#all like 15 seconds of him touching snow

[daughterofsarenrae]

Doesn't LIKE the snow. Hates it!!!! Cold and wet!!!!!!!!

[a-little-unsteddie]

cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect

Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.

And then some for crying at all.

Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.

Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.

He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.

Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.

Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.

Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.

“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.

He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.

Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.

Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.

“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.

Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.

Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”

And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.

Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.

At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.

And he follows through. With everything.

And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.

Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”

The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.

Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”

“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”

And it sounds like a promise.

[od4saku]

Geto Suguru falls in love for the first time at 15.

He doesn’t know how he’s never seen you before— by the first time he sees you, he’s already halfway through his first year at Tokyo’s Prefectural Jujutsu high school. You’re a second year, and so, so cool. All loud laughter and confidence, sharp smiles and intelligence— he can’t help but admire you.

He likes to think that his status as a special grade sorcerer can separate him from being a cringey teenaged boy with a disastrous crush. In hindsight, it may have just made it worse. His attempts to impress you, constant and perpetual, never went quite right. Ever the gentleman, Geto would do all the chivalrous things. He would open doors for you, and then get hit in the face by them. He’d pull out your chair, and then trip over the legs. He tried, though, he really did. And you seemed to pick up on that.

Maybe you were simply entertaining his awkward attempts at being smooth. Maybe you were just playing along. But sometimes when he made a joke, you would laugh and touch his arm. And other times when he messed something up or did something stupid, you would call him ‘so cute’ which caused his friends to tease him and made him go red in the face. He had always thought of himself as smooth, calm, collected. You proved that everything could change.

At was almost the end of the school year when Gojo’d managed to rule Geto up enough to urge him to speak on his feelings. It’s February. A layer of frost encases the world, as if it was trying to preserve it, keep it that way forever. But the sun was suspended in the sky, chipping away at the icy covering. Change is coming, says the sky. Geto agrees. He will welcome it, even. It must be a good omen, he presumes, a sign of fortune to come.

You are knelt down by a small pond. With a stick in hand, he observes you for a moment as you appear to poke at the thinning sheet of ice covering the body of water.

“What are you doing?” He can see, he knows, but he asks anyways. You turn over your shoulder and give him a bright, bright smile. He feels himself melting inside.

“I was waiting for Mei Mei, for our assignment in Shibuya. But she’s going to be late, I think.” You frown a little, and he joins you on the ground in front of the little pond. The both of you watch as chunks of ice slowly decay into nothingness as the sunlight licks the surface. Greedy like a child with ice cream. Always taking more. (Change is coming.)

“So, this isn’t a bad time?”

You look at him again, shifting your body to face him rather than the pond. Soft beams of sunlight kiss your cheek, and he takes in every detail. How your eyes glow warm, bright, so bright, even though you have to squint a little. How your hair turns to fire. How you are looking at him and only him. “No. Is there something you need to say to me, Geto?”

He’s so confident. He will tell you that yes, he wants to ask you to lunch at a café he found in the city. He wants to pay for your food, and pull out a chair for you without falling over. He wants to take you on a date. He wants to tell you about how he likes you, why he likes you, and argue a thesis as to why you would be good together. So he opens his mouth.

None of that comes out.

“No. I was just curious,” he lies through his teeth, gesturing to the pond. Oh, he’s fucked this. Gojo and Shoko were most definitely going to get on his ass about this later. He grimaces a grin as you smile.

“Ah, don’t mind me! I was just killing time, you know?”

He’s 15, almost 16. He’s a special grade jujutsu sorcerer. He is one of the strongest. You made him so, so weak. He forgets himself, sometimes. That he is still a boy despite it all.

He hums conversationally, though he’s feeling particularly embarrassed internally. “So cold out. Do you think we’ll get snow?”

At least Geto is good with his words, good enough to cover up his lull, his fumble. At least you don’t notice anything wrong as you respond with a glance skyward, “hm. I doubt it. I wish, though.”

“Really? Don’t you want nicer weather?”

You tilt your head a little and he feels dizzy, and lightheaded. He isn’t paying much attention to what you’re saying even though he should be. Geto is more focused on the slope of your nose, the angle of your cheeks, the curve of your hand as it thrums against your thigh. “In my opinion, snow is the best kind of weather. I like how everything fits together. And I like when it melts. How it smells and all.”

He laughs. “You’re so weird.”

You punch his shoulder lightly. “Plus, snow reminds me of when I was younger. Snowball fights, shopping for scarves and coats and gloves, all that. So I guess it’s personal.”

He softens. You give him another smile but it’s melancholy this time. A nostalgia. He wants to engrave it into his memory. Keep you forever. “Do you wish you could go back ever?”

You would be lying if you said no, so you say yes instead. “But there’s no point in thinking about that, yeah? We can do all that now. Next winter. Let’s build an igloo or something, Geto.”

The smile is on his face before he knows it and he’s pried away from the emotional intimacy as soon as it’s shown itself. You are bright again and he is a moth. Enamoured by you, always. “Let’s.”

He bids you farewell a moment or so later when Mei Mei’s silhouette appears in the distance. He would be more upset, if he thought about his lack of confession. But as always, conversing with you is fulfillment enough. He can always ask when you get home, he thinks. He can ask, and you can say yes. And you can plan out the igloo you’re going to build, and he can map out the future house you’re going to share.

Except, the ice melts in the pond. And the frost turns to water permeating the soil. And you never come home.

This is Geto Suguru’s first taste of death. The impermanence of it all. The way that in less than a day, someone could be gone.

It was an oversight on the part of the initial reports. A special grade curse instead of two 1st grades. He knows because he is the one called in for backup, and he is the one who finds your body. You are cold like the snow by the time it is all over. Colder, even. And you’re still so pretty it hurts.

He’s never seen the body of a loved one before. He is so strangely detached and yet, at the same time, so full of anguish. Who could’ve stopped this? Could he have? What if you were alive? What would you say? Did it hurt? Were you going to be okay, wherever you were now? He thinks back to the conversation about the snow. He thinks back to the tripping over chairs, the way you always made space for anyone in any room. The way you loved so big in such little ways. The way it almost could’ve worked.

You taught Geto that change is inevitable. That death is always a part of life, especially for innocents, especially for those who deserve it the least. This is his beginning of the end. The way it will all begin to fall apart. Because he never got to know your favorite color. He never got to know how you like your coffee, or where you liked to shop. The only thing he knew is that you liked the cold. So next time it snowed, he would stay inside and lament the fact that if the world was a little different, and a lot kinder, you would be there with him.

You’d have said yes to his date, he believes. If you’d gotten the chance.

(Ice melts. The sun is hot, too hot. Change is coming.)

(Maybe it's already here.)

"Grief was a spare room where we put things." -Aimee Seu, Velvet Hounds

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Pevensie kids are otherwordly in more ways than the naked eye reveals.

For starters, with all the years they have spent around great cats, they are absolutely silent when they walk. They can stalk and prowl like no one's business, and once, when a girl pissed off Lucy, she showed her her teeth.

When a shrink asks her why she is scared of cats, so many years later , she remembers the white flash in the schoolyard, the sudden certainty of death.

Second of all, they don't seem to leave footprints in snow. In the winters of Narnia, magic was all around Cair Paravel, benign spirits showing them how to leave no traces, go unseen in the great white. Some swear they move without touching the earth. No one is sure enough to rebutt them.

The Pevensies are unbeatable in snowball fights. Especially Susan can throw like a honkball pitcher, able to single out and pick off targets that should be out of reach.

When the boys drink alcohol for the first time, at ages 17 and 15, they turn out to have great tolerance, something no one their age should have. Yet Peter and Edmund can beat anyone in a drinking game. Narnian spirits were strong (pun intented), so they do not find this feat particularly challenging. And no one understands how Susan puts away bottles and bottles of wine without ever slurring her words or losing her razor sharp mind.

The boys that keep pouring her more wine, hoping to take her home drunk, leave disappointed every night. Susan knows what's up. She's been forced to sit through boring diplomatic dinners with alcohol as her only interesting companion, is used to men trying to take advantage when she drinks. She will not be tricked by school boys.

They have a tolerance for other substances, too.

When someone gets the bright idea to roofie Lucy at age 16, he ends up with a nail through his foot, hanging from the highest tree in London.

Lucy shows up the next day with dirt under her nails and a hammer in her backpack. The teachers take one look at Peter, who stares back with a glare that could refreeze Narnia, and decide not to say a word.

They're all insanely strong swimmers. Susan won prizes before, but now she's breaking records. Edmund saves a man twice his weight from drowing, dragging him along across a cold lake for half a mile.

No one understands how the scrawny, 5"9 kid pulled that off. Or how he manages to hold his breath for so long.

And then there is the question of their minds.

Suddenly, Edmund can beat even the most experienced men in chess. He goes on to become champion of the region and then of the whole of England.

Peter, once a mediocre student, is now a stunningly good writer. When his professor reads his essay for Ethics, he weeps, something that has never happened before. Many see a future in academia for him.

Susan becomes known as the best problem solver in school. She's able to resolve many conflicts, not in the least because she's so attractive men stop thinking about fighting the second she steps into a room. But underneath the beauty resides a smooth operator. Her professors don't doubt for a second she'll be a brilliant politician.

Lucy no longer has the child like innocence from before the war. Her sense of wonder never left her, though. The centaurs have taught her astronomy, and looking at the stars reminds her of Narnia, one of the few things that are the same. The boarding school telescope goes missing an awful lot, as does she. Often, her brothers and sister come along, especially on bright nights. They never get caught.

They've changed. And they hold onto these pieces of Narnia, because it is all they have left.

[astraystayyh]

Snow on the beach

Hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers, but they've always known. implied soulmates.

this basically wrote itself nsbdbd as always feedback is highly appreciated <33 (if you can listen to Snow On The Beach by Taylor and Lana, do it!)

The ocean laps softly at your feet, and you watch its ebb and flow intently, admiring how each wave always knows precisely where to go- where to finally rest after a long journey of travels. 

This beach is your spot with Hyunjin. Not a secret one by any means, but one that feels yours because of all the memories you've shared here. The ocean has witnessed it all between the two of you.

