did you planned on doing? Just sneaking outta here? On foot? Huh?" - Maria made herself snicker ironically after hearing another yeah, this time from Ellie. You, you were impossible. Sneaking on foot out of Jackson and traveling to Seattle? In the cold and stormy spring that was coming? Sometimes, you were dumber than Maria thought. Everyone was silent as you watched Maria looking out of the window into the night neighborhood, taking in another deep breath. When she was sure she won't kill any of you on the spot, she turned back to the table, leaning into it and staring into everyone's eyes.

"I told the stable to let you out with Sadie and Shimmer. Grab some ammo too. And some food and sleeping bags." - At that, each of you shut up. And Maria started tearing up, so she closed her eyes for a moment to calm down.

"Thank you, Maria." - Dina whispered with true respect in her voice, watching the lady calming down by walking around Joel's dining room. But then, she looked at you and Ellie with a saddened smile. - "Just, uh, do me a favor and bring my dumbass husband home in one piece, please. And... When you come back from there, we won't be ever talking about it again. No Abby, no WLFs, no golf clubs, no cottage in the mountains. We'll pretend that it never had happened." - Maria sighed. Ellie started nodding as the first one as she went to hug Maria tightly to calm the woman down. Then you went to share the hug with them, having Dina joining in as the last one. Joel sat there and watched you with a sad smile.

"All right then." - Maria stepped aside, looking at the three of you. You were always together when you did something good, something bad or something crazy. And this, to Maria's surprise, checked every box. - "Get going, you're... The way to Seattle is long, even on horseback and you need as much daylight as you can get. And to your information, Jesse didn't tell me you're planning on leaving. It was Diego who heard it." - And with that, Maria walked out of the house with the letter in her hand, shaking hands and teary eyes.

You stood there for a little longer, not knowing how to react. And as usual, Ellie was first to break the awkward silence. - "Holy motherfucking shit. I can't believe it worked out." - She sighed and sat down for a little longer as you and Joel get to preparing your gear again. Dina scoffed ironically, leaning into the back of the chair.

"Not to be the one who's breaking it to you, but everything had fucked up as much as it could and Tommy with his fucked up leg and arm is currently MIA." - Well, that was one way to look at the situation as well.

"Don't worry 'bout him for now. He's a capable guy, I saw a lot of things he has done while he was a Firefly. Trust me, if someone should be worried, it's the fuckers in Seattle." - Joel answered at that statement and zipped his jacket all the way under his chin, controlling the stuff he picked up once again. Your backpacks were full of personal stuff, but once you'd get to the horses, you'll do some space management and it'll be good. - "Since when you're going, old-timer? I don't see this happening." - Ellie licked her lips, watching Joel's face with one of her stubborn gazes.

"Then open up your eyes, kiddo. If she's comin', I'm comin'." - The man looked at you with a smile and you smiled back. Both the girls were uncomfortable for a while, watching the two of you, but after a small while, Ellie nodded and clapped. - "'kay. Fine. Alrite. Maria's right. The earlier we go, the further we get, the sooner we can catch some sleep."

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kythed · 4 years

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💕Hello! If it's all right was could I ask for a matchup? I'm a straight gal, 5'2" tall gal with pale skin and a thin form. I also have long brown hair, blue eyes and glasses.

As for personality, I'm kind, reliable and hardworking, though a little awkward in large social groups. I enjoy joking around and prefer looking at the bright side of things. My mbti is infj (and ennegram 9w1). I prefer my friends to be considerate and open-minded, someone who doesn't judge anyone by their first impression. I make a lot of bad jokes, so they need to have a sense of humour as well, or at least tolerance for mine😅

My biggest hobby is writing, which I think about almost around the clock. Fantasy and horror are my favourite genres to write, and for character inspiration I often do people-watching. I also sing, mostly in a choir, and go out for hikes in the nature because I love the fresh air and beautiful sceneries. My worst fear is letting people dear to me down and not being there for them in their time of need. I try my best to check up on them but sometimes I wonder if I'm doing enough . . .

My motto would be "If you're going to do it, make sure you don't have regrets later." as I strongly dislike leaving what I start unfinished. It makes me anxious.

My love languages are quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation. I'd like my s/o to know that I overthink often, that my silence doesn't mean I'm angry on uninterested but that I'm stuck in my own thoughts. A deal-breaker is definitely narcissism. Confidence is great but I don't like anyone who thinks the world envolves around them.

Thank you for taking time to read this! I hope it was all righ. Have a great day😊

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thanks for the request ! i hope you enjoy :-)

- this was an incredibly easy choice for me; it just makes all around perfect sense-- I match you with kuroo tetsurou

- you need someone to keep you moving in the right direction because you burden yourself with way too much shit that shouldn’t even be your responsibility

- he helps you to identify what you really want in life and makes you pick n choose a couple of goals to focus on at once rather than doing everything and anything (something tells me you have a hard time prioritizing and saying no to people)

- you help him stop n smell the roses every once in a while because that man doesn’t know when to take a break

- you both share this incredible attention to detail and you both highly value and love getting to know other people

- he’s the one who booked you your first appointment with a publishing house once you finished your first novel and he used his death glare to scare the poor publisher into giving you a higher percentage of royalties on each sale

- SCRABBLE. y’all play a highly competitive game of scrabble every friday night and you always win. this typically culminates in kuroo throwing a tantrum and tickling you mercilessly until you agree it was “practically a tie” (nevermind the fact that you literally won twice the points he did)

- you love fantasy, kuroo loves sci-fi so your conversations are constantly peppered with ridiculous rants and arguments (e.g. “who would win in a fight, a dragon or a tie fighter?” “definitely a dragon babe, i mean it has fire and--” “okay but what if the tie fighter was piloted by a jedi?”)

- physical touch may not be one of your love languages but it sure is one of his-- he’s constantly got his chin resting on your head, or he’s slipping his hand around yours, or putting it on your lower back-- he also really loves giving you these crazy bear hugs (like picking you up and swinging you around type shit) because he likes to feel all big n protective

- I mean the man is literally almost a foot taller than you so can you blame him?

- you guys have literally the worst inside jokes that no one else understands but they send you into hysterics each times until you’re both crying with laughter (lots of terrible puns, yo mama and knock knock jokes that don’t even make sense)

- like once y’all were on a trip to rome and caught a cab to your hotel from the airport but then it took a wrong turn and it ended up that it actually wasn’t a cab and you had just climbed into the back of some little old italian man’s car

- so now whenever y’all are driving somewhere and accidentally go the wrong direction one of you says “mama mia!” in a terrible italian accent and you start screaming with laughter ITS LITERALLY SO OBNOXIOUS LMAOOO

- because you’re both so intuitive that the relationship is like being two halves of a whole-- you can instantly tell when the other is even the slightest bit down and adjust your behavior accordingly

- AND y’all remember the most random shit about each other

- like he once absentmindedly mentioned he loved this particular brand of orange juice and then you started buying only that brand to stock the fridge and he absolutely loves you for it

- and on your first date when you went hiking you pointed out a clump of flowers on the side of the path you thought were pretty so on the way back he secretly picked one and dried it in the pages of a heavy dictionary and got it framed for your birthday

- honestly it’s just little considerate things like this that make the whole relationship

- he always makes sure to involve you in group conversations because he knows it’s your tendency to be shy and hang back

- good conversation is a big deal for you guys but so is quiet time-- you frequently cook dinner together without exchanging a single word, just kinda doing your own thing (like you’ll chop the salad and he’ll make the pasta) and listening to your playlist

- speaking of music, you used to refuse to sing for him until one day he heard you singing in the shower so he crept right up next to the door and recorded it on his phone, and then when you opened the door he shrieked “AHA! CAUGHT YOU!” which nearly scared the shit outta you and made you drop your towel

- but, ya know, you don’t even need to be self-conscious about your singing around this man because he doesn’t have a musical bone in his body and will think that every single note coming out of your mouth sounds like an angel chorus

- overall you guys are that couple that is just so clearly in tune with each other, you know each other like you know yourselves and it’s such a delight to see (hanging out with you is a third wheel’s nightmare tho)

your song: first date by blink-182 (he loves punk pop and you think it’s dorky as hell but he’s adorable when he’s playing the imaginary drums and head banging-- he actually got you to accompany him on the air guitar eventually and it’s lit asf) plus the song perfectly captures the easy, eager way you guys love each other

your favorite movie to watch together: the fellowship of the ring. he wasn’t really into the idea at first (he wanted to watch terminator) but now he’s as big a tolkien fanatic as there is. once you brought him to one of those fantasy renaissance fairs and y’all had the time of your lives.

your relationship in one quote: “In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. / In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” - maya angelou

#matchups #matchup #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu matchup #gwensmatchups

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momentsinsong · 4 years

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Moments In Song No. 027 - Hunter Hooligan

Music speaks to all of us, regardless of where we come from or what we’ve been through. Whether it be from 50 years ago, or today, music has the ability to liberate us from the mundanity of the world. Hunter has spent half their life learning about the special role music plays in our lives and used that understanding to propel their artistry forward. We talk to them about their deep dive into the history of music, the unconditional support of their Grandmother, and the importance of Pop.

Listen to Hunter’s playlist on Apple Music and Spotify.

Words and photos by Julian.

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Julian: When I was listening to your playlist, I noticed that there were two very distinct halves to it. That first half is much more upbeat, dancy, techno almost, there’s some disco in there. Very much a four on the floor type of feel. And then that second half is very much more slowed down, and has that singer-songwriter/acoustic type of feel to it. Is that what you were going for when making your playlist?

Hunter: I love making playlists. I am that person who would make friends mix CDs and stuff like that. Every one would be so carefully curated. That’s why I was having such a hard time [Laughs]. Thinking about narrowing down my music taste into 10 songs, I was like, “Wow! This is big.” You know what I mean? I think there was a conscious effort to order songs a certain way. Even when I’m making my projects I am very conscious about the song placement, the tracklisting, I’m very very thoughtful and purposefully about it. I sent you one version of the playlist but I made like six versions that were totally different. It’s just because music is my life. I was trying to think of songs that were really important to me, songs that I loved my whole life, songs that are pretty new to me. I was just trying to find a balance of the songs that I like and also trying to make it make some semblance of sense.