"I will miss this," you sigh wistfully, and Hyunjin hums from beside you. He's watching the water too, legs tightly hugged to his chest, his cheek resting softly on his knee. 

You've grown up with Hyunjin right in front of this ocean. You weren't lovers but you weren't friends either. You were simply a mirror of one another. Every part of him found its reflection in you. 

"Me too. Remember when we first came here?" he chuckles softly at the distant memory and you smile to yourself. That was seven years ago. 

You are 15, stomping down the beach because you are angry at the world, just like every other teenager. You plop down on the sand and dig your hand into its warm particles. The soothing sensation grounds you and the sound of the waves drowns out your thoughts.  

"Hey," someone greets and you look up to find Hyunjin. He's your classmate in high school. You remember him in passing because you once dropped your pen and he picked it up for you without a word.  

"Hi," you greet back, shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays with your hand. Hyunjin moves a bit to the side to block out the sun for you. You notice. 

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks and you shrug, "Sure. But I don't feel like talking." 

"Me too. We can sit alone together." 

Paradoxal words, but you soon understand what he means by them. He's right next to you, but you're both lost in your own worlds. And yet his presence seems to have a calming effect on you. It feels comforting, to have someone exist with you without asking for anything in return.

"I do remember," you smile, turning back to look at the ocean. Your hand starts to pick up the sand once more, and Hyunjin does the same. Your pinkies brush against each other- it isn't the first time this happened. Touching Hyunjin has become second nature to you. 

You are 16, facing the ocean once again. Only this time tears are streaming down your eyes. 'Where are you?' you read in Hyunjin's text and you quickly write back 'Our spot'. He's there ten minutes later. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but his fingers are intertwined with yours and it's enough. It was the first time Hyunjin has grabbed your hand in. You haven't been the same since. 

"And now you're leaving me," Hyunjin teases, a glint of amusement shining brightly in his eyes. He knows you'd never leave. Even if you are no longer near him. 

"Mm, finally getting a break from you after 7 years," you joke as your fingers curl around his pinky, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You'll always be here. 

You're 17, and it's nearly midnight, and yet you and Hyunjin are still talking in front of the ocean- the waves drinking in each bit of your conversation.

It's cold and you shiver slightly from the breeze grazing your exposed arms. Hyunjin notices and opens his jacket wide for you, silently inviting you to seek warmth from him. You bury yourself in his chest, his arms coming around to encircle you.

Your ear settles directedly on top of his heart- the first time you listen to Hyunjin's heartbeat. But it feels familiar, as if it's been ringing within you from the moment you met.

"Can't believe you won't be here for my birthday," he pouts and you giggle, inching closer to him in the process.

You've celebrated your birthday together for the past seven years. You've known all his wishes, since he always shared them with you. He didn't care about the superstition that telling someone your wish prevented it from becoming a reality. He believed that you and he are one, so it was only natural to tell you. 

"I'll call you from the other side of the world." You were leaving, not for long, only a year. A work opportunity you couldn't pass on. And yet it felt weird and unnatural to be somewhere where Hyunjin wouldn't be. 

You are 18, and as you watch the waves fizzle out as they meet the shore, your head laying on Hyunjin's shoulder, a sudden realization dawns on you. 

You are an ocean wave soaring too close to the sky, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful, to be guarded by your heart alone. But as you near Hyunjin, your waves falter, your steps halt. Your worries, your fears, and your anger are no longer forces to be reckoned with. Instead, they become harmless sea foam. A mere shell of what they once were. To you, Hyunjin is the shore, bringing you out of your darkness, welcoming you home. 

"You'll call at my midnight?" he asks, leaning his face closer toward yours. You could clearly see his moles now, the one under his eye, and the one on his cheek. They remind you of the ink of a poet that ended up drying on his face. Everything that made Hyunjin was poetry to you. 

"Missing me already?" you grin at him and his eyes soften at you. "I miss you even when you are with me." 

You are 19, and Hyunjin is laying his head on your lap, dried tear stains on his face. This isn't the first time you've seen Hyunjin cry. But it is the first he sobbed in your arms. It was an agonizing sight, one that made you realize just how far you care for him. His eyes were now closed, as you gently thread through his hair, your touch seemingly calming him down. 

"I think I'm your shore today," you whisper, your voice getting caught up with the wind and the crashing of waves. But Hyunjin catches it. He understands.

"I need to write you a list of reminders, since I won't be here to take care of you," you joke, brushing away his words as if they weren't now imprinted onto your heart.

"If I don't follow them will you come back?"

You are 20, and it's your birthday. You are naturally celebrating it at your spot at the beach. You are laughing loudly at a joke Hyunjin just said when your hand slips from beneath you, and you are suddenly thrown forward, your nose now brushing against his. Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, and it makes your heart clench- how unguarded he seems to be with you. So you lean in and place a chaste kiss on the mole adorning his cheek. You've always wanted to do that. 

"This is my birthday gift," you giggle and Hyunjin shakes his head, a crimson blush tinting his cheeks. 

"I'll always come back to you," you say quietly. 

You are 21 and it's snowing at the beach. The first time you've seen it happen in your entire existence. You watch in awe as dainty snowflakes coat the sand- a sight so mesmerizing it renders you speechless for a few moments. But despite the beauty unfolding around you, Hyunjin still only has his eyes on you. You are admiring the snow and he's admiring you. 

"And I'll always be here."

You are now twenty-two, and you are saying your goodbyes to your place at the beach with Hyunjin.

It happens naturally, the way Hyunjin finally tells you that he loves you, right where it had all started. This is the first time he's uttered those three words and yet it's as if you've been hearing them for the past seven years. 

"I love you," you say back, the confession flowing easily from your mouth because you've both always known. 

You've known each time you sat down here, in front of this ocean. Where every past version of yourselves confessed the way they knew best- through stolen glances and subtle touches and comforting words. Where you've slowly grown within ones another's soul, just like the rings of a tree.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 16.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: whoops plot. I didn't really proofread this — sorry. Also sorry it is taking so long for the chapters to come out. I hope you still love me.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Part 1, ….. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Maybe it was the expensive clothes you were wearing. Maybe it was the understated, quiet luxury of the handbag you walked through that office door carrying. Could it be the shoes? Surely the casual observer couldn’t have noticed the bright red soles of the brand new Louboutins on your feet as you walked.

Perhaps there was some extra oxygen filling up your chest somehow making you carry yourself with an added bit of confidence; making you feel as if you could float away with even the slightest breeze.

You felt as if you were a completely different person. You felt as if the others could tell. It couldn’t just all be happening inside of your head either because you caught evidence of some reactions to you; little things. Tiny double takes as you walked by. Slight widening of eyes when you entered your meetings; slight twinges in the expressions of their faces; barely detectable save for how very aware of yourself and of all of them you felt inside of your skin right now.

So much was new. So much felt different.

You were, in very new and very real ways, very suddenly and unequivocally … somebody’s.

And that somebody he was — he was yours too.

It had a taste to it — it was rich and sweet and secretive and quick. A fresh baked cookie swiped when Mom’s back was turned. Hasty kisses stolen behind heavy wooden doors and brushes of warm fingertips over the back of a hand as you walked by. The whispered lean of a warm shoulder against your own as you both stood in an elevator; surrounded by people; acutely aware of the rhythm of only eachother’s breathing.

A smell like very early morning just before dawn on Christmas Day; the smell of pine and cinnamon and the crisp chill of snow outside, like hiding at the top of the stairs to catch a forbidden glimpse of Santa Claus.

Warm brown eyes from across a hectic room touched into yours again and again. You knew you were staring. You had very little control over it though. This was so very unlike you. Baekhyun was as busy as you had been. The project was wrapping today and loose ends had to be tied up. Final documents had to be submitted to clients. Plus he had been training his replacement on all of his tasks and duties. Tomorrow would be the wrap party. You could hardly wait to unclench. You’d have some drinks with your team and you’d even get to dance. Maybe you could get away with a dance or two with your soon to be ex-assistant without drawing too many curious gazes.

You could dance together one or twice, couldn’t you? You could stand to be held in his arms and swung around the dance floor without leaning in too close or gazing too deeply into his deep brown eyes as you did it, right?

You did your absolute best to look at something else; at anything else.

Those deep brown eyes had found yours once again. Again and again, he found you. Maybe it wasn’t only you who had been staring at him as he showed Assistant Cha the ropes; as he leaned in and spoke very closely with her; as he told her things that made her head roll back and big belly laughs erupted from her bosom that shook like jelly when she laughed dramatically with her whole body.

She reached a hand out and her fingertips touched lightly along his forearm; making contact for a fraction of a second — no more time than the width of a strand of hair. Not enough time of actual contact to warrant any sort of comment about it at all. It was not even any real touch on his skin even; she got his shirt sleeve. This was nothing. This certainly wasn’t anything that warranted such a ridiculously detailed description inside the ever-present internal monologue that played through your head when you thought about this man. It could hardly even be called a touch, really.

Still…she touched his arm. She laughed and giggled and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him and you knew, you knew what it felt like to look at him and talk to him and feel that attraction and desire and lust and want. You knew of the kinds of irrational and impossible fantasies that would fly through her head at the very thought of just one of her desperate touches being returned by him.

You could not blame her. He was beautiful.

He moved his arm down and away; probably purposefully. He was reaching for something and just before he spoke, just before his movement nagged at her focus and pulled her dreamy eyes away from his pretty face and down onto what he had to show her, just before his focus dropped to the papers or notebooks or tablet or whatever the hell it was that he held inside his hand, you had them once more; those deep brown eyes that looked into yours from across this space; those brown eyes of his that found yours again and again no matter where you were and no matter where he was — it was like a magnet. He looked at you and you looked at him and the sound and the commotion and the ever present din inside of this busy workspace fell weirdly silent to your own ears.

You had to stop this.

You pulled your focus away from the two of them and you looked around the room at your team. It took so much effort to do.

With the exception of one person, the entire team was immersed in their own tasks. There was a bittersweet vibe in the air and each and every one of these people, to the very end, was giving it their all.

As your eyes made their way around to each desk, glimpsing lightly over its occupant, you reached a person who’s presence had been so familiar to you that you only half jumped to find her looking right at you.

Sandi, a senior member of your translating team and the person who occupied the seat closest to your office door, the person who had worked with you for probably the longest out of all of the group, who you had shared many long nights with over the course of your career, Sandi was watching you with a quiet amusement on her face.

You met her eyes with as much strength and fortitude as you could manage but you admittedly felt a bit taken aback to have had her attention during this time; this time when you foolishly had assumed no one could possibly be paying any attention to you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Perhaps a small smile in your direction and maybe she would resume her work. Or maybe she was watching you because she had a question for you. You strengthened the eye contact with Sandi and lifted your eyebrows in question. Doing your absolute best to keep any guilty expressions from manifesting in your eyes.

You definitely hadn’t expected the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You should stop watching them. She doesn’t hold a candle—“ she began out loud but just as suddenly as she spoke, her words halted abruptly as she closed up her mouth with a start, shaking her head in quick shallow passes. The small self-satisfied smile that had been coloring her lips before she opened her mouth had now slipped away and her eyes widened as she turned her head away from you; averting her eyes. She lifted a hand to cover over her mouth, clearly surprised that she would say such a thing out loud.

Sandi may have been surprised by herself, but you felt blindsided. You felt your mouth go dry and a spindly tingling slowly crept up the back of your neck.

She knew.

Sandi knew.

You felt sick.

The panic that surged through you was swift and complete and it took your breath and what was left of your rational mind.

Without your mind working, all you could manage was to stare down at the girl in silence until you exhaled a purposefully slow breath through your mouth. She had both of her hands over her parted lips and she was reeling. You felt similarly but thankfully years of working through impossible and stressful situations where your facial expression mattered, kept the reeling happening inside of you where it should stay.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, Miss Manager. I didn’t mean—”

“Sandi — come see me in my office, please.”

Sandi knew you better than most. You’d worked closely beside her for so many years, if anyone would have noticed the obvious change in you since you’d met Baekhyun it would be Sandi. It made the most sense that she would have noticed something was going on. But still, you felt blindsided by this revelation. It wasn’t that you didn't trust the woman, you did. If anyone in this office was going to know such a damning secret about you, it might as well be Sandi.

You felt guilty. You felt very much in the wrong. You’d always strived to set such a good example to your team members and here you’d been caught red-handed, having done such a thing with your direct subordinate of all people, with your assistant! Yes, yes you had already processed his transfer, met with his new team lead, you were doing your absolute best to remove Baekhyun from any and every position beside you, beneath you, any connection to you as quickly as you possibly could. But the fact remained, you were in direct violation of company policy. You should have come clean to HR the second you’d realized just how inappropriate the professional relationship with Baekhyun had turned to have him transferred out that very day.

But you had been weak.

You had delayed it; torn by the very thought of losing him from your side and now…now someone knew. What if she had the wrong idea? What if she thought you used your influence over him to coerce him into the relationship? What if she thought it was one sided, or what if she used this new-found information to hold over you?

You shook your head back and forth as she walked through the doorway of your office and quietly closed the door behind her. Her head was downcast and she moved slowly through the space to take a seat beside where you sat with your hands clenched together in your lap on the small sofa in the center of the room.

“Miss Manager, I really didn’t mean anything bad by what I said. I was just thinking out loud and it slipped out.” She began quickly, as soon you felt the cushion dip when she sat down.

“Can you tell me what you meant by it?” You kept your voice low and careful as you replayed her words again in your mind, a quiet disbelief dancing along the edges of your memory. Maybe you heard her wrong, or maybe she didn't mean it exactly as it sounded to you. Maybe your guilty conscience had you running when nothing was even chasing you.

She didn't speak for a few moments and you swallowed the moisture inside your mouth, lifted your head and looked around the clean space of your office.

“You said that I can stop watching them, who do you think I was watching?” You probed again, realizing that your face, which was angled away from her now, might have not been as in control as usual. You could feel the dampness in your eyes and you blinked quickly.

“Baekhyun and Assistant Cha. Nothing is going on there. There is nothing to worry about. I’m on your side, by the way — both of you.”

You had confirmed it.

She knew.

You felt your steady resolve crumble with the deep sigh of defeat that left your chest and the oxygen leaving your lungs pulled your eyelids closed until all of the light was shut out for a moment. Just for a moment.

You only needed one moment.

“How did you know?” The delicacy of your words, tantamount to a confession, balanced lightly on the tip of your tongue. Your voice sounded so much smaller than you were used to hearing from yourself.

Her reply did not come instantly but the delay in her response, you knew, was more imagined by your own sense of urgency than in anything she was doing. Still, you were impatient to know; enough to turn your gaze from the safety of the silent bookshelf full of items you had owned and controlled for years to look anxiously upon the expressions written on her face and the unpredictable and uncontrollable harsh truths you might find in her eyes.

“Does anyone else know?” You whispered another quiet question, despite the fact that she hadn’t answered the first one yet.

Her eyes watched your face and in them you saw a lightness and warmth. On her lips was the smallest sweet smile that brought you back again to the woman you knew so well; the woman you had worked with closely over the years on several projects, through countless sleepless nights, tirelessly and side by side. The valuable member of your team who proved herself to be trustworthy and reliable. The woman you sought out first when something needed to be handled discreetly and quickly.

She was watching your face and she inhaled a small breath to speak.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could possibly know,” she said with that soft smile still inside her warm eyes. She was reaching into her pocket to pull out her cellphone and you looked down at her illuminated screen as she opened up an app. It was Instagram. She clicked a few times and eventually landed on a profile that was familiar. It was Baekhyun’s account and a few harmless pictures down his feed, her fingers stopped scrolling when she reached something that you knew would be a picture he had posted one of the nights he’d spent in your bed.

It was an innocuous shot of his hand holding your hand with only an alarm clock visible in the background. The time read 02:16 A.M. and it sat atop a wooden bedside table. Nothing else was in focus. The background of the picture was blurred beyond recognition with only a hazy outline of the very tip of the tail of your darkened bird lamp but definitely not anything that was recognizable about it. Neither of you wore any jewelry that might possibly come back to you. You looked at the words he wrote below the image — ‘I die for any little bit of you, my love.’ — and while yes, it had filled you with butterflies and made you kick and scream under your covers in secret when you saw what he wrote, for the purposes of Sandi identifying you from just this— was she a witch? How could she possibly have known?

There was nothing there. Nothing that pointed to you so conclusively that she would present this evidence to you with such conviction.

“From his posts, I knew he was seeing someone, but when I saw this, it suddenly made sense — how you could have changed so much since he joined. Anyway, I bought you that clock as a Secret Santa gift last year. So obviously I would be the only one to recognize it. I am glad to see you still use it.”

“Would you believe me if I said I gave the clock away to my sister, so that couldn’t possibly be me in the picture?”

You said it jokingly; feeling as if a switch had been flipped with Sandi since she knew something so very damning about you. What authority and respect? This woman saw and knew too much. You now had a confidant and maybe even a friend. Oh no! What if you had to transfer her to another department too? You couldn’t keep losing your best people like this just because you couldn’t keep your work life separated from your personal life.

You honestly felt as if you’d lost all control in this job the moment that man walked through your office door on his first day of work.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Right,” you conceded quickly.

“Miss Manager,” Sandi began after a few moments, “you don’t need to feel so guilty about this. I really don’t think either of you have done anything wrong. And isn’t that why he’s being transferred so suddenly? To avoid any problems with the company.”

“And let me guess. He made the first move, right? I’m certain of it. I noticed how he looks at you. Since last year even.”

“Last year? You knew him from before this project?”

“You don’t remember him? He was interning with Manager Jung Ho. Ahhh maybe it was the red hair and the glasses.”

Sandi still had her phone out and was scrolling again, this time through her own photo albums that went back through the years. You recognized yourself in many of the shots. Candid pictures as you both worked, a few of the group laughing together as the team unwound after some particularly hectic days. Her scrolling stopped abruptly and you looked down to where she touched with her index finger on a pretty boy with wavy red hair, wearing round gold wire glasses and standing literally right beside you, his eyes looking at you while you were about as busy as could be focusing on putting out several fires at once.

“Here he is. Always following around Miss Manager Noona. Always staring at Miss Manager Noona and talking about Miss Manager Noona. He was so annoying,” she said with a hearty laugh. She scrolled again and image after image showed a similar scene, Baekhyun taking stolen glances at you and you with your mind so occupied at the time you didn’t even remember him. The more pictures you saw of the young red-head with the glasses the more the actual memories of him popped into your mind.

He was bright and chipper and you never did catch his name at the time. He was noisy and full of laughter and full of life and you…well, you had a dark storm cloud hanging over your head back then. Last year was a hard year for you. You had some professional failures that you still dwelled on and some even worse personal failures involving one relationship that still burned you to think about. You’d nearly given up on all things romance at the time; sworn off men forever with their lies and their cheating ways. It was no wonder your eyes had been so blind to the entire person standing beside you; rooting for you; building you up as he had done back then.

You remembered him more as you looked at the pictures. Now his face was so recognizable to you, after you had fallen in love with everything about him, you’d even be able to spot him with bright blue hair and a fake mustache on. But apparently all it had taken was a pair of glasses and a wavy red perm.

“I can’t believe he pulled a Superman-Clark Kent on me — ohhhh…look at how cute he was!” You cooed right out loud. A momentary lapse made you forget where you were and as soon as the sickeningly saccharine words left your lips you lifted a hand to cover over your parted lips.

She laughed out loud , “Oh no, you’ve got it bad. You’ll invite me to the wedding, won’t you?”

She was joking when she said it but you closed up your mouth and pulled both of your lips between your teeth, biting down to try and keep from doing something stupid like squealing from the pent up excitement you felt when you thought about marrying him. Your strong reaction was yet another confession. She had gone motionless the moment you didn't laugh it off as just a funny joke.

“Of course you are invited,” you whispered just under your breath and her laughter quit suddenly, her lips hung open, and her eyes widened significantly.

“Oh my god. What? What?!” She was whispering, but it was a very loud and very excited sounding whisper. “Are you serious?”