When you were making the different versions of your playlist, how do you know once you’ve made the final one? What was the deciding factor?

Even up until the night I sent it to you, there were like 15 songs on the playlist. I was like, “I can not believe I have to cut 5 of these songs!” I think every one of those songs is a doorway into my taste. Every single one of those songs is a good signifier of so many other songs that are similar to it that I like.

So you’re saying like, this one acoustic Amy Whinehouse song is the entryway to a bunch of other singer-songwriter stuff you like. Or this Charli XCX is an entry way to more feel good poppy stuff you like.

Yes, exactly. And so I think I kind of looked at it like a hallway with 10 doors and each door was to a room of infinite other amounts of music I love. I wanted to pick songs that were important to me, and songs that were special to me. Even the Charli XCX song which isn’t that old, and the FKA twigs song which also came out last year, they’re representative of so much more music I like, and what I like about music right now.

Which is what?

What I really like about “Gone” is that it is so carefully crafted as a Pop song, as far as the production goes. And lyrically it has the structure of a Pop song, there’s verses, there’s a chorus. I love that it is a collaboration. I think collaboration is everything. What I love about that song in particular is that it’s so expected, production wise, as a Pop song but the lyrics are so bizarre. The chorus-- there’s something very impenetrable about the lyrics of the chorus. There’s something really so dissociative about the lyrics, but it’s still so catchy and so emotional. You feel it. Even though I have no idea what the song is talking about. I think there’s clues as to what they’re singing about, but I think it’s something you feel more. They almost sound to me like an A.I. wrote them. Like if you fed an A.I. a bunch of Pop songs and then it spit out a chorus to its own Pop song, that’s what it would sound like.

I always feel like Charli XCX has always straddled the line between, “I can sing the catchiest, poppiest hook you’ve ever heard” but on the flipside “I can take you down to some artsy, weirdo, off the wall type stuff.

And that’s what I love. I really love artists that straddle that line, for today. I love people who are versatile, who are brave, who are shapeshifters. People who are not afraid to be incredibly straight-forward and simple, but also thoughtful and crafted. I think it’s really cool.

I definitely agree with you on that. We’re definitely seeing a resurgence of female pop artists who fall into that lane. If you think about Lorde, or Billie Ellish, or Tinashe, they straddle that line. That’s what you like about the new songs, what about the old songs on your playlist? What are some of the songs on there that you’ve loved forever?

“I Feel Love” by Donna Summer, to me, is one of the best songs ever written. It’s one of the best dance records ever made. It’s brilliant. The production is incredible. The vocal is incredible. It all just hits you so right. To think that this song was produced in the 70’s is mind blowing. I listened to that song and I’m like, “This sounds futuristic now.”

For me that song is a doorway into the music that surrounded me as a child. My parents had a really versatile taste in music and played a lot of stuff. My mom and I would do weekend Spring cleanings and she would load up the 6 CD stereo system and we would crank everything from Aretha Franklin, to Elton John, Aerosmith, Tupac, she loved everything. I think I inherited this excitement for music from her.

She also loved 90’s dance music that was on the radio when I was little. She would go to club nights at The Depot and get mixes from DJs and play them in the car. Also when I was really young, my family is all in N.A., and at the time they would put on these dances as a way for people in recovery to go to a safe space that wasn’t a bar or rave where they might find alcohol or drugs and relapse, and enjoy the music. My family would take me, and I was like 7 or 8, and the music there was just… that the first time I heard “I Feel Love.” So much 90’s dance music that I love now was played at those dances.

How does you starting out at 7 and 8 going to these dance parties evolve into the taste of music you have now?

I started working in studios when I was 13, and that’s when I really decided that I was going to make music.

When you say working, you mean in the actual studio?

Yeah early on I would bring in my songs, you know little things I would record. I would write with other people, I would ask to come and sit in on a session.

So this was a job you got or did you know someone in the studio?

So I started taking voice lessons and through my voice teacher got connected to different producers and engineers. And in my mom’s previous life, she was married to the original owner of Hammerjacks, which is a legendary Baltimore nightclub, so she knew people from then who were musicians and who had their own studios and spaces like that. I kind of just really made it a point to be in those places. Around that time I also felt like I wanted to have an education in what American music had always been, and so I started really early on listening to the first records ever made, which were anthropological in nature. From there I became really in love with Blues.

I wasn’t able to fit her on the playlist but she was there up until the very end, Bessie Smith. I mean this is someone who we’re talking about who was making music almost 100 years ago. I listened to her records and would sing them all the time. I feel like I learned so much about singing from her. She was so ahead of her time. From her ideas about her stage shows, to being a black queer woman, singing Blues in the segregated south, she was brilliant. She’s a forever artist to me.

I had this idea of giving myself an education of what Pop music in America had been over time. Because Pop music is just whatever is popular. Through that I listened to Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Dinah Washington, Billie Holiday, and then from there Eartha Kitt and Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Janis Joplin, Tina Turner, and I just kept following the times. Through that I heard so much music I had never heard before. I felt like music had this endless possibility of being anything.

And this was all on your own? You just decided to do this one day?

[Laughs] Yeah this is just what I did. I didn’t have a lot of friends. You know it’s the whole “queer youth” storyline. Outcast, freak, bullied, blah blah blah. I would spend a lot of time by myself and music was my friend. I wanted to know everything about it.

So you’re building your background knowledge with this research, gaining access to this studio, then decide to make your own music. What was that process like?

When I was really little, I would take songs off the radio and write new lyrics to them. So it would be the same melodies and all of that, but I would just write my own song. When my parents divorced, there was a lot of change and chaos in my family and just in my life, and that’s when I started writing my own original songs. That was when I was 13. Then I would take the original songs that I wrote to my voice teacher and she would help me put chords to them and create these songs. A lot of times it would be me singing this melody to her, and she would fiddle around with the piano a little bit and then we would come up with a chord progression we liked and record them on a cassette tape. Once I had a couple of songs there that I really, really liked, she suggested that I record them in a studio. She worked things out with my family and for my birthday they bought me studio time.

That’s like the best gift ever!

I know! It was this amazing, brilliant thing. It was my grandmother. My grandmother always supported my music and me singing. I had a job really young, around 13, working at a snack bar. But it wasn’t enough for studio time. And honestly she paid for most of the studio time when I was young. She was a domestic worker. She would scrub people’s toilets and then turn around and give me $150 for a day in the studio. And that was never a question.

What do you mean it was never a question?

She was never, ever like, “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if this is worth it.” Never. The sacrifice she made for that was never lost on me. I knew, even then, what that meant. To have someone who is working so hard, literally barely making enough to survive, support you. I don’t think I realized, that young, how poor my family was. I did know we weren’t wealthy by any means, so the fact that she would do that is amazing. I’m never not going to make this worth it, for her. If I were doing it for me, I would’ve walked away a long time ago. This industry is terrible. It’s full of people who will steal, people who will cut you out and leave you in the dust. I’ve lost a lot of skin in this game. The reason I do this is for my grandmother, my family, my ancestors.

My family is Native and has really been through it, for a long time. We have nothing to show for it. Every person in my family has experienced intense trauma, and I have as well. If this was all about “Look at me! I’m so talented,” if this is what it was about for me-- hell no. I would be a happy real estate agent at this point. It’s about making all of this sacrifice and trauma my family has been through mean something, and putting it into art. Maybe one day I’ll be on a Grammy stage, and maybe one day I’ll be dead in a ditch. I don’t know. But I do know that my life is for my community. People like me. People who can relate. At the end of the day that’s what’s important to me.

Do you take the history of your family and the sacrifices they’ve made, the vulnerabilities and emotions shared from the music you enjoy, and good old fashioned pop sensibility and incorporate all of those into the music you’re making now?

Definitely. For me, Pop music is about a feeling. There’s no pretext. You don’t have to know the story, you don’t have to know the language, you don’t have to know anything about it before you hear it. But when you hear that Pop song, you feel it. And that is universal. That’s why we see this huge rise in K-Pop. There’s not a parallel rise in people being able to speak Korean. People don’t always know what K-Pop stars are singing about but they feel it. Pop music is a feeling, a communication that transcends language barriers, time barriers, space barriers. That’s why Pop is what I’m aiming for. I want to connect. I want people to feel like there’s space for them in the music.

The music that I’m making now is coming from a place that is newer for me to create from. It’s authentic to what I’m feeling now and where I feel like so many people are at in the world. There’s a lot of pain. There’s a lot of exhaustion, anxiety, depression. I want to make music that makes people feel like they’re powerful. Like my new song “Metal Me.” To me that song is about personal power. Those sounds, that production, it feels powerful. I want people to feel like they can conquer their demons and fight everything against them. If I can make somebody feel powerful with a song, that’s it.