You felt her hands grip around your upper arms and she gave you a good shake. It made the laughter break free from your chest and you were giggling now. It was useless to fight it. You could feel the excitement building the more she shook you and the louder her whispering giggles grew. You lifted both hands to cover over your face as your entire body shook with laughter.

You gave into it; the joy and anticipation that her genuine excitement brought out of you and by the time you heard the soft two knocks on your office door you had to wipe away moisture from your eyes from giggling so much before you could compose yourself enough to call out to whoever was knocking that the door was unlocked and they could come in.

The door was pushed and a familiar head of blond hair poked inside just before you saw the rest of his face.

“Miss Manager,” Baekhyun spoke cautiously with his face carefully controlled as he said it. Not even any flirtatious tones hidden in a sweet grin or a secret wink. He was on his best behavior today with so many witnesses around. You hadn’t had a single pointed look from him in hours. It had been at least two hours since you felt the warmth of his fingertips on the skin of the back of your hand. It had been a solid hour since he had looked into your eyes for longer than thirty seconds and allowed those eyes to slip down and steal a glance at your lips.

“You have a meeting upstairs in five,” he said and he pushed the door open further. You could make out Assistant Cha standing just behind him; a thick and heavily scribbled notebook held up to her chest with both of her arms wrapped tightly around it as if it carried all of the secrets of her very new and scary universe.

You nodded your head to the pair of them and quickly gathered your end-of-project meeting materials.

Sandi was excusing herself quietly; if not rather slowly. You caught the lingering examination she gave to Baekhyun as she made her way around the sofa you both had been squealing on moments earlier and seemed to be taking her time with the exit. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't make it known, but after a few moments of her looking into his face she simply nodded her head once, smiled a sweet smile in his direction and said a quick, “Okay, okay. I can see it. I could have sworn you used to wear glasses.”

You bit down on the side of your tongue to suppress any remaining giggles.

Baekhyun’s eyes danced around her face for a moment in mild confusion and he frowned his lips with a tiny pout, inhaling lightly and parting his lips to respond. But before he could offer any explanation she turned her head back in your direction, gave you a small wave of her hand and a quick, “See you at the wrap party, Miss Manager,” and she then was gone.

You’d made it half of the way through the rows of cubicles when a tap on your shoulder halted your steps and pulled your attention behind you. You recognized that the person calling you was Baekhyun and your eyes were pulled down toward his hand in which he held a small post-it note.

“Excuse me, Miss Manager, I think you dropped this,” he said as he pushed the small folded-in-half piece of colorful paper into the palm of your hand. You knew you must have had a questioning look inside your eyes, at least for the first few seconds of this, but you quickly recovered with a nod and a quiet thank-you on your lips. You slipped the paper inside the pocket of your blazer.

As your legs moved, you noticed that Baekhyun and Assistant Cha held back some, and your curiosity about the small token from your boyfriend felt absolutely itchy. It was as if that small note was pulsing as it called to you from inside your pocket. You slipped your hand in and pulled it out, glancing around quickly to take note of the fact that no one around was paying you any attention at all and with Baekhyun’s steps so far behind you figured no one would mind if you read whatever little details might have been written just for you on this note.

‘I miss you today. You are right here and I miss you to death. I am being so brave about it. You can compliment me about it later, if you want.

P.S. Which season do you like best?’

You silently slipped the note back inside your pocket with a lovely little tap over the fabric to make sure it was secure. You felt as if this elevator you stood inside was carrying you straight into the clouds above this building. He probably couldn't text you freely because of the close proximity of his shadow, Assistant Cha. Or maybe he just wanted to hand you this adorable little note as a physical token of his affection; something you could hold in your hand and lightly touch with the tip of your finger. You half wondered if you should just text him back the answer to his question.

Instead you held your finger over the elevator button to keep it open long enough for the pair of assistants to finally join you inside and you caught the briefest touch of his brown eyes as he stepped inside.

His eyes did not linger. Yours did not chase but you did feel the distinct presence of the warmth of his body as he stepped into the space directly behind you. There were no secret touches or hidden attempts to reach for you inside this space. The high speed elevator surged up quickly; its destination was amongst the upper floors and with the abrupt movement you rocked lightly on your legs to keep your balance. You reached a hand out to rest it over the bar and a glance to your right, just over your shoulder afforded you the view of a familiar hand doing the same. Long slender fingers flexed once outward in your direction, but his hand did not move any closer to you and eventually those fingers simply wrapped around the silver pole for the remainder of the elevator ride.

You would not let your fingers leave his skin tonight.

You’d had your fill of denial.

The meeting was typical for this stage of a project. You paid exactly enough attention as you needed to. Your presentation showcased your team’s successes and honestly, although you didn’t tend to toot your own horn, your own performance looked incredibly impressive as well. Although with such a capable team it was hard not to look incredible. You gave credit where credit was due as you always did and as the other managers and directors said their parts you pulled out a small note pad from your bag and began penning a response to your boyfriend. You did your best to keep your face from showing too much but you could feel the elation pulling your lips into a small smile as you drew the little sad faced emoji in the middle of the note.

‘You are very brave, and doing so much better than I am. I got caught staring at you today. :( Sandi knows now.

P.S. I like the fall. Winter is too cold, Spring is too sneezy, and Summer is too hot. Although you kissed me in the summertime so I like it now too.

P.P.S. I remember you now, from Jung Ho’s project. I didn’t know you wore glasses.

P.P.P.S. It’s not fair for you to look so handsome in every hair color. ’

You stopped writing when you ran out of space. This all could have gone so much smoother in a text message, but there was something magical about writing all of this out in a note to secretly pass to him in person.

Your meeting ended and there was another meeting coming up just after lunch. Your busy schedule and the ever present assembly of people around you didn’t give you any opportunities to pass on the note. And when you would have normally both found yourselves alone with each other, now there was an entirely new person around with her own set of eyes, watching and learning all sorts of things about her new position. And hopefully just that.

She was fine. You could tell that Baekhyun was right about her. She would do well and she would succeed in her new role. You would come to depend on her and appreciate her too. Maybe even the strange undeserved bitterness you felt when you looked at her pretty young face would fade.

But now, you wished she had some other place she desperately had to be.

You found your chance just after lunch when Assistant Cha had departed to the bathrooms. You spotted Baekhyun leaning against a pillar on the ground floor checking the time on his watch, looking about as handsome as could be in his suit and ignoring the many curious glances from various ladies and men who walked by him. He seemed to be waiting for something and you slipped closer to where he stood, careful not to be spotted as you made your way around the other side of the pillar.

You’d reached a hand out to tap on his shoulder at the exact moment that a ping sounded out on his cell phone and he moved out of the way just as your fingers extended so that they touched nothing. You felt a little silly.

While you felt a tinge of disappointment that you’d missed your chance, you also felt a surge of mild curiosity about what he was up to. He made his way toward the security turnstiles and met with a run-of-the mill food delivery man who handed him a small black bag from a local bakery down the block. You’d recognized the logo of one of your favorite shops that had the absolute best fruit tarts you’d ever had and a chocolate cake slice that you’d just about sell your soul for.

He was walking back with his head and his focus turned down into the small bag and you spun on your heels behind your pillar so he would not see you stalking him.

Your feet moved lightly, feeling like you were in some sort of spy movie as you moved along with him, yet just out of his sight as he made his way toward the elevator. The button was pressed, the lights illuminated and after a few moments the soft ding let you know that he would be stepping forward into that quiet space. What kind of deal with the devil did you have to make for that elevator to be empty?

He stepped inside and you held back. You counted in your head just a few times before moving and just as the doors were closing you slipped inside the space, earning the quiet gasp from the very center of his chest when he saw you.

It was empty. You had him alone for a few seconds at least.

“Excuse me, Assistant Byun, I think you dropped this.” You did your best impression of him and held up the little colorful note you had with a cheeky smile that he returned instantly as he reached out quick fingertips to grab the note.

Baekhyun wasted no time. His fingers pulled the small sheet apart and his mouth moved as he silently formed the words of your message with his lips.

“Oh my god,” he gasped quietly; having absorbed the bad news from the note first, “Sandi knows? How?”

“She’s a better detective than Batman,” you shrugged rather casually. Both because you trusted Sandi and you figured if you weren’t freaking out about this, then maybe he would take it in stride as well. “She showed me some pictures of you from last year.”

“Did she?” His lips were pulled into a smile and you caught the little lift of his chin and the scrunch of his nose.

You nodded twice, acutely aware of how telling the smile on your face must look to him. “I remember you. I didn't know your name though. But you looked very cute with the little glasses and the hair,” you lifted a hand to make a waving motion with your fingers above your own head. “Did you get LASIK? Where are the glasses?”

He was reaching a hand out to press a button on the elevator panel and his eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips.

“Oh, that was just fashion. They never had any lenses in them. I have perfect vision.”

His clarification made you laugh out loud. You leaned against the back wall of the elevator and looked into his face freely, feeling every bit of the affection and attraction you had for the man fill up your chest with contentment. At last, you had a moment alone with him. You could look at him. You could stare at him and you could daydream and you could let every single recent memory of the love you shared with him flood your mind freely in this shared space without onlookers or witnesses.

Baekhyun leaned against the side wall, doing just about the exact same thing to you and when his head leaned back against the elevator wall his eyelids sank down half closed, his jaw relaxed, and his lips parted with a slow exhale of air from deep within his lungs.

“I wish I could touch you,” he whispered under his breath.

“Me too,” you confessed, “stupid cameras,” you added without breaking eye contact with him; although you did let your head fall some to rest against the back wall.

“I’ll kiss you in the wintertime,” he said with a smile pulling at his lips, “so you don't feel the cold so much.” His sweet words and that pretty smile pulled a matching smile from you. You lifted a hand to cover over your mouth, tapping lightly over your lips with your fingertips.

“Let’s have a winter wedding,” he said.

“This winter? So soon?” You didn’t hear any objection in your voice. Only curiosity.

He nodded and blinked his eyes slowly; a truly dreamy expression taking over his features.