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#music #apple music #hunter hooligan #spotify #playlist #baltimore

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ianpriceisnotright · 4 years

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is it still you and i forever? - an ian and kennedy playlist

i. i don’t wanna go to school tomorrow. i can’t study thinking about you, and you know i always do. i don’t wanna go to sleep tonight when i can stay up thinking about you, and you know i always do. // even when you’re next to me, it’s not the way i’m picturing… but at least i got you in my head. // i wish you could see your face right now ‘cause you’re grinning like a fool. and we’re sitting on your kitchen floor on a tuesday afternoon. it doesn’t matter when we get back to doing what we do 'cause right now could last forever, just as long as i’m with you. you’re just a daydream away. i wouldn’t know what to say if i had you. // i think that you are the one for me, 'cause it gets so hard to breathe when you’re looking at me. i’ve never felt so alive and free when you’re looking at me. i’ve never felt so happy. and i’ve heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime, and i’m pretty sure that you are that love of mine. 'cause i’m in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you’ll be mine. and i see forever in your eyes. i feel okay when i see you smile. // you could be my favourite taste to touch my tongue. i know someone who could serve me love, but it wouldn’t fill me up… you could be my favourite faded fantasy. i’ve hung my happiness upon what it all could be. what it all, what it all could be with you… i’ve never loved like you. // your laugh echoes down the highway, carves into my hollow chest, spreads over the emptiness. it’s bliss. it’s so simple but we can’t stay. overanalyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed…? all we do is think about the feelings that we hide, all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign… and california never felt like home to me, until i had you on the open road and now we’re singing. // i came here with a load and it feels so much lighter now i met you. and honey you should know, that i could never go on without you... you're the one that i wanted to find. and anyone who tried to deny you must be out of their mind... honey you are the rock upon which i stand. // if you were to stop talking, i don’t know what i’d do. the future’s far less daunting walking into it with you. so drink till you can’t think, and pretend i’m what you’d choose, 'cause i can’t stop… my mind is blind to everything but you, and i wonder if you wonder about me too. // i wanna be alone. alone with you - does that make sense…? i don’t know what to do with your kiss on my neck. i don’t know what feels true, but this feels right so stay a sec. you feel right so stay a sec. // if i was something that you ever wanted, i’m all ears… i couldn’t hold a candle to you, but you were glowing in the dark. i was nervous just standing with you. you were glowing in the dark… oh, i knew from the beginning, it was you from the beginning. // 20 questions, we tell the truth. you’ve been stressed out lately, yeah, me too. something gave you the nerve to touch my hand. it’s nice to have a friend… call my bluff, call you “babe.” have my back, yeah, every day. feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend. it’s nice to have a friend. // there’s no way you don’t know how i feel. talked about you so long, now it’s almost real. you are never not on mind. i wanna be around you all the time. // i know you’re with me, and i’d love to see someone else call you… being chill with you, oh, it kills. i ain’t chill at all. we say, “i love you”, but we ain’t together… darling, do you think that if i talk enough, i will make you wanna be mine? // i’m your one-call away. motel halls, neon walls. when night falls, i am your escape… if you’ve been waiting for falling in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me… not anyone, you’re the one. more than fun, you’re the sanctuary… i’ll give you something so real. // we make a really good team, and not everyone sees we got this crazy chemistry between us... yeah we get off our face too easy, and we take jokes way too far, and sometimes living's too hard. we're like two halves of one heart. // fade into you. i think it’s strange you never knew.

ii. covered me in grey until i saw you. just another day until i saw you. it doesn’t matter if the stars forget us. it doesn’t matter if the world don’t know our names. it doesn’t matter if they talk about us. it doesn’t matter cause we are in, we are in love… is it real or are you joking? it's not true until its spoken. say the words if you dare to know them. we are in, we are in love. // kissing up on fences and up on walls on the way home. i guess it’s all working out now… you’re driving me wild, wild, wild. // morning, his place. burnt toast, sunday. you keep his shirt, he keeps his word. and for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts… one night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, “you’re my best friend.” and you knew what it was. he is in love. // let me be the one who never leaves you all alone. i hold my breath and lose the feeling that i’m on my own hold me too tight, stay by my side, and let me be the one who calls you baby all the time. i found my place in the world, could stare at your face for the rest of my days. // loving is easy. you had me fucked up… please don’t change a single little thing for me. // will you, won’t you, be the one i always know? when i’m losing my control, the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows you slow it down. oh, be my baby, and i’ll look after you. // and you need to know you’re the only one. and you need to know that you keep me up all night. oh, my heart hurts so good. i love you, babe, so bad… mad cool in all my clothes, mad warm when you get close to me… and you need to know that nobody could take your place. and you need to know that i’m hella obsessed with your face. // we’ve already made up our minds, and yes we know what love is. 'cause we are two old souls with two young hearts. // i’ve got no reason to doubt you, 'cause some things hurt and you’re my only virtue. and i’m virtually yours… and there’s certain things that i adore, and there’s certain things that i ignore, but i’m certain that i’m yours. i adore you, i adore you. // you know i told you that i wasn’t scared. well, i lied. you told me, babe, i only think of you… and i’m trying hard to make you love me but i don’t wanna try too hard. and i’m trying hard to take it lightly, but we’re here now. those four walls now are the only place that i can breathe out. and those four walls now are home… i wanna make you feel how i feel when i’m listening to love songs. // some keep saying we’re way too young. with you in my world, i’m safe and sound… i know this love is true. you always want me, and i want you too. my friend, take me to a place i know that i’ve never been before. my love, you take me to a place i’ve only heard of. stay, stay, stay here with me. // fuck your curfew, let’s just kiss more, 'til we see the lights over the city. if i gotta go soon, will you miss me…? you don’t know what you mean to me. even when you’re the reason i’m pissed off, you make me smile when i’m pissed off. cheer me on when i miss shots… if you ask me where i’m from, i say, “you”, 'cause you feel like home. ask me, “is this love?” i say, “i feel it in my bones.” // woke me up right after two. i stayed awake and stared at you, so i wouldn’t lose my mind… if we only live once, i wanna live with you. // take me to your best friend’s house. i loved you then and i love you now. don’t take me tongue tied, don’t wave no goodbye. // the secrets you tell me, i’ll take to my grave. there’s bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway. and if you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed. i know that you love me, love me, even when i lose my head… you set my soul ablaze. you fill me up, you fill me up. your love is so amazing. // all’s well that ends well to end up with you. swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover. and you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me, and at every table, i’ll save you a seat, lover. can i go where you go? can we always be this close, forever and ever? take me out, and take me home. darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover. // if you knew how lonely my life has been, and how long i’ve been so alone. if you knew how i wanted someone to come along and change my life the way you’ve done. it feels like home to me… if you knew how much this moment means to me, and how long i’ve waited for your touch. if you knew how happy you are making me. i never thought that i’d love anyone so much… it feels like home to me. feels like i’m all the way back where i belong. // if you’ll be my star, i’ll be your sky… just leave me your stardust to remember you by.

iii. lover come hold me, heads on the fritz, feelings comfortably mixed… he said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before, said that i don’t look like me no more… oh, we just don’t blend now. all of my attempts seem to weather. oh, i make you cringe now. don’t i make you cringe? // do you remember when we didn’t care? we were just two kids that took the moment when it was there… say it’s true, or everything that matters breaks in two. i’ll never ask for anyone but you. // today you were far away and i didn’t ask you why. what could i say? i was far away… how close am i to losing you? // well it’s four in the morning, things are getting heavy. and we both know that it’s over, but we both are not ready. and you’re talking like a stranger, so i don’t know what to do. and i’m callous and i’m cruel, to everyone but you… well i don’t think that it’s the end, but i know we can’t keep going. // i can read your foolish mind going dark from time to time. see the writing on the wall. we can’t be saved we knew it after all… how is my heart suppose to beat? how am i going to make it through? how is my heart suppose to beat without you? // i’m so scared of losing you, and i don’t know what i can do about it. so tell me how long, love, before you go and leave me here on my own? i don’t wanna know who i am without you. // oh how things have changed, feels like i don’t know you… you’re anxiously reaching out, but i’m losing my grip… there’s no way to go back now, couldn’t get back even if we wanted to. you were tryna make it work, you were sleeping in my shirt… i was hoping that you’d care. i was distant, i was scared. sometimes things don’t come full circle. // please could you be tender? and i will sit close to you. let’s give it a minute before we admit that we’re through… cause i remember the rush, when forever was us. before all of the winds of regret and mistrust. now we sit in your car and our love is a ghost. well i guess i should go… loved you every single day, made me weak, it was real for me. now i’ll fake it every single day 'til i don’t need fantasy, 'til i feel you leave. but i still remember everything, how we’d drift buying groceries, how you’d dance for me. i’ll start letting go of little things 'til i’m so far away from you.

iv. no heroes, villains, one to blame. while wilted roses fill the stage, and the thrill, the thrill is gone. our debut was a masterpiece, but in the end for you and me, the show, it can’t go on. we used to have it all, but now’s our curtain call… it’s our time to go, but at least we stole the show. // i know we tried to hold on, but where do you go when love just ain’t enough? now does it kill you when you think about me? are you as close to giving up as i’ve been? i know we kept losing touch, got lost in the rush. i pray you don’t hurt too much. // i’m really on the ropes this time. i’ve been fighting all my life for you. i never should have said goodbye, but maybe that’s what stupid people do. 'cause you gave me peace, and i wasted it. i’m here to admit that you were my medicine… i want to go back. wake me up when you were sleeping next to me, 'cause i really loved you. thank you for the happiest year of my life. // fuck my life, fuck my life. i want you back all the time. i think about you all night… and i know that you still love me too, just a little bit less than you used to. // well you’re gone and i wish i’d done it better. mostly i miss having you close to me. the only one who really ever knows me… there’s a hole in the middle of my heart again. can we start again, can we start again…? so i guess i’m gonna let you go, but you get to keep a little bit of my soul… let’s pretend that time heals all. // you are my sweetest downfall. i loved you first, i loved you first. beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth. i have to go, i have to go… oh i cut his hair myself one night. a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light. and he told me that i’d done alright, and kissed me 'til the mornin’ light. // i have loved you for the last time… i have touched you for the last time. // miss you terribly already… and i hope for your life you can forget about mine. just forget about mine. // everything will change. nothin’ stays the same. and nobody here’s perfect, oh but everyone’s to blame. all that you rely on and all that you can save will leave you in the morning and find you in the day… oh you’re all i taste at night inside of my mouth. you run away 'cause i am not what you found. oh you’re in my veins and i cannot get you out. // you didn’t wave goodbye, now you’re gone away… and is it home somewhere you call your own. are you happy now? just know that i’ll always be with you… even though you’re gone i’ll always call you mine… why don’t you take me with you? you’re far from me. // in my head, i play a supercut of us. all the magic we gave off, all the love we had and lost. and in my head, the visions never stop… but when i reach for you, there’s just a supercut… in my head, i do everything right. when you call, i’ll forgive and not fight. because ours are the moments i play in the dark. we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart. // i thought of you and where you’d gone, and the world spins madly on. // when you said your last goodbye, i died a little bit inside. i lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side… 'cause you brought out the best of me, a part of me i’d never seen. you took my soul and wiped it clean. our love was made for movie screens. but if you loved me, why’d you leave me? // so i’ll watch your life in pictures like i used to watch you sleep. and i feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe. and i keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are. hope it’s nice where you are… i don’t know how to be something you miss. never thought we’d have a last kiss. never imagined we’d end like this. your name, forever the name on my lips.

v. i’m so over you, the way that you look in a three-piece suit. i’m so over you, the way that you held me when nobody else would… i’m so over you, the way that you laugh at everything that i do. i’m so over you, the way that you said that you’d always be true… and maybe if i tell myself enough, maybe if i do, i’ll get over you. i’m falling around you. // now you’re just a page torn from the story i’m building, and all i gave you is gone… thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made. thought we built a dynasty forever couldn’t break up. it all fell down. // well, you can never know the places that i go. i still like you the most. you’ll always be my favorite ghost… sometimes i think it’s gettin’ better, and then it gets much worse. is it just part of the process? well, jesus christ, it hurts. // i’m still missing dancing in the back of a cab with you. convinced that we never had issues. that first love gets you bad, don’t it? i guess it’s hard to realize that your heart never healed right. // i wonder if you live there still. i kinda think you always will. if i tried, you’d probably be hard to find… there’s a lot i’ve not forgotten. // i remember the freckles on your back, and the way that i used to make you laugh. 'cause you know every morning i wake up, i still reach for you. i remember the roses on your shirt when you told me this would never work. you know even when i say i’ve moved on, i still dream for you… no matter where i go, i’m always gonna want you back. no matter how long you’re gone, i’m always gonna want you back. i know you know i will never get over you. // it’s been enough time to get you out of my mind, but now i’m thinking, i’ll never stop thinking about you. i’m just wondering when i’ll stop wondering about you… maybe i still got some shit left to say. maybe your ghost is stuck in my brain. // maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. but you, you never do… we haven’t spoke since you went away. comfortable silence is so overrated. why won’t you ever say what you want to say? even my phone misses your call, by the way. // i made you laugh, i made you cry. i made you open up your eyes, didn’t i…? am i the greatest bastard that you know? the only one who let you go? the one you hurt so much you cannot bear? well, we were good, when we were good… i never meant to let you down. // i never thought that we’d throw it all away, but we threw it all away. and i’m a little bit lost without you… but i’ll be back, i’ll be coming back to life.

vi. i know i left too much mess and destruction to come back again, and i caused nothing but trouble. i understand if you can’t talk to me again… and when we meet, which i’m sure we will, all that was there will be there still… i’m in love and always will be. // i’m forced to see you, but deep down i love it. so far away, but i still see you coming… you just never know, we might dance slow at somebody’s wedding that we used to know… you’re two rows behind me and it’s hard to not turn around. bringing up the past starts a real big fire. // somebody said you disappeared in a crowd. i didn’t understand then, i don’t understand now… i couldn’t see you coming so far, i just turn around and there you are. i’m so surprised you want to dance with me now. i was just getting used to living life without you around. // i miss you more than you even know. more than you probably care. more than i ever show to you, my dear… and how does it make you feel to hear me say that i wanna stand next to you for a while? // you find yourself at my door just like all those times before. you wear your best apology, but i was there to watch you leave… this is the last time i say it’s been you all along. this is the last time i let you in my door. this is the last time, i won’t hurt you anymore. this is the last time i’m asking you this. put my name at the top of your list. // i haven’t been by your side in a minute, but i think about it sometimes… you clinged to my body like you wanted it forever. what a time, what a time, what a time. // you still look like a movie, you still sound like a song. my god, this reminds me of when we were young… it’s hard to admit that everything just takes me back to when you were there. and a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn’t gone, 'cause i still care. do you still care? // i want to touch you but i’m too late. i want to touch you but there’s history… now when i see you, it’s so bittersweet. // i fell into your brown eyes, i told you i was your light. no, i don’t wanna talk about it, i don’t wanna listen all that much. i don’t wanna talk about it, i just wanna hold your hand. // i don’t wanna be over you if i can make you mine. i don’t wanna take closure now if i can fix tonight. i don’t know if we can work this out, but i’ve got to try… i just need you, i just need you.

vii. i can’t take it back, i can’t unpack the baggage you left... what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? i’m fallin’ again, i’m fallin’ again, i’m fallin’… what am i now? what am i now? what if you’re someone i just want around? // am i fading from your mind? has the distance blurred the lines? they say all things heal with time, but it’s untrue… you are the only one, you are the only one, don’t you know? // if you let my soul out, it will come right back to you. // i don’t mind if you cry with me. you’re my friend. i know times can get hard. oh, is it still you and i forever? c'mon, you’re close to me. c'mon, talk to me. // tell me you want it. a thousand miles away from the day that we started, but i’m standing here with you just tryna be honest. if honesty means telling you the truth - well, i’m still in love with you. // i needed you to stay, but i let you drift away. my love, where are you? whenever you’re ready, can we surrender? i surrender. no one will win this time. i just want you back. // there’s a fire in you that gets me all upset. and i’ll bring up the past while you try to touch my leg… please take me home, wrap me in a towel. the marks are all gone. i’m feeling myself again. // you’ve got a million reasons to hesitate. but darling, the future is better than yesterday… gave you a million reasons to walk away, but i’ll build a house out of the mess and all of the broken pieces. i’ll make up for all of your tears. i’ll give you the best years. // i ain’t got nothing left to give, nothing to lose… you are mine, i am yours. lets not fuck around. ‘cause you are the only one. // i want to kiss you like the first time, hold you like it’s not goodbye. wish i hadn’t been so cruel. i want to let all my defenses down, scream until you hear me out. i’ll lay it on the line for you… take me back, take me back. // we’re only young and naive still. we require certain skills. the mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins. the bittersweet between my teeth, trying to find the in-betweens. fall back in love eventually. // if my name never fell off your lips again, i know it’d be such a shame. when i take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing that i think i got right. i’d never give you away, 'cause i’ve already made that mistake. // after all this time, got nothing to lose. after all this time, see nothing but you… i know love has been unkind for the two of us… love can beat us black and blue, but darling, i’ll take the punches for you. // we made a start. be it a false one, i know. baby, i don't want to feel alone, so kiss me where i lay down. my hands press to your cheeks. a long way from the playground... all i can do is say that these arms were made for holding you. i wanna love like you made me feel when we were eighteen. // sunday night, i’m lying on your body with my legs locked 'round you like the safest kind of sorry i could give. 'cause i know i let you down before… i think about you on the train, love how you say my second name. it seems without you, i’m insane. now you’re asleep and i’m gonna say it anyway. i love you. // skies grew darker, currents swept you out again, and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone… this love is good, this love is bad, this love is alive back from the dead. these hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me. this love left a permanent mark. this love is glowing in the dark. these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me. // i know i let you down, but its not like that now. this time i’ll never let you go. i will be all that you want and get my self together, 'cause you keep me from falling apart. all my life, i’ll be with you forever.

#◦ ` ･ playlist #◦ ` ･ mine #◦ ` ･ more than fun ; you're the sanctuary #◦ ` ･ fall back in love eventually

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museswithinx · 5 years

Note

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” { Eric for Ronnie }

Stages of Relationships Starters

Having lost Eric somewhere in the crowd of guests, Ronnie pushes through the hoard in search of him. She had personally requested a set of slow songs from a playlist she had compiled over the course of their relationship to be played and she wanted to dance the rest of the evening away with him. Just the two of them together like no one else existed.

As she spots the back of a familiar head, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder. Smiling as he turns around, she takes his hands in hers and starts guiding him back the way she came. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come dance with me!”

Instead of pulling him onto the dance floor though like he was probably expecting, Ronnie leads him out back through a set of double doors. Outside there was a lovely garden, bathed in mood lighting, and a beautiful fountain in the middle of everything. The music from inside could still be heard clear as day. She quite liked this setting; it was perfect, like something straight out of a movie.

And as if right on cue, Dance With Me starts to play with perfect timing. It was the first song they had ever danced to. So filled with happiness from this rather enchanting evening, she takes one of his hands in hers and places the other along his shoulder; slowly starting to sway to the music with him.

A silence falls between them as they simply got lost in the moment. It was like getting to relive her eighteenth birthday all over again. They were back in those woods after their hiking adventure learning how to slow dance with each other.

Breathing a content little sigh at the memory, she gazes up at him adoringly. “What are you thinking?” she murmurs softly as he does a little dip with her.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ronnie had always known that was the future that lied ahead for them. They were soul mates, two halves of a whole, and they were a forever deal. Nothing had ever been more clear or certain to her. But hearing it still made her heart do that little leap that only he could cause. Everyday she was sure she fell more and more in love with this one boy.

“Oh, Eric,” she beams up at him as she presses a light kiss to his lips. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with than you. I want everything with you. A lifetime of passion, marriage, a home all our own, lots of kids, growing old. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. Everything.” No matter how many ups or downs were ahead of them, she wanted all of it with him.

“We’re forever, baby. There’s so many great things awaiting us, I just know it. I can’t wait to see and experience all of it with you.” Kissing him again, she tilts her head slightly to deepen it a little more. “I love you with all my heart, Eric McKay. And I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.”

#ofstrengthisms #( veronica hunter ; )#( something tells me we belong ; ronnie & eric )#stages of relationships meme #answered #//babiesssss i weeeeeep #they're so pure

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sunyoonandstars · 6 years

Text

✨Linked✨ || BTS Soulmate AU Series || You x !Soulmate! Yoongi || Part 23 | FINAL CHAPTER

Text/Social Media/Narrative Series || Soulmate & College AU

Previous Part | Next Part

LINKED MASTERLIST

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

― Plato, The Symposium

Credit goes to the incredible @789cream for creating this beautiful mood board for my series. Thank you so much, my love!

🎶 PLAYLIST 🎶

Pairing You x Soulmate! Yoongi

Word count 8.362

‘siblings’, according to age: Namjoon, Jimin, y/n, Taehyung (you grew up living in the same foster home as implied in earlier parts of this series)

angst, fluff

!WARNINGS! mentions of violence/injury, blood, hospitals, death, grief and funerals

A/N: Don’t let this scare you off, though. I promise, nothing is what it seems. You’re in for quite a few plot twists ...

Previously, on ‘Linked’…

Eventually, after years of successfully having avoided it, you have come across your soulmate. An ominous stranger of whom you know no more than the back of his head, his phone number and that he works as a part-time barista at your (former) favorite coffee shop.