“We can honeymoon somewhere without pollen and I will kiss you in the springtime.”

You couldn’t stand it. You felt ready to burst right here inside this elevator; just from his sweet, romantic promises that coated you from head to toe.

In the recesses of your mind; in the bargaining parts, you could hear the questions parading by.

What if you reached a hand out and pressed the button for the ground floor on this elevator panel. What if you pulled him by the shirt sleeve — didn’t give a good damn about who saw — and marched him right out of this office building, out onto the street, and hailed a cab destined for your apartment. What if you said screw who knew the truth, screw the wrap and the endless droning meetings, screw this job. What if you took him home and you locked both of you inside your home for a month straight. Nothing but the two of you and the privacy you would find in that bedroom.

“I miss you,” he said softly under his breath with his eyes still locked onto your face. Your mind had been wandering but his words pulled you back into yourself.

“I’m right here,” you said with a small smile, blinking your eyes slowly and purposefully in his direction again and again, as if you could send him a message with their movement — I love you, I love you, I love you — your eyelids called out to him.

“I miss you, though,” he said again with a long exhale from his lungs. “What am I going to do next week when I can't look up and see you whenever I want?”

The elevator slowed its rapid upward movement and you could feel it in your stomach as it slowed to a stop. Someone must be joining; you hadn’t yet reached your destination but it appeared that someone would come and interrupt this. Damn them. A soft ding let you know the doors were about to open. Your few moments of alone time with him was coming to an end.

Baekhyun was still talking though; still lost inside his own head and caught up in the dread of the upcoming changes you both would need to adjust to.

“I sound pathetic, don’t I?” You had to look away from his face but from your peripherals you caught the small step he took in your direction as he moved closer to you.

“Baekhyun, someone is coming in.” You didn’t have time to reassure him that this feeling he was going through was not something he was alone in. You also felt the loneliness and the ache to touch him. You were also feeling the sense of dread for the upcoming weeks without him by your side.

But right now was not the time. Not with this camera above both of your heads and the elevator doors about to open and whoever it was that had called the elevator was about to walk in.

A few simultaneous sensations happened. You could feel the jolt as the elevator came to a full stop and, at the same time, Baekhyun’s soft fingertips brushed against the back of your hand. He had taken another step it seemed and he was beside you; his wandering hand reaching down to run a slow path over your skin down the back of your hand. You felt the moment his fingers wrapped around your palm and slipped lower as each fingertip slipped just in-between your own fingers.

You had to pull away. The doors opened.

You pulled your hand out of his grip quickly, if not a bit forcefully, and you stepped away at the same time; putting a good two steps worth of distance between the two of you. You brought your hands in front of you and clasped them together and you looked up just in time to make eye contact with a terrifyingly familiar set of brown eyes. Brown eyes that bore a strikingly frightening resemblance to the very same brown eyes that had been burning a hole into your heart all day long.

You were sure the first few moments of the eye contact, you had a look of absolute panic. You were certain he would have seen fear in your eyes.

You did your best to push a smile to your face. Inside of your chest your heartbeat had jolted to life, sending thundering booms through your entire torso. You felt the trembling from it. You swallowed nervously and you could hardly hear your own words from your lips over the echo of your racing heart inside of your eardrums.

“President Byun,” you said softly; wincing internally at just how terrified you sounded as you said his name. “Lovely to see you, Sir.”

Your greeting earned you a curt head nod and his eyes immediately moved to touch upon his son’s face.

“What floor?” You were closest to the buttons and you inhaled through your parted lips and forced the air back out slowly, desperately hoping your question hadn’t sounded stupid. He was the president and every one knew his offices occupied the top floor.

“Top?” Your finger hovered over the button and your nervous question another swift nod of his head. He spared you only a fraction of his attention before he was standing beside Baekhyun, who kept his eyes fixed securely on the closing elevator doors.

The doors closed and you stepped back, holding your hands together in front of your abdomen so they wouldn't tremble and give away the raging anxiety that was surging through you right now.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You knew seeing his father again after all that had transpired between you and Baekhyun would bring some strong emotions but you were having about as strong a reaction as you could take quietly. It was the suddenness of this.

You kind of just wanted to run away from this. Yet you were trapped inside this moving box with these two men who hadn’t spoken a word to each other despite sharing a familial bond, sharing a bloodline, sharing a home for most of Baekhyun’s life, you couldn't help but notice that Baekhyun hadn’t even said hello to the man. Nor had the man said anything to his son, but the two of them merely stood side by side in this elevator and looked ahead with blank and passive faces.

You felt a tickle in your throat. It was the nerves. You fought the urge to cough and quickly realized it was useless and you turned your head a little and cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself of the annoying feeling without actually coughing inside a closed elevator in a time when coughing in public was a major faux pas.

The sound of your own throat cleaning was timed perfectly with the sound of President Byun’s feet as he took a single step forward so that he was standing ahead of the both of you and he inhaled a breath into his lungs to speak out loud into the space right in front of his face.

“I have received some very interesting news this morning,” President Byun said in a steady and confident voice without any flinching in his body language to favor one side of him or another. There was nothing given to indicate that he was speaking to any one of you in particular.

“What is that, Sir,” Baekhyun said; at last acknowledging his father. You couldn't find the nerve to get your own voice to work. You held your breath and then tried your best to keep your breathing steady and even. You felt the slight pain in the back of your hand as your nails gripped hard into your own flesh.

He didn’t turn around to look at either of you when he spoke again, he merely inhaled a breath, opened his mouth and dropped a bomb right on top of both of your heads.

“I heard that you think … that you’re getting married.”

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 15

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Dr. Miller had been right. It’s amazing laying in bed watching the snow fall down at you from above. I stared up through the oversized skylight, if that’s what it was, and stared as the collection of snowflakes coated the glass. An outdoor light illuminated the area making it all the more enchanting.

My body ached and my heart was full. Dr. Miller kissed across the tops of my breasts in the darkness and I secured him there with an arm around the top of his back.

“I could just stay up here watching the snow fall for days,” I said quietly. “I could be like your own.. Rapunzel.”

He laughed against my skin and then cradled himself behind me, letting his fingers dance in circles around my bellybutton. I curled my knees up toward my chest and a chill ran down my back. I didn’t think my body could handle it if he touched me again. I didn’t think I’d had a limit, but my body was tastefully sexed out.

“Someone came to the house today,” Dr. Miller said into my ear.

My weary eyes flickered open and I smiled smally to myself in the darkness, pleased that he told me.

“When?”

“When my phone went off earlier and I left for a bit.” He brushed the hair away from my neck and left a single kiss there. “It was something for work.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure if I should press for details or simply let him say whatever he wanted to say about it.

Dr. Miller held me closer, securing my back against his chest. Our fingers linked on the mattress. “I have to leave for a couple of hours.”

I turned my head part way and then managed to flip my body around so we were face-to-face on the pillow. “Why?”

He pulled me on top of him. “There’s just something I have to do.” Dr. Miller looked away for a moment and his hand slid across the small of my back. “I know that’s vague..” It took a few seconds but he looked back to me. The apologetic puppy eyes had me locked in place and I managed to crack a smile.

“Another woman?” I joked, though I wanted to see his reaction.

Dr. Miller’s eyebrows pressed together and he grew serious, but I silenced him before he could speak with a kiss.

“I’m kidding,” I whispered.

“You’re all I’ve been able to think about since I’ve met you,” he confessed, not smiling back. Dr. Miller's hand found my face again and then moved to my hair. I could tell he had a thing about playing with my hair and I loved it. “Besides, I don’t think I could get my dick up right now if I tried.”

When I giggled he finally smirked and leaned up to plant a hard, closed-mouth kiss on my already aching lips.

“You have successfully worn me out,” Dr. Miller added, wrapping both arms around me as we continued a sensual, little makeout session.

“I know the feeling.” I smiled at him and then left a breath against his lips. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here.”

“I’m sorry.”

Don’t be.” I told him, “You have a life.”

“And I’m glad you’ve become a part of it.”

“Me, too.”

We kissed again and Dr. Miller stayed close for a few extra seconds before reluctantly slinking out of bed. I couldn't help but stare at him in his purest, most vulnerable form.

He clicked on a light beside the bed and handed over a remote for the television on the wall across the room. “You don't have to stay up here, but if you're comfortable and want to get some sleep, I'll be back soon.”

The oversized clock on the wall read ten forty-five. I sighed and hugged one of the pillows, rolling onto my side.

“I'll probably just stay in here and go to sleep soon.” My eyes drifted up toward the ceiling. The snow had picked up again. “Please be careful driving.”

“I'm taking the truck.” Dr. Miller put both hands on the bed and leaned back down to touch his lips to mine. “Get some rest.”

“Hurry back.” I half-smiled and we kissed another time. He gripped my fingers between his own before slinking out of the room and down the stairs.

When Dr. Miller physically left the room, I realized how badly I didn't want him to go. I suddenly realized that I was in too deep. I was too wrapped up in this; in him. Being away from him after such an emotionally driven, sexually charged morning and afternoon left my chest cavity feeling empty.

Why do I want to cry? Nothing was wrong. Dr. Miller would be back soon, but there would be a time sooner than later when I would have to leave his mansion to go back to real life. I didn't want to. I was wrapped up, caught up and already longing for his company ninety seconds after he left the room.

When I heard the alarm system click on, I rose to my feet and felt a chill as I wandered toward the window to look out. A few minutes passed before the oversized black pickup truck rolled through the driveway, kicking up snow, and drove down toward the main gates. And then he was gone. Gone to parts unknown. Parts he couldn't talk about.

I need a reality check. I need to chill out.

I took a deep breath and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers all the way up. Deep down I knew something was off. This wasn't normal - at all. No part of this was normal. But I wanted it. I wanted Dr. Miller and the way he looked at me; the way he spoke to me and pampered me and touched me.

I tried to go to sleep, because I knew if I did that I would wake to him being there - beside me. My stomach was in knots and I kept trying to ignore it. I was happy but I needed some kind of emotional release. Still, I talked myself off the crying ledge and managed to get myself together with a series of deep breaths.