Having been pressured by a friend into contacting him, things start to get complicated. Because your heart already belongs to another. And, haunted by the ghosts of your past, the last thing you want is for your soul to find its one, true, destined mate.

After texting back and forth for days with the man only known to you as your ‘Soulmate’, you are forced to break contact since he is starting to get too close and your boyfriend Jimin is anything but pleased with that. When your paths, however, cross, the ominous ‘Suga’, as he calls himself, refrains from revealing his true identity to you - which would mean an instant link of souls and the end of his torture - and, instead, is set on making his way into your life the right way.A fateful accident at your workplace is followed by a visit to the emergency room and a falling out with your boyfriend, Jimin, leading you to turn to a virtual stranger for comfort. A whole day you spend with the mysterious Suga who’s familiarity is an enigma to you. Until his true identity is revealed and things quickly turn sour, starting to snowball from then on, the events sending you into a rapid downward spiral. Until, by some twist of fate, your paths cross once more …

CHAPTER 23

"So, he basically proposed to you? In his kitchen? Out of nowhere?" Taehyung asks, for the second time already. He looks at you from across the table, his long fingers absentmindedly playing with the straw of his vanilla frappuccino. The drink is so cold, the cup keeps collecting drops of condensed water, sparkling like gemstones in the coffee shop's artificial lighting. You watch them make their way to the table top as you respond to your brother's inquiry without meeting his curious glance.

"Yes," you repeat your answer. "Yoon asked me to marry him."

"And you –?" He questioningly raises a brow.

"I freaked. I panicked. I literally ran away. I wasn't even wearing shoes. I still have blisters."

"Wow," Taehyung snickers. "I'm impressed, y/n. Your setting new standards. This is just a little over the top, even for yourself."

"I know," you whimper as you slide down in your seat and lean forward, placing your forehead on the table, your blushing face now hidden by a messy curtain of hair. "I'm mortified, Tae. How can I ever face him again?"

"I don't know. How long has it been since you last saw him?"

"Two days."

"Two days? And you haven't talked since, well, your highly dignified exit?"

"No. No word,“ you state, sitting back up again.

"And why did you say he proposed to you? Just like that?"

"It wasn't for no reason," you sigh as you sit back up. "He got a letter. From the Ministry of Family Planning. A Final Notice. Because he didn't finalize the Link. Which is basically my fault. But it seems they're holding him responsible for it. So, I don't know. We either have to link or get married or something. Which is why he proposed, sort of."

"Wow. Okay."

"What's that supposed to mean? I know that expression, Taehyung. You're judging me right now."

"Well, of course, I am. I mean, you're soulmates," he scoffs. "I really don't get what's so difficult about this, y/n. He's your soulmate, and his love for you goes even beyond the Link. I can tell. And you have feelings for him, too, obviously. And deep ones at that, I'd say. So, what more does it require for you to say 'Yes' and let things follow their natural flow?"

"If only things were that easy," you grumble, more to yourself, as you withdraw your hands into the sleeves of your sweater. Yoon's sweater, actually. His signature scent still inhabits the heavy fabric. You can feel your insides twist at the thought of him, the memory of his warmth, his embrace.

"Why must you always make things unnecessarily difficult for yourself?" Taehyung shakes his head in apparent frustration. "Why complicate this matter when it's actually so easy, the most natural thing of all? Just give in and link with him already. Go to him and do it, right now."

"I can't."

"What? That's bullshit."

"No. It's not, Tae. It's a fact. He wouldn't allow it. Yoon wants us to be real. A real couple, with real feelings. He wanted me to prove to him that I could do it without the Link. That I would still stay. And I got that. I respected that. And messed up. You know, part of me still hoped every single day for him to just tell me his full name and get it over with. Because I was scared, Tae. Really fucking scared. And now it's too late."

There it is again. That tremor in your voice and hands, the flutter of your heart. Merely thinking about Yoon and the drastic turn your last meeting took towards its end instills sheer terror into each and every fiber of your being. Taehyung must have noticed because one of his hands instinctively reaches out to cover yours, its warmness grounding, making it a little easier for you to breathe.

"Scared of what, y/n?" he asks, the sound of his deep voice, low and tender, a welcome distraction from the noise inside and around you.

You made the right choice in seeking out your brother, you now realize. Once more he proves to be the steady rock you learned to hold onto whenever the storm within threatened to overwhelm you. Your bastion of calm. A kindred soul wise beyond its age. Taehyung understands. He always does. Because the two of you aren't all that different. Now you see that you were wrong to have avoided him for these past few days. Taehyung wouldn't have judged you. He never does. Does he?

"You can tell me, y/n. What were you so afraid of if it wasn't the Link itself?"

“I was scared of the way he makes me feel, Tae,“ you eventually admit.

"Of growing too attached, too dependent. Too fond of him. Of being hurt. Of being left. Of being without him," you barely manage to croak out, struggling to blink back tears. "You know, Yoon makes me feel whole. He makes it so easy for me to let loose, to actually be myself around him, around other people. He makes me feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. And he makes me forget the pain, the sadness, my fears. When I'm with him. But the second I'm not, it all comes crashing down on me, and I get scared. What if he leaves me? For good? What if things don't work out in the end? Or if he, you know – Like my dad. If he –"

"Dies?"

"Yes. What the hell am I supposed to do then? How will I live? Once I let him in for good, once he's in there –" You point to your heart. "How will I survive and who will I be after he's gone?"

"I don't know. Nobody ever does."

"Right. And it's fucking scary."

"Of course it is." Taehyung's calloused thumb keeps on rubbing the back of your hand while he talks, his expression serious. "But ... Have you told him all this? Have you told Yoon about the way you feel for him? About your fears? Because, knowing you, I have a feeling you didn't."

"Of course I didn't."

"See, that's your first mistake. If you feel like that about a person, you need to tell them, y/n. Communication is key. You could be feeling a hell of a lot better right now if you had talked things over with him instead of me. And instead of just, you know, running, like you always do."

"Yeah, I know I screwed up, okay?" You pull back your hand to playfully punch Taehyung in the ribs. "It just happened so quickly. All I heard were the words 'Marriage' and 'Link' and 'Children' and I freaked. Hell, I don't even know if I want children yet. After what happened with my parents – I don't know if I could risk putting my child through something similar."

With a defeated groan, you let your head drop back down to the tabletop, tearing at your hair until Taehyung gently stops you by taking your hands into his own.

"But aren't those the thoughts and doubts we all have to face when considering to build a family?" he asks, the sound of his voice almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths.

"Yeah. I guess," you sigh as you sit back up, provisionally fixing your disheveled hair as good as you can without a mirror in sight. "But Yoon's words just flipped a switch inside of me, Tae. Like, I literally panicked. I couldn't breathe, and then those nasty things just came pouring from my lips, and I don't even remember exactly what I said. It was like an out-of-body experience. I watched myself break his heart, and I couldn't even do anything about it. It was as if my protective instincts just entirely took over. I felt like a cornered deer or something. Trapped, blindsided. Like my whole world was being turned upside down, and I couldn't stop falling. Like, seriously, Tae. What did he expect me to say? Yes!?" You scoff, feeling your heart rate quicken again as you relive those agonizing minutes spent in Yoon's kitchen. "One second, we barely make it as a couple, and the next he asks me to spend the rest of my life with him?"

"Well, would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Spend the rest of your life with him? Can you see yourself doing that?"

"I – I don't know."

"You must know, deep down."

"I – I guess so. I mean. Yes. If I would have to spend the rest of my life with one single person, it would definitely be Yoon. That's for sure."

"Well, you better tell him that, y/n. Right now. Like, literally. Right this second."

You don't like your brother's tone. For some reason, it sends an icy shiver down your spine.

"Why? You sound pretty urgent, Tae. What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Y/n, I don't know if it is my place to tell you, but I'm afraid Yoon lied to you. Or at least he kept part of the truth to himself."

Taehyung flinches as your grip on his hands tightens.

"What the hell are you talking about, Tae? What did he keep from me?"

"Well." He inhales deeply as if he is bracing himself for a punch to the gut.

"Actually, there are not two, but three options the Ministry leaves people like him with. One, establish the Link no matter what or how. Two, get married first and ease, but still finalize the Link later, within a year. Or three." He pauses, holding your gaze, the look in his eyes frighteningly grave. "Get 'treated'. Meaning, Yoon will have to see a 'specialist' at the Ministry who will give him some kind of serum that will lead to a change in his DNA. He will no longer be linked to you but will be assigned a new Soulmate matching his DNA and the required criteria. The people at the Ministry will then proceed to erase his memory of you so he can have the life he was designated to live, based on his genetic code and his predetermined role in society."

"Wait. You're kidding me, right? They can't possibly do that."

"Yes, they can. And I know that for a fact. Nana works for the Ministry, you know. She tells me about these things sometimes. Heartbreaking stories."

"You're bullshitting me right now, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not, y/n." Taehyung slowly shakes his head, his expression unchanged. "It's true. And it's been done a lot of times. Did wonders for the suicide rate. It dropped by seventy percent ever since they legalized Erasure."

"How did I not know about this?" You can feel your throat grow tighter by the second.

"I guess this is knowledge parents are supposed to pass on to their children. Since you grew up in foster homes, this kind of information most likely got lost along the way in your case."

"Why don't they teach this in school?"

"They do. But I changed schools a lot before the Kim family took me in. You did, too, right? You were moved around a lot. So, you probably missed it."

"Shit. You're right. But Yoon must have known."

"I'm sure he did. And most likely assumed you know, too – or was hoping you didn't. One of the two."

"Fuck."

"And as far as I know, he must have already informed the Ministry of his decision. To abandon the Link. Because the party having received the Final Notice is usually required to report back to the Ministry within 48 hours. And keep the next possible appointment for Erasure. Which would be the first Wednesday of every month. Which would be –" A gasp escapes Taehyung's parted lips with one look at his wristwatch. "– today."

"Shit," you soundlessly breathe, sensing a numbing cold take hold of your limbs.