What is wrong with me? I took a final exhale and ordered my mind to turn off, but the collection of scenarios is made up in my head of what Dr. Miller was doing out in the middle of the night made that impossible.

I didn't know when I had fallen asleep. It had to have been hours before I finally dozed off. I only realized I had fallen asleep when a noise from down the staircase woke me up.

I immediately sprung up in bed, looking around the dark room. “Hello?” It was three-thirty. Dr. Miller wasn't back yet. My hand fell to the empty part of the bed beside me.

My heart rate picked up and I took a breath before climbing out of bed. I searched around for my clothes but I realized I'd left them down in the living room all of those hours before.

“Shit.” I whispered to myself as I tiptoed around the room. When my eyes landed on a white bathrobe hanging in front of a closet it felt like a small victory.

I threw on the robe and then headed to the staircase, leaving little creaks behind me as I descended down. I wanted to call out for Dr. Miller. Why wasn't he home yet? Or maybe he was and he just hadn't come back upstairs.

The door at the bottom of the stairs was closed and when I finally felt for the doorknob in the darkness it didn't turn. I twisted it left and right, slowly at first and then with more urgency.

“Dr. Miller?” I twisted the handle back and forth, back and forth. More frantically now. I smacked a hand on the center of it with three loud bangs. “Dr. Miller?” I shouted a little louder.

I twisted and turned. I pounded. I shouted. The door wouldn't budge. And like my clothes, I hadn't bothered to bring my phone back upstairs. It was still in the living room. I had no way of even getting in touch with him.

“Dr. Miller!” I shouted his name again. Was he even home, or was I shouting to no one. My hand turned the knob again, back and forth, back and forth.

I looked around the darkness, my body spun in a complete circle and I felt the walls hoping there was another secret room or trap door or something. There wasn't.

I banged on the door one last time with both fists. When it flung open I stumbled forward and nearly screamed, falling into Dr. Miller's chest.

“Hey,” he breathed heavily and caught me. “Are you okay?”

“I couldn't get out.” My voice was still choppy and panicked.

“The door handle gets stuck sometimes.” He pulled me into his arms and I closed my eyes when I felt the warmth radiating off his chest. I could tell from his scent and the slick nature of his hair that he had just showered.

I couldn't control my breathing after the short panic attack I'd just had. My eyes closed and I tried to calm myself in his embrace.

“It's okay.” Dr. Miller stroked down the back of my hair and held me close in the hallway. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have closed it. I didn't mean to scare you.”

When he left a kiss on the top of my head I felt my body relax a bit.

“I'm sorry. I just heard a noise and woke up, and you weren't there.” I pulled back a little to glance up at him but Dr. Miller still held me close.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.” I shook my head and stared at him. Something was wrong. I could see it on his face and he couldn't hide it. And so I decided to just ask him. “What's wrong?”

Dr. Miller's eyes moved back and forth as he studied me for a moment and then he pulled me back against him. His arms engulfed my smaller frame and I hugged him back.

“You can talk to me,” I assured him in a little whisper.

His hand danced up and down my back and then he held me a little harder. Something was up. I could tell from his body language.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

Dr. Miller let out a deep exhale and whispered back. “Come to bed with me.”

“Okay.” I looked back up and I pushed up onto my toes to leave a kiss on his lips. When his stoic expression didn't change, I touched his face. “Are you okay?”

He reached for my hand without answering and pulled me with him toward the open door of his bedroom. When he slunk into bed, he pulled me with him and I let the robe slink of my shoulders to the floor.

Dr. Miller laid down with his head against my bare chest just below my breasts and wrapped an arm around my midsection.

I didn't ask him again if something was wrong. I just held him there against me in the darkness. We didn't speak, but neither of us fell asleep until the early morning hours.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17

[peterparkersnose]

Christmas Vibes

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: nostalgia, age gap, horrible attempt to capture joel’s accent (fuck), just christmas fluff :)

a/n this kicks off my joel stories in preperation for tlou show on hbo max starting jan 15! enjoy and have a happy holidays. please tell me you understand the vibe aspect (triangle, purple, thursday, the number 4, blueberry pie) bc if not i am just really undiagnosed. 

summary Joel tries to make Christmas special for Y/N once again

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 4 mins 59 seconds

“It’s snowing,” you sighed, looking at your reflection in your window. The street lamp lights outside were plagued with the falling snow.

“Never liked winter,” Joel shuttered, taking off his jeans. You heard his belt clank as it hit the hamper. “Really? Not even Christmas?” you asked, playing with a strand of your hair with your gaze still locked outside.

“Sarah always loved it. I liked seeing her happy so I tolerated it.” Joel sighed. You could see the reflection of his flannel pajama pants in the window. You were touched that he mentioned Sarah. He rarely did. Even if you slept in the same room with that eerie photo of the two of them together staring at you, you never dared pushing the subject.

“What did she like?” you asked, testing the waters. “Hmm,” Joel thought. “When she was real young she loved Santa. Her grandpa would come around every year dressed up as ‘em. I’ll never forget her face every year when he would come.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. “I miss Christmas.” you sighed, sitting down next to Joel in the bed. “How many did you get? Before…”

“12.” you sighed. “My mom would always go out and cut us down a tree. I sometimes think about the smell of a real tree. It’s much different when the tree is in the woods versus your living room. I miss it. Every time it gets cold like this, my memories come back and it makes me hate this damned broken world even more.” you sighed, laying down on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“We always had fake trees,” Joel commented, flicking off the lamp. He was unsure on how to respond to you, so he tried to take your mind off the bitterness of the memories.

“You give fake tree vibes.” you told Joel, reaching for his hand in the sheets. “How can one give fake tree vibes?” “You just do.” “Explain?” he asked, grabbing your hand tightly “There’s no explanation. Just like how Maria gives off former yoga teacher vibes,”

He stopped and thought for a moment. “Well I’ll be damned, she really do.” “Told ya.” “Go to sleep,” he sighed. “She most definitely had a pixie cut when the world wasn’t shit,” you added.

“Where does your mind come up with these things?” Joel chuckled. “Ellie and I had a very intense conversation about it on patrol a few days ago. Just like how Tommy gives off cinnamon raisin bread vibes.”

“Stop that,” Joel insisted, shuffling in bed. “It’s too accurate. Freakin’ me out.”

“Maybe she has a dragonfly tattoo too. Somewhere special where only Tommy knows. Very yoga teacher-ish.”

“Go to bed Y/N.” Joel huffed, slamming his eyes shut.

Joel didn’t even know why he was doing this. He didn’t even like Christmas when the world was still normal.

But he liked you sure of a hell lot more than he hated Christmas.

His back ached as he dragged the tree through the gates of Jackson. He had picked out the greenest tree he could find and cut it down. The horse would have been useless with a close to 120 pound tree (he estimated).

“Need some help?” Tommy chuckled, arms crossed amused watching his brother lug in a tree. “S’pose I could,” he hissed at him, dragging the stem of the tree against the dirt ground. “All this for a woman?” Tommy asked, lifting the muddy end of the tree. “Your tellin’ me you wouldn’t do this for Maria?” “Maria wouldn’t want it,” “Well if she did?”

Tommy paused for a second to think. “Hell no,”

The tree barely fit in the door to your house. Joel cringed at all the needles he was going to have to pick up after this.

“Got her in?” Tommy asked, entering the house with the end of the tree still in his grips.

Tommy saw the makeshift tree holder and set the tree in the metal hole. Joel propped it up, holding the tree up for Tommy to bolt the tree to the metal plate.

The two of them now out of breathe took a step back to see the enormous tree.

“I think you may have underestimated the size of your house, big brother.” Tommy said, patting Joel on the back.

Joel’s eyes were glued to the top of the tree pressed against the ceiling and jutting outward.

His arms were crossed with one hand rubbing his brow. “She’s gonna hate it,” he muttered. “I think it’s rather cute. Quirky if you ask me. She likes that shit, don’t she?” Tommy re assured his brother.

“Should I cut it?” Joel asked. “Nah. You went out and did the dirty work. If she doesn’t appreciate it, she doesn’t deserve it. I always got a lighter if you need it.” he suggested.

Joel swept the needles up from the ground in preparation of your return. You had spent the day distracted by Ellie. The kids were having a winter festival down in the square and you two were volunteering.

Joel most definitely owed Ellie one after this.

He found the red and green blankets from storage and placed them on the couch. Holiday decorations were rare to find (minus halloween) and he was trying his best.

He was in the middle of fluffing the pillows when he heard the old door creek open.

A sudden gasp came from you as your hand clasped over your mouth. “What is this?” you asked, a smile widening on your face.

“I know it ain’t perfect, I didn’t measure right but it’s…”

“Joel, it’s perfect.” you insisted, wrapping your hands around the man who was cowering in embarrassment. “It’s too tall, the tree ain’t right.”

“Shh,” you shushed him, wrapping an arm around his rib cage. “I love it,” you muffled into his chest.

“Oh!” you said, suddenly realizing what you had done that day.

You and Ellie had made strings of snowflakes all day with the kids.

The white paper cut outs strung perfectly around the tree.

“Careful there,” Joel said, balancing you as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the top. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready for-”

Joel hoisted you up by your waist erupting a squeal from you. “Joel!” you laughed, squirming in his reach.

“String…‘em,” he demanded with his raspy voice, struggling holding you in his grip. As you strung the paper around the branches, needles dropped down. Specifically on Joel.

“What are you doing?” you asked after hearing the noise of Joel spitting. “Them damn needles- in my face.” he grunted, finally letting you down.

A tiny laugh came from you as you faced him once again. “What’s so funny?” he asked. You carefully plucked the stray needles out of his bushy eyebrows, making sure they didn’t fall in his eyes. “All better now,” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m surprised your not covered in sap,” you commented, sitting down on your comfy couch in Joel’s arms. You handed him his cup of coffee. “Showered ‘for you got home,”

“What if I wanted you covered in sap?” you asked, staring up at the tree. “What?” Joel asked, confused. “So I could have washed it off of ya.”

Joel sucked his teeth. “It’s a damn shame,” he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And you brought this in all by yourself?” you asked, grabbing Joel’s bicep. “Mhm,” he lied, taking Tommy’s credit. “My strong man,” you said, folding closer into his body.