"The Ministry opens at nine in the morning. Now it's half past nine, so, Yoon's either on his way there or already inside, waiting for his number to be called. Maybe you can make it there in time if you run. It's not far. Just, like, fifteen minutes walking distance," you can hear Taehyung talk through the steadily thickening fog that threatens to smother you.

"Y/n? Can you hear me? You will have to hurry because the procedure is being performed on the subjects at minute intervals, for efficiency reasons. There's not a lot of talking involved, and he will already have filled out all the documents beforehand. Meaning, you should go. Now."

"Subjects? Efficiency?" you sneer, tears clouding your vision as you pull your hand from Taehyung's grasp. "What kind of fucked up world do we live in? We're talking about people here, Taehyung, about lives. How can Nana work for this government?"

"Y/n, calm down."

"The hell I won't!" you cry out, rising from your seat so abruptly, your chair falls to the ground with an ear-splitting bang. Heads are turning now, but you couldn't care less. "They can't do that! They can't just erase me like that. They –"

"Y/n," Taehyung continues in slowly getting up, his tone placating and one slender hand reaching out in a reassuring manner. "Please, calm down. You're making a scene."

"Of course I am. Because this is wrong. And everybody should know that. It's just wrong. They can't take that away from him. From us. Nobody has the right to just erase feelings, to erase a whole person from somebody's mind."

"You brought this on yourself, y/n. I'm not saying the government is right. I'm not saying they should handle these matters the way they do. But, think hard. Weren't you the one who kept pushing Yoon out of your life? Didn't you wish you had never met him?"

"That was ages ago, Tae. So much has changed since then. I love him. I fucking love him more than anything, okay!?"

"Exactly," Taehyung now smiles to your great confusion. "Exactly, y/n. That's what I wanted to hear. You love him. You really do. And he loves you. But that's the problem. That's what put you on the government's radar in the first place." He lowers his voice. "People like you and Yoon, you're deviations. You're dangerous. So, of course, they'd keep a close eye on you. And they will definitely see to it that Yoon gets paired up nicely with some dull little girl who will be a reliable housewife and give him a handsome child. And, soon, – give it a few days – you will find a letter in your mail, too, y/n. That's what they do. They fix you. The government. They fix people like you. They realize they've made a mistake in Linking you and Yoon, and now they wanna reverse it. Because the two of you are proof that the system is flawed. That love can't be controlled. And you should take pride in that. I sure as hell hope none of their spies are listening in right now, but I say screw them. Go show those people that you don't give a fuck about their rules. Break them. Break the system. Go get your man."

You're out the door before Taehyung gets to finish his sentence.

Sports were never your strong suit, running least of all. Nonetheless, you sprint down the street as if you were running for your life. Storefronts and faces keep rushing past you, and all you can hear is the sound your own heavy breathing combined with your rapidly pounding heartbeat.

You can't be late. You simply can't be.

This can't be it. You refuse to believe that.

No. You're going to be on time. You will be on time. And no one can stop you now. Not even your cowardly yourself.

Panting, your burning lungs desperately longing for air, you stop at a red traffic light, so eager to keep moving, the Ministry already in sight, that you almost consider crossing the broad main street despite the raging rush hour traffic. You can feel your blood burn through its vessels, urging you to go to him, to go to Yoon. To tell him that you want him to be yours for life. When the light finally turns green, your legs can't seem to carry you fast enough. Just about two hundred more yards separate you from the crowded plaza in front of the ministry building that towers over the surrounding boulevards like a fortress made entirely of white marble. The golden morning sun bouncing off its ivory walls and polished windows is blinding you, giving this architectural atrocity an air of divine superiority and innocence. What a shameless lie.

Struggling for breath, you come to a full stop in the middle of the plaza, searching the surge of people swarming to the building's pompous entryway for a familiar face. But you can't spot Yoon anywhere. Your heart already starts dropping, the fear that you are too late after all, that he is already inside and you lost him for good, weighing on it like a boulder when your eyes eventually meet his. For a few seconds, you forget how to breathe, how to exist, and time itself seems to come to a halt.

No way.

But it really is him. And Yoon stops cold in his step, staring at you in utter disbelief, his incredulous expression a reflection of your own.

People keep moving on around you like a ceaseless stream, but none of them matter. Nothing matters but him. Yoon. Your soulmate. Right there, mere steps away. In your reach.

Everything is going to be okay.

You will be with him.

The hint of a smile begins tugging at the corner of Yoon's mouth as he turns toward you, taking a first step in your direction.

You can't believe it. You made it. You actually made it.

This moment seems almost too good to be true. And in horror, you realize that it is indeed. Too good to be true.

Too late, you recognize the imminent danger, notice the truck advancing at full speed out of the corner of your eye.

The vehicle plows into the throng of people without slowing down, the sound of the crash being followed by an ear-splitting explosion and screams of pain and terror tearing through the brisk morning. The blast wave sends you staggering to the ground. For a split second, you black out. When you regain consciousness, you are surrounded by chaos.

Names are being called. Lifeless bodies are lying on top of each other, faces distorted by agony.

Almost nobody was left standing. The entire plaza is covered with future corpses.

And Yoon has disappeared.

It takes you a few seconds to break free from your paralysis. Eventually, you regain limited control over your limbs and can see yourself moving towards the spot where you last saw Yoon. The hollow ringing, caused by the explosion, does not leave your ears. It nearly drowns out the shouts for help and outcries of agony coming from all directions.

Blood. And so much of it.

Blood is everywhere. People, thrown on top of each other like broken dolls, their arms and legs bent in unnatural angles. A sudden surge of overwhelming nausea forces you to your knees.

Pain. So much pain. Death all around you.

Why? How? What happened?

Your brain can't process the images your eyes absorb, gruesome scenes that burn themselves into your mind for life.

You don't think, you act. Almost automatically, you keep scanning the square for Yoon, his face, his hair, the shirt he wore. Anything you might be able to recognize him by.

Stranger's hands are grabbing at your legs. The injured keep begging for your help, and it troubles you to leave them behind, but you have to know. If the searing pain on the inside of your wrist and the vague, harrowing sensation taking up your chest mean what you think they do. That Yoon is still breathing, fighting for his life, out there somewhere in this horrible mess.

"Yoon!" you call out his name, again and again, until your throat is sore.

Tears start clouding your vision, turning everything into a bloody blur.

You keep stumbling, falling over lifeless bodies. The sickly sweet, metallic stench of death rises to your nose, sending you staggering, vertigo almost overpowering your will to keep going.

No. No. This isn't right. Yoon can't be dead. He can't be. He isn't. You have to keep moving. You have to find him.

And eventually, you do.

An outcry of relief breaking free from your painfully constricted chest, you drop to your knees next to him who is struggling to move out from under a dismembered corpse.

"You're alive," you sob, carefully pushing the dead body off Yoon's legs. His plaid shirt is drenched in thick, red blood. Not his, you hope, no, pray.

"Barely," he coughs, cherry-colored liquid dropping from his pale lips.

No. No. No.

"Don't move," you urge him, scooting closer so you can carefully place his head in your lap. "You shouldn't speak. We don't know where exactly you're injured."

You try hard to hold back the tears, to be strong for Yoon, calm. But the sight of him makes it almost impossible for you to do so.

His beautiful face is covered in scratches and bruises. A horrendous gash stretches across his pallid forehead, just beneath the hairline, and his left arm seems to be broken, his hand already having turned an unsightly blue.

Now that he rests in your embrace, Yoon's trembling body seems to relax at least a little, easing into your arms. Lips pressed together to hold in another sob, you watch his eyelids flutter shut.

"Yoon? Stay awake, will you?"

He hums in response.

"Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"Well, here ... for ... starters," he scoffs, using his right hand to point to his left side. Only now do you notice the piece of metal penetrating his body, right where his left lung must be situated.

"Don't look, y/n. I did and I ... almost ... puked."

"I said no talking, idiot," you hiss, gently pressing down on the wound around the piece of what could once have been a piece of the nearby steps' banister in an effort to keep his lifeblood from seeping out. You don't know how much more Yoon can afford to lose in his weakened state. Judging by the color of his skin, not much.

He needs to get to a hospital. Now.

Every second passing seems to stretch into an hour as you strain your ears hoping to pick up the sound of approaching sirens. But nothing. Not yet.

Hurry, you silently pray.

"You ... asked," Yoon coughs, a worrying wheeziness to his voice.

"And you answered. Now, shush."

It's so warm. The blood. His blood. Running through your fingers and with it valuable minutes of his life, one after the other. And there's nothing you can do but wait. Wait and hope.

"Why ... are you here, y/n?"

Yoon struggles to open his eyes, his face white as a sheet at this point. His question comes unexpectedly. For a few seconds, you simply stare at him, mouth agape, petrified, as he patiently awaits your reply, looking up at you out of glassy eyes.

"Well," you stammer, struggling to regain your composure. "To tell you. That I love you."

His eyes grow slightly wider.

"It's –"

"Yeah, I know. This is the first time I actually said it," you cut him off.

"Happy now?" you snivel, a first tear breaking your rigorously maintained barriers. "You know, I thought I would just call you in a few days, and we could maybe talk everything over, find common ground. I didn't know this would happen."

Yoon takes a shaky breath. You can feel his body shiver in your grasp.

"Well, we don't ... always ... get second chances."

"Shush. Shut your mouth. You're bleeding. I said no more talking."

You can tell he has a snappy comeback ready for you on the tip of his tongue, but fatigue seems to get the better of him before it gets a chance to leave his lips. Instead, he coughs up blood again. A sight that lets your heart skip a beat and sends an icy shiver down your spine.

No. No. No. This can't be happening. He's gonna make it. He has to.

"Damn. I didn't picture our next meeting like this, you know. Not at all," you start talking, fear loosening your tongue, leading the words to gush out against your will, without rhyme or reason, while hot tears stream down your cheeks. "This, this is fucked up. This can't be happening. It shouldn't. This is not how it was supposed to go. You're innocent. You – You never did anything wrong. This is all my fault. I'm the one who should be lying here."

"Don't … say that," Yoon frowns, his voice barely a whisper.

Finally, you can hear sirens closing in.