“Thank you, Joel.” you sighed, remembering the previous night. “It’s just like old times.” “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“It gives off Christmas vibes,” Joel said, very proud of himself. “Yes Joel, sure. It gives Christmas vibes.” You chuckled, enamored at his attempt to understand your humor.

“Just like how Ellie gives off the vibe that she can only wear red socks on a Friday.”

“Stop that shit already,”

“And how when the world wasn’t like this, Tommy probably had shit credit.”

“He did,” Joel laughed. “Stop it now, your still freaking me out.”

“You brought it up!”

“Yeah, because it was funny when I did it.”

“Yes Joel. Hilarious.”

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

[justrainandcoffee]

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) part 9

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Summary: During the 72th Hunger Games, Panem meets Heaven Lavey the girl apparently angelical from district 7. But the eyes of the country are also on District 9, not just because they are the last winners but because of its tributes. The youngest of this edition Desirée and Charles, 12 years old. And twins. || Rose finally meets Aberama Gold. || The rebellion finds its symbol.

Warnings: The usual. Violence and death but it's not graphic (I tried, I couldn't write it.)

Words: 3.2 k || I think you need to listen to this song because I mentioned its lyrics here.

A mother is crying. A father, also devastated, is trying to comfort his wife and oldest daughter. District 9 is moaning the death of its tributes. As always but this time it hurt. This time it was cruel. The 72th games finished with a victor from district 7. A pretty girl called Heaven whose name didn't match what she did in the Arena.

The thing is that no one is blaming the girl, clearly traumatized, but the voices claim for Coriolanus Snow's head. And at the same time Coriolanus Snow wants the head of the the director of the gamemakers.

Contrary to the people, Snow receives what he wants.

Everything happened in just two weeks.

15 days earlier.

Rose was in her studio when she saw the tributes from district 9. She was used to see girls like Nina. Thin, around 15-17 years old. Or boys around the same age, usually taller than their counterparts but more or less the same height, some a bit heavier. But the difference between different tributes along the years she had been working on the games were minimal. That's why she prepared the costumes with anticipation. Usually very few things needed to be fixed when they wore the clothes for the first time.

But now…

12 years old, both of them.

Desirée Goldwyn was reaped first. Rose never saw such small girl before, she seemed around 10. She was scared and had her eyes full of tears. No one volunteered to help her. Of course not. No one of the girls were staring at Desirée as she walked to the stage where Alissa was waiting for her. Rose saw the forced smile the woman had in her face

The unexpected happened next.

A boy name Alexander Thomas was reaped. But a voice prevented him to follow Desirée steps.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

For a moment Rose's heart stopped. And she was sure that Alfie and Nina had the same thought as her in that infamous second.

No.

Desirée Goldwyn had a dark brown curly hair and intense green eyes. The boy, had the same hair and eyes. Also the same height and probably weight.

Alexander Thomas saw the boy, clearly younger than him, walked very decided to the stage. Alex would never have the chance to thank him.

"A volunteer!" said Alissa "What's your name, darling?"

"Charles. Charles Goldwyn. And Desirée is my twin."

.

Twins.

The Capitol exploded. Even before their arrival, the Goldwyn twins were the sensation of the games. Pure innocence, a fraternal love so strong that the boy decided to accompany his sister to the Arena. The fact that they were pretty helped a lot. They were exactly what The Capitol wanted and they received two.

Rose hid her face in her hands, before throwing the things over her table in one fell swoop, screaming in frustration at the same time. Frustration and anger weren't enough to describe her mood. Every single kid that she dressed had a special place in her heart. And nightmares. But the image of those twins that seemed to be younger than 12, were devastated.

They didn't have a chance. Not a single one.

.

Alfie was in silence in the train. He was facing the landscapes that by now he knew by heart, listening to the kids.

"I'm going to protect you," was saying Charles. "I'm quick! I can distract them so they can't touch you!"

"You should stay with mom and dad. And Leo," she said refering to Leonela, their older sister only 14. "Who's going to feed the chickens?"

"Mommy can do it, De! And Leo, too! Leo can help dad, too! And when you come back home, they're not going to worry about anything else."

"Don't say that!" Desirée had her eyes full of tears, too "You're going to come home, too, Charlie!"

"You know there's only one victor, De."

Nina and Alfie stared at each other. What do you say to two kids, twins, who were together from the moment of their conception, that one of them is going to die? That with the odds on their favour. But as Alfie knew very well, odds were never on their favour.

"So," Nina interrupted forcing the kids to think other things "what are your talents? Caesar likes to know what makes you happy!"

"Desirée is a good singer," Charles said to her "our nana always sang us a song when we were kids and then taught her how to sing. She tried to teach me too, but she gave up."

Nina chuckled and smiled at the boy "so, sing us something, Desirée."

[When I was a little girl, my mama said to me

"What's your favorite flower, darling? I'll get you the seed"

I said "Dandelion, Dandelion," that one's so pretty

She said, "Child, that one's not a flower, that one's just a weed"]

Alfie turned his head to listen to the girl. She indeed had a pretty voice.

["You can't stop me multiplying

No, you don't want me in your garden

Dandelion, Dandelion.

Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey

So I took a breath

and made a wish and blew them all away."]

"That's a pretty song, Desirée," said Nina.

"Our nana always said that her grandmother sang it to her and probably for generations. I always liked it."

"Leo, our sister," said Charles "sing it every time she sees a dandelion in our little backyard."

"I'd do the same," said Nina smiling again to both kids.

Alfie watched at his former mentee and asked himself if Nina also thought that the twins had any chance against the careers. No matter how quick Charles said he was.

.

The Capitol was excited to see the new tributes face to face, as always. But this time was a morbid pleasure behind it. Were the twins really that young? Were them really that precious?

The voices inside the building were disgusting. An hour after the reaping she already saw people trying to bet on them. Their faces were in every screen. People cheered every time that the reaping was repeated.

With her blood boiling, she went to the ninth floor and picked up some of the cookies that a month ago Alfie, and also Nina, baked when they went to their monthly visit to the Capitol. The cookies were in a perfectly closed jar so they were good. She picked up only five. And using a tweezers delicately put a piece of paper inside all of them.

Those cookies had a destination. Rose put them in a box and went to the post office.

Communication between districts were highly forbidden but inside the Capitol people were allowed to send packages or letters. And for few years she kept certain address just for her. It was time to used it.

.

A little cardboard box with his name on it was what Aberama Gold received when the sun was going down. It wasn't uncommon for him to received packages. But usually those were clandestine and contained guns. This one was from the official post office and it had just five cookies.

Soon Aberama understood that they were more than cookies and that the person behind that was important. Five little papers that formed a message:

We need to talk. Send your answer, same way you received this. To the tribute centre. Rosebeth Evert.

Aberama Gold didn't trust the ones involved in the games. And Mrs. Evert's face was in every news since district 9 won the previous games. He knew who she was. And he also knew that the woman was one of the very few members of the Capitol who were allowed to be part of the auction.

So why, such lady wanted to talk to him? And way she used such cryptic way yo do it?

He considered a trap. Wasn't Mrs. Evert, Snow's personal stylist? Aberama was sure of that. If she wanted to open a shop, Aberama was sure that people from the Capitol would kill for her clothes. But Mrs. Evert had a low profile and only appeared during the games.

Still, Aberama Gold ordered to his cook to bake some cookies and he left a message for her inside them.

"Five days after the games. Under the bridge. Go alone. Promise you'll be safe. A.G"

.

Alfie, Nina, the kids and Alissa arrived the next morning. As always people, citizens and those working there, were more annoying than usual.

Rose spent big part of the day adjusting the costumes and ordering every one around her in the studio to remain calm.

"You're going to be the most beautiful tributes ever," she said to them when finally they were ready. The same hairdresser that visited district 9 with her six months ago was the one in charge of comb their hair. Although Rose forbid the makeup artist to put anything on them to make them look older. The public wanted kids, she was going to give them kids.

Exactly what they were: just children.

She only found time to talk to Alfie only at night after the parade and when finally the city was in silence. There, in his bedroom, she could confess to him that she finally communicated with Aberama Gold.

"But he didn't answer yet," she said. "If he doesn't give me an answer soon, I'm going to visit him."

"It's dangerous."

"It is but I reached my limit, Al. We're going to see these kids die. You know that. You know they don't stand a chance."

"Do you trust him?"

"I trust no one here. They'd sell you to Snow for a corn chip but I need powerful people, too I can't do this alone. We can't. Do I have other options? No. It's the best I can do, love," Rose sighed deeply "how are you, Al?"

"I'm tired, luv. I'm very tired of everything. The only thing we can do is to expect the best."

"And that means…?"

"Hope, I guess."

She snuggled up against him and closed her eyes "Hope. I like that word. I really liked that word."

.

As expected the twins had no extraordinary ability. They couldn't throw knives, they didn't know how to use a bow. Nina commented that Desirée knew how to make traps because her father taught her. That's how they trapped rabbits and another little animals. Charles was right that he was quick, so Alfie spent some hours teaching him how to use a blade. Maybe he'd hurt some other tribute as he was running away. But they couldn't do more than that. Not with the careers showing themselves like peacocks around the arena.

And three days weren't enough to teach them how to kill.

The Arena was a foggy forest. The Cornucopia was made of wood covered with moss. Alfie always said the same to his kids "run away from there" some listened to him and others, like Nina, did not. But fortunately for the twins they did listen to him.

The bloodbath was always terrible and deadly. But this time…

That blonde girl from 7, Heaven Lavey, was the first one to be noticed as a menace despite her score wasn't that high. Alfie remembered that years ago, Lucy spoke about a tribute really unhinged and it seemed to be that the prophecy was true. It was cruel to say the least.

The careeers survived, same as the twins and tributes from other districts but compared to other games, the number of survivors was low.

All Panem witnessed the dawn of the third day. Heaven Lavey killed two careers in the same moment and by now the number of victims rise to eight. And she was about to add two more.

The twins were hiding in the bushes. They survived eating berries that weren't toxic but it wasn't enough. Charles was hugging Desirée who was incredible dehydrated. He too, but his sister was in worse condition.