"But I mean it, Yoon. If I could, I'd take your place. But I can't, and it's killing me." You are cut short by a wave of violent sobs. "I'm – I'm sorry, Yoon. So sorry. Jeez, when is this fucking ambulance gonna get here?"

Unable to withstand Yoon's scrutinizing glance, you take a look around, pretending to search the scene for any signs of paramedics before your eyes eventually find his again.

"Stop it. None of this ... is ... your fault ... y/n. You ... didn't drive that truck ... did you?"

"No," you laugh through tears. "Of course not."

"See?" Just the hint of a smug smile now curves Yoon's pale lips that are covered with a film of dark red blood. His eyes stay closed. Not a good sign.

"I can't believe you," you shake your head. "How are you smiling right now?"

"Because ... I made you ... laugh."

"You're unbelievable. Seriously." You can hear the first ambulance arrive, car doors being slammed shut, steps approaching, tense voices shouting instructions. The police are at the scene just seconds after. It's just a matter of time now before help will be here. And before they take Yoon away from you, you realize, a thought that fills you with utter dread.

What if you never get to see him again? What if this is it?

"Yoon, help is gonna be here any moment now. But before the paramedics get here –– Please, tell me your name."

"No. Let's not ... do this ... right now," he frowns, not opening his eyes.

"But we may not get another chance. And I don't care if you die or not. Which you won't, obviously. I want it. The Link. Now," you insist. "Please, Yoon. I want my soul to be bound to yours eternally. No, I don't just want it to be. I need it to be. One with yours. Yoon, I really do. I'm not just saying this, I swear."

"But that ... would be ... cruel," he whispers, his voice barely audible, dark brows drawn together.

"I don't care. I know what I'm getting into. I said I want it and I do. Please, Yoon. This is my decision. Tell me your name," you beg, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Slowly, Yoon opens his eyes, obviously struggling to keep them open as his gaze locks with yours.

"I ... could never ... do that to you."

"You aren't," you assure him, placing one hand on Yoon's cold cheek. It feels unfamiliar to your touch. Not warm and comforting, but delicate. You can literally watch the life drain from his papery skin. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful. So beautiful it hurts. A fallen angel, gradually fading.

"You aren't doing anything to me, Yoon. This is my choice. And I already know that I love you. I love you more than anything. And, whatever happens, I will always love you. All my life, I was so fucking scared I would never be able to say this with confidence. To say this and actually mean it. But I can now."

You pause, inhaling deeply to catch your breath.

"I know I'm a little late. And I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it. But I love you, Yoon." Smiling, you look down at him through a blur of tears. "And it would be my honor to spend the rest of my life by your side. As your Soulmate."

One last, gleaming smile lights up Yoon's features that are so unbelievably graceful even in their current state before his eyes shut and his head falls back –– just when his lips were about to part and, lastly, carry his full name to your ears. You can feel his body go limp in your hold.

No.

"No. No. Yoon! Yoon? Can you hear me? Can you –"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but we're gonna have to take your friend with us, now," a medic explains as he gently pushes you aside, two more of them cautiously lifting an unconscious Yoon onto a stretcher.

"No pulse," one of them comments after checking Yoon's vitals.

Everything past this point is a blur.

It feels as if you were pushed into cold water, freezing over and trapping you underneath a massive layer of ice, helpless, drowning. Numb.

You can't even remember how you got here as you anxiously pace the grey linoleum floor of some hospital's colorless corridor. Your heart is racing and so is your mind.

Yoon. He is all you can think about.

They have been operating on him for hours now. How many, you can't say. Too many, that's for sure.

"Y/n, please sit down for a bit and have some water." Gently, Namjoon grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your manic wandering to a sudden end. "You need to rest."

"No!"

Of course, your feeble attempts at resistance are in vain. You never stood a chance against Namjoon. Not even back when you were still kids, squabbling with one another for kicks and giggles. But this, this is different. Right this instant, Namjoon's steady grasp is the only thing standing between you and literal, physical collapse, and you are infinitely grateful for his soothing presence.

Almost willingly, you allow him to guide you to a row of chairs and place you in the seat next to Taehyung's. Without lifting his gaze from his worn out black Converses, Taehyung pulls you close and puts your head on his shoulder, resting his own against your forehead.

"He'll be all right," he then whispers, his voice unwavering, bearing no trace of doubt. "I know he will."

"Here." Namjoon has a sad try at a smile as he offers you a paper cup filled to the brim with water. "I can get you more if you'd like."

"No, thanks. I think I'm good for now," you say after emptying it in one gulp, fighting the urge to throw it all up again.

"Do you want something to eat?" Seokjin asks, leaning over from his seat. "I could get you a sandwich."

"No, thanks."

You struggle to hold in tears, burning in your eyes like acid.

"Give her a break," Taehyung growls. "She isn't hungry, okay? Her soulmate is lying on the operation table right now, fighting for his life. Jesus."

You want to thank him but can't seem to find your voice.

"Sorry," Namjoon and Seokjin apologize. You merely manage a nod of your head in response.

"What's going on? Who's dying?" a breathless Jungkook comes to a slithering hold before you, panting heavily, beads of sweat coating his face.

"No one," Taehyung answers in your stead.

"What?" Jungkook frowns. "I thought –"

"Y/n's soulmate is currently being operated on," Namjoon calmly explains.

"Oh. Oh. I'm – I'm so sorry, y/n."

You can only imagine that Taehyung must have darted a deadly glance at him because Jungkook suddenly falls quiet and takes a seat next to him.

"– the Ministry of Family Planning where a gruesome terrorist attack took place just this morning," you can hear some news anchor's voice coming from the waiting room's television. Involuntarily, you lift your head and crane your neck to get a better look at the screen. You flinch as pictures of the crime scene appear, stirring up memories of death and destruction you wish you didn't have to live with.

"Could you turn that off, please? Or switch to another channel?"

Namjoon tries to keep his voice low as he bends over the counter and talks insistently to the nurse sitting behind the close-by reception desk, urging her to change the program, a plea she seems unwilling to succumb to.

"Please. My sister was there today, at the scene. And I'm sure being forced to relive her trauma won't make her feel any better."

"I'm sorry, young man," she responds in a tone that brooks no dissent. "But I'm afraid this is the only channel we get. And, quite frankly, operating the waiting room television does not fall within my jurisdiction. Besides, I have far more important matters to attend to. So, if you would please return to your seat, Sir. There's nothing I can do for you."

All the while, Namjoon keeps peeking over his shoulder, checking on you, his expression apologetic. As if all of this was somehow his fault. But none of it is. Because it's all on you.

The hours drag on like molasses. You can still smell Yoon's blood on your clothes, the smoke in your hair.

"Did you get your head checked on?"

Taehyung's question barely makes it through the dense haze of dull pain clouding your mind. It feels as if his voice reaches you in a dream, but you're not sleeping.

"What?"

"Your head, y/n," he repeats, looking at you with concern. "Did you have it examined?"

"What? Why?"

"Because you have a nasty bruise right there," he points at your temple, his fingers hovering over your skin, reluctant to touch it. "It looks serious. Maybe you should have one of the doctors check it out."

"No. No need. It's nothing. I barely have a headache. Plus, there's no time. There are so many people here who need help far more urgently than me. You should have seen them. The bodies. The –" Your thoughts get lost in the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears. You can feel a suffocating lump form in your throat, making it harder for you to breathe by the second.

"Yoon," you jump to your feet, the thought of him sending a fresh surge of adrenaline through your bloodstream. "Yoon. I need to see him. I need to know if he is still alive."

"Shush, it's okay, y/n." Taehyung gets up to pull you in for a close hug, firmly keeping you in place and from running off towards the operating room once again. "It's all right. Yoon's gonna be fine. He's gonna be just fine."

Somehow, your brother's words have lost their power, no more achieving their reassuring purpose.

Nonetheless, you give in and allow Taehyung to push you back down into your uncomfortable chair, your body, drained of all energy, none of it left in you to fight anymore, remaining in a state of absolute petrification whereas your thoughts keep racing, chasing themselves in an attempt to escape the undeniable truth.

That you might have lost him. For good this time.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER ...

Quietly, you run your hands across the straightened linens of the empty hospital bed.

You still can’t believe it, can’t seem to be able to wrap your mind around the happenings of the past few months. Just contemplating the course of events brings tears to your eyes once more. You're surprised there are even any left in your organism after all the hours you spent sobbing by Yoon's bedside.

Days and nights you spent in this cold, dull hospital room, your only company the never-fading smell of disinfectant and Yoon's unconscious body, bathed in the pale glow of LED lamps. Back then, you kept thinking what you wouldn't give to look into his deep, dark eyes once more, what you wouldn't give for them to open again by some miracle. But they remained closed.

"Do you think I was right? To ask the doctors not to tell me?" you wonder aloud, recognizing your brother's presence in the room without even looking.

"I don't know." Namjoon steps up to you from behind, putting his arm around your shoulder with a long sigh. "You tell me, y/n."

For a few seconds, you fall silent, your hands now tightly clutching the fabric of Yoon's plaid shirt. The one he was wearing on the day of the attack. You washed it a dozen times, but the bloodstains still wouldn't quite come off.

"Yes," you then nod with newly found confidence. "Yes. I made the right choice. I'm sure. And I'm glad I stuck with it. It wasn't the doctors' place to tell me Yoon's name. Thanks for always being there and making sure they didn't, helping me through the whole process. I don't know what I would've done without you, Joonie."

"Hey, hey, don't cry just yet." He gently brushes a stray tear off your cheek with the calloused tip of his thumb. Just like old times. Always the big brother. "Save your tears for later."

"I'll try."

"Good. Because we need to leave. Now. Or you'll be late for the ceremony."

Namjoon pauses, waiting for your reaction.

"Y/n? Are you ready?"

Forcing a smile, you take a deep breath and straighten your back before you turn around to face your brother, struggling to keep your eyes from welling up again.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

"No, you're not," you can hear Taehyung's voice coming from the hallway.

"No, I'm not."

"But you can do it, y/n." With a warm smile, Namjoon takes hold of your hand. "I know you can. And you will. You knew this day would come. And I can understand that you're scared. But you'll feel so much better once you went through with it."