"Sing to me, De," Charles said. "The song about dandelions."

"I can't. I think I'm going to die, Charlie."

"You're not, De. After the song I promise to search for water. Just sing to me, De."

And the girl did. And whole Panem listened to the song.

Charles knew better than people could think. No one knew Desirée the same way the boy knew her. And although young, he was old enough to know about death.

"I found a real dandelion," Charles said picking up the puffy flower "Make a wish, De."

"I want the games over," she said and blew it away.

Not long after that the deadly Heaven found them. They were still hugging each other when they died. Together they came to the world, together they left.

Some people said that in district 9, a woman cried so loud that some near mockingjays mimicked her screams and soon the whole district was hearing the lament of mother who witnessed her children being murdered.

Five days after the games.

The night is warm and calm. After the games it seemed that people disappeared. And that year in particular was a very agitated event.

[You can't stop me multiplying.]

The song is in her head sounding like an infinite record player.

Rose left her car parked far away from the bridge that Aberama Gold mentioned and walked all the remaining blocks to that place.

Now, under the yellow streetlight she sees everything around her. She feels eyes on her although she can see no one. Probably they're spying on her to see if she's alone.

Fifteen minutes later, Rose sees a man wearing a hat walking towards her. He's wearing a brown coat despite the hot night. Rose doesn't know Mr. Gold but she knows it's him. She asks herself if the man has a gun hiding there. She knows that's very possible.

"Mrs. Evert," says Aberama approaching her, shaking her hand.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"I was here before your arrival, Mrs. Evert. I was just waiting, I'm sorry but I needed to know you were alone."

"I'm risking my own life coming here, Mr. Gold. Not because of you but him. So, I'm not that stupid to ruin my only chance to get help. We need to talk alone, please."

"What do you have to offer?"

"Not here. I'm not going to talk unless I'm sure we're on the same side, Mr. Gold."

"I'd say the same. I do not offer my help to anyone."

"A person you trust gave me the address to locate you, thanks that they trust the same person as I do. No one against this hell here can survive alone, Mr. Gold. We're part of the same chain. It just happens that not all the links know each other."

Aberama snorts and with his head orders her to follow him. That poor side of the Capitol reminds her of district 8. Grey buildings, dirty streets… Last year, during Nina's tour, when they stopped in that district, that was the first time in over a decade that she visited her birthplace. And it wasn't easy. Her mother and brothers were near as ever since then but she couldn't visit them. It hurt her to know that for example last time she saw her baby brother Louis was 8 years old and now he was a 24 years old man. She couldn't recognise him and probably for him, his own sister was a complete stranger. She didn't regret her choice to leave her house to help them, but she paid a high price when she did it.

Aberama invites her to enter into an old house. Its walls are covered by vines and it seems to be an abandoned place but as soon as he opens the door, she sees that it's in perfect conditions. There's a young man there, too.

"That's my son, Bonnie," he says. "Bonnie, she's Mrs. Evert."

After offering something to drink and a chair, Aberama sits down in front of her. After looking at him for one last time time, she finally shows to someone else what she has. Rose is still restless. What if…

And yet, she knows that she can't do this alone. The folders and papers she collected over the years are now in other hands.

"You did this alone?" he asks.

"But I can't do more."

"Ma'am, I don't know how to say this but this is a lot."

"Not enough," she insists. "If we want to start phase two, we need more than that. I need people, smart people. The kind of people you can find in district 3, those who know how to do this."

"When do you want to finish this?"

"Three years. Two and a half. We're going to sabotage the Quarter Quell, Mr. Gold."

"Then you need to know something that probably you don't know, but I do," Aberama opens a drawer and pulls out a cardboard folder that gives to her. Blueprints and a map are there "if we want to fuck Snow, I'm not enough, you're not enough. My people isn't enough… do you want this? Play bigger, Mrs. Evert. Go to district 13."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

And it's that night, that moment in the Gold's household that she learns that District 13 is still alive. Rose learns about the pact between the capitol and the rebel district. The nuclear weapons… and Chester Campbell.

"They have a president?"

"Same way we have ours. No one chose him, but he's there. I don't know him personally, but I heard things about Campbell."

"And what do you think?"

"I think, if I were you I'd approach him the same way a mouse approaches a cat. In his own favour, Snow is charismatic he'll let you talk. Campbell is… well, more complicated. At least he's not Snow."

"Are there any other options?"

"No."

"I don't want his hands on this, Mr. Gold. I don't give a fuck if he's the president of Lostland. I'm trusting you with this, the afterwards is up to District 13 if you want but this? Just us and your people."

Aberama scratches his chin and offers his hand to her "I give you my word that this is just our mission, Mrs. Evert. This part, but we're going to need their help."

"It's fine. We have a deal. We sabotage the games and they take care of the rest. Burn everything once is over, Mr. Gold the good thing about papers is that can be consumed by fire."

"I'm a professional," smiles the man.

"In six months, I'm going to contact you again. I'm sure you know that I'm part of the auction. But I'm not part of them. I'm not them. I'm not my husband."

"I can see that. I see you in six months, Mrs. Evert."

"Use the cookies," she says before leaving his house.

"I will. Goodnight."

A single dandelion is in middle of the street growing up in the pavement. She takes it and blows it all away. The seeds fly with the wind.

[You can't stop me multiplying.]

Fascinating that rebellion found their symbol in something so simple and mundane as a dandelion. But it was also a powerful thing. Growing up were it shouldn't.

[You don't want me in your garden.]

Snow was walking through his garden full of white roses, thinking about the girl named Heaven and the twins.

The twins and their song.

[You don't want me in your garden.]

There in middle of his roses dozens of dandelions were growing up. Imperceptible under the beautiful flowers. But they were there.

And in every district.

“Make a wish, De.”

“I want the games over.”

Hundreds. Millions of dandelions around Panem. Stronger than ever, even if in the eyes of the Capitol, people from the districts were just weed.

[You can't stop me multiplying.]

And it was just the beginning.

Next

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x10 The New Neverland

(gif by just-be-magnificent.tumblr.com)

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 736

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian sat brooding on his bar stool at Granny’s diner nursing a mug of beer.  As he watched Emma converse with her lad, his heart sank.  He loved her, wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in centuries.  He wanted to be with her, be the man she came home to at the end of the evening, the man she confided in, loved, gazed at adoringly, the man she allowed in her life and in her bed.

But more than anything, he wanted to see her happy.  They understood each other, that was true enough.  Though the circumstances couldn’t have been more different, their lives were similar in a heartbreaking way.  Like him, she’d seen too much pain, too much hurt, too much fighting just to survive.  He deserved the fate he had, but she didn’t.  She deserved everything, every happiness life had to offer.

Even if it wasn’t with him.

He’d had hopes when they were in Neverland that he could be a part of that happy future with her–especially after the earth-shattering kiss they’d shared.  He’d been quite serious about pursuing her, courting her, winning her heart honestly and with no trickery.

But it had all been a beautiful but unattainable dream–as odd as it was to have one of those on a land seemingly built on nightmares.

He’d seen that clearly as soon as the Roger had touched down upon the waters of Storybrooke and his passengers had disembarked.  He hadn’t expected a ceremony in his honor, effusive speeches of gratitude.  He hadn’t even really expected thanks, but he had hoped for…something.  Some acknowledgement, some camaraderie, some, any, sense of belonging in the group of triumphant heroes.

For a split second, he thought he’d get it.  The lady Snow had spoken of someone they needed to give credit, someone they needed to thank, and his heart had lept, thinking it was he of whom she spoke.

But he should have known better.  It was Regina who was the focus of her gratitude.

No, Killian could see it clearly at that moment.  Pan had been right.  He was, and would ever be in their eyes, nothing but a pirate, a villain, someone with whom they could make temporary alliances when the situation called for it, but someone to never truly trust or allow within their inner circle.

He couldn’t blame them, truly.  He’d spent centuries committing the vilest of acts in pursuit of his revenge.  There was far too much in his ledger that he could never wipe out.  Swan deserved someone worthy of her.  Henry deserved a better father figure.

Whether or not Neal fit the bill, he didn’t know.  Swan hadn’t given him details of how Baelfire had hurt her, but it was clear he had, deeply so.  Perhaps the wound would prove to be too deep to overcome, but Killian had to give the lad the opportunity to try.  He owed him that much at least.  He would not be the cause of another family breaking apart.

Maybe a miracle would happen.  Maybe in the end, Swan would choose him, but in the meantime, Killian knew what he had to do.  He had to back off for the sake of the boy–both the boy Baelfire had once been, the one Killian had betrayed, and Swan’s own lad.

Aye, perhaps a miracle would happen, but Killian didn’t trust to hope.  He’d long since lost the right to wish for miracles.

Note:  Grrr!  If there’s one thing (other than Neal just being…well…NEAL) that makes me crazy about 3x10, it’s the fact that the heroes just seem to dismiss Killian.  Look at what he did for them: He went back to Neverland, the place he’d spent centuries of the worst years of his life.  He chose to bury the hatchet and work with his sworn enemy.  He’d offered his ship and his services for as long as they needed them, and in exchange?  In exchange they took it all for granted, not even thanking him, barely even acknowledging his presence.  They’ll give Regina credit for the role she played in saving Henry, but they won’t even acknowledge the far greater role Killian played, and it just makes me both sad and angry for him.  Thus this fic.  We know Killian suffers from a good deal of self-loathing.  This is what I assume led to his decision to back off when it comes to Emma.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[angelwithnightmares]

19 minutes and 17 seconds of reasons why I love Byler so much.

Songs:

“Hearing” by Sleeping at Last

“Holland” by Novo Amor

“Wait” by M83

“Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last

“Complex” by Katie Gregson-MacLeod

The reasons:

1. Will can’t lie to Mike, not even small white lies

2. Their relationship is in focus right from the very start

3. Mike is always the one in focus when it’s about Will

4. Mike feels like he’s the only one who cares about Will

5. When Will’s fake body was found, Mike’s reaction was in focus

6. Mike never stopped believing that Will was alive

7. Mike