"God, will you stop, Namjoon!?“, Taehyung rolls his eyes, linking arms with you, both of your brothers now guiding you outside and down the corridor, away from the memories. "You make it sound so horrible. No wonder she's scared.“

Taehyung indignantly shakes his head.

"Y/n, I can promise you, this is gonna be a life-changing experience," he now addresses you directly, his expression solemn but his tone sarcastic. "You'll see. You'll come out of that chapel a different woman. And after all these months, you will finally get the closure you deserve. Today, you start your new life."

"Shut up," you hiss through gritted teeth, smiling at a doctor who gives you a puzzled once-over in passing before you go on to kick Taehyung in the shin. "Both of you. You're only making things worse."

"Sorry," both of them grumble in unison. As you shift in his hold, you can feel Namjoon flinch, presumably scared of being the next one to receive a kick as punishment.

"Sorry," you lower your voice to a whisper when the tree of you come to a full stop before the hospital chapel's double door. "Sorry, I'm so irritable. I'm just –"

"Nervous," Namjoon finishes your sentence. "It's okay. We get it. That's why we're here."

"To make sure you don't run away," Taehyung teases.

"You really want me to kick you again?"

"No, thanks."

"Jesus," Seokjin's voice cuts through your whispery bickering. "Can't you guys stop squabbling for even one second? Not even on a day such as today?"

With a condescending shake of his head, he busies himself with fixing Namjoon's bow-tie.

"You look dashing," he smiles at his husband, quickly leaning in for a peck on the lips Namjoon happily gives.

"Yeah, yeah. But can we move on now?" Taehyung whines. "I've had, like, three sodas earlier. If we don't go right now, I'm gonna have to leave for the men's room."

"You're such a baby," Seokjin scoffs but takes a step aside, clearing the path for you and your brothers to finally enter the oratory.

"You ready?" he locks eyes with you, waiting for your signal.

"Yes," you nod your head, tightening your hold on your brothers' arms.

"Okay. Three, two," Seokjin starts dramatically counting down as he reaches out to pull open the tall doors leading to the chapel. "One. And go."

For a second, you freeze as the ceremonious music reaches your ears and you notice the first heads turning, familiar eyes watching you intently as you start to make your way down the aisle.

At first, you don't dare to lift your gaze off the floor under your feet, afraid the sight of him would lead you to break down in tears.

The sight of Yoon.

Waiting for you by the altar.

At this moment, you can't help but remember all the times when you sat by his side, considering your options, wondering whether you would be able to go through with an open-casket funeral. Back then, you never thought it would really come to this.

Lastly, you come to a halt before him.

With one last squeeze, Taehyung reluctantly lets go of your arm while Namjoon remains by your side. And you're glad he does, because your knees feel as if they were turning to water when the pastor now begins to speak, his rich voice echoing through the silent chapel.

"Thank you to the friends and family that are here today to celebrate this union."

Hesitantly, you let your glance wander upwards to meet Yoon's. His eyes are smiling.

"This occasion not only marks the beginning of their marriage commitment together, but it is a commemoration of the love nurtured and shared between these two. Together, they embark today on a new life together, built on the foundations of trust, compassion, mutual respect and a bond of souls that is never to be broken."

'Hey there,' you soundlessly form with your lips, barely resisting the urge to lean down and kiss Yoon right then and there. He looks unbelievably handsome in his black tuxedo.

'You look stunning,' Yoon soundlessly whispers in response, obviously in awe of your floor-length white dress.

"Who gives this bride today?" the minister asks.

"I do," Namjoon answers with pride before he, too, steps aside.

"If there is anyone in attendance who has cause to believe that this couple should not be joined in marriage, you may speak now or forever hold your peace."

All the gathered guests seem to hold their breath simultaneously while knowing eyes start searching the crowd for one particular face. You can't help but let out a short laugh when your eyes find Jimin who is looking around in bewilderment.

"Did you guys really think I would –?" he gasps, half laughing, pretending to be offended.

"No," you grin. "Of course not."

You give Jimin, who's fingers are intertwined with those of his beautiful girlfriend of four months, an apologetic wink before you swiftly bow to the pastor.

"I'm sorry. You may proceed."

He acknowledges your words with a forbearing nod of his grayed head and continues to speak.

"Marriage is an ancient human tradition. The personal and social merits that accompany the bonds of marriage have led to its continued endurance and have paved the way for us to be standing here before the Universe celebrating the union between these two people today that, by far, exceeds the nature of the mere Link."

From the corner of your eye, you can tell Yoon is watching you fondly.

"Marriage is, truly, a magical gift. As Mark Twain noted, 'Marriage makes of two fractional lives a whole, and it gives to two purposeless lives a work, it gives to two questioning natures a reason for living, and something to live for; it will give a new gladness to the sunshine, a new fragrance to the flowers, a new beauty to the earth, a new mystery to life.'"

The minister pauses.

Through a blur of tears, you look over at Yoon, sitting next to you in a wheelchair, his face gleaming with joy.

"At this time, before proceeding with the bonding ceremony, I would invite the couple to share their vows. Y/n, would you please deliver yours first?"

"Of course." You clear your throat and turn to face Yoon now.

“Today, I take you as my husband," you begin after a few seconds of absolute silence. As you go on, you barely manage to keep your voice steady.

"Quite frankly, I had lost faith that this moment would ever come. That we would stand here, together. But during these past few months, I prayed every single day that I would meet you again. Here, exactly like this, at the altar, witnessed by all the people we love. Because I love you, Yoon. I love you now as I've always loved you, and as I always will love you."

Yoon remains quiet. But you can tell by merely looking at him that your words mean more to him than he could ever say.

"And now Yoon, would you deliver your vows?"

"Gladly." The corners of his mouth quirk up almost imperceptibly. "I'm not a big fan of talking in front of people, so I'm gonna keep this short. Sorry."

He quickly looks around the room before his eyes lock with yours again.

"Y/n, today I take you as my wife, and there's honestly no one else I could imagine spending my life with. I love you now as I've loved you from the first time I saw you in that bar – and as I will love you till the day I die. Not to be dramatic. But it's true."

A murmur of hushed giggles goes through the crowd.

"Honest words," the minister remarks, apparently pleased.

"Y/n and Yoon, please join hands," he then demands. And you gladly comply, offering your assistance as Yoon tries to stand up, his legs still weakened from the months spent in a hospital bed.

"Y/n," the minister resumes. "Do you take Yoon as your cherished husband, in front of these witnesses, and promise to stay by his side through sickness and health, joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," you reply without even a hint of hesitation.

"Yoon, will you take Y/n as your cherished wife, in front of these witnesses, and promise to stay by her side through sickness and health, joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"The rings?" the minister arches a brow.

"Oh. Oh. Of course," Taehyung mumbles, a fierce blush tinting his cheeks while he frantically searches the pockets of his vintage suit jacket. "Wait a second." The tension is palpable.

"Here you go," he grins sheepishly.

Smiling, you roll your eyes as you take the rings from him, handing one of them to Yoon whose glance never once left you all this time.

"The wedding rings perfectly symbolize the never-ending love you two have for each other," the minister explains. "By exchanging these rings, you solidify a lifelong commitment to one another. The rings serve as a welcome and constant reminder of the bond you've formed with your partner. Please repeat after me."

He halts, his gaze fixed on you.

"I, Y/n, give you, Yoon this ring as a symbol of my enduring love. Just as the circle of the ring completes itself, so you complete me."

You repeat the words as you put the ring on Yoon's finger, your hands shaking so violently you almost fail even at the second attempt.

"Now it's your turn," the pastor turns to Yoon. "Repeat after me: I, Yoon, give you, Y/N this ring as a symbol of my enduring love. Just as the circle of the ring completes itself, so you complete me."

You can feel your throat close up when you listen to Yoon speaking those words with such sincerity and faith, you are sure you have never heard anything more beautiful in your life. Effortlessly, he slides the silver ring onto your finger.

"Y/n and Yoon, by the power vested in me by the Church and the Republic of Korea, I am pleased to pronounce you husband and wife, sealed together today both in law and in love."

The minister gives you a cordial smile.

"Yoon, you may now kiss the bride!"

And he does. You need to remind yourself that you're inside a church when Yoon's lips meet yours and have trouble detaching yourself from him when the minister demonstratively clears his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he solemnly announces, shaking his head with a grin. "I now have the privilege of presenting, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. –"

He stops, with a brisk nod indicating to Yoon that he is to continue.

"Mr. and Mrs.," Yoon takes over, your hand still resting in his, his onyx eyes locked with yours and his voice bearing no trace of uncertainty as he finally speaks his name, stretching out every syllable.

"Min Yoongi."

Almost instantly, you can feel a pleasantly warm surge of energy run through your entire being, originating from the point where both your palms are joined and shooting through your left wrist and arm until it reaches your heart. Yoon's grip on your hand tightens when you gasp for air, taken aback by the intensity of the experience.

You break eye contact with him only to take a peek at the inside of your wrist and discover Yoon's full name written on your skin in simple yet elegant letters.

When you look back up again, it's as if you see Yoon for the very first time, through a fresh set of eyes, his image brighter, clearer than ever before and his beauty all the more evident.

Your feelings for him, however, remain the same.

Nothing has changed even though everything is different.

And suddenly, you’re not afraid anymore.

Because you are whole now.

T H E E N D

A/N: Guys. I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I created this. 😭 This story took me places I never thought it would, it helped me grow and heal and brought me closer to you. 🤧 I never thought this series would become so meaningful to me. But it did. And I’m grateful I got to write and share it with you guys. 😌💖

[God, I’m so emotional right now.]

Thank you for reading! Thank you so much for staying with this series until the end, for your support, encouragement and lovely feedback. 💖 It means the world to me. 💖💖 I hope you enjoyed ‘Linked’ and that this, its final chapter, didn’t disappoint. 😌

Love, Ana 💖

Here you can find my Masterlist in case you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction.

Also, if you have Spotify, you can listen to the ‘official’ 🎶 playlist 🎶 to the ‘Linked’ series here. It contains all the songs having been sent back and forth between Yoongi and the reader in the past and some more tunes fitting the series’ vibe.

Take care and have a great day! ☺️💖

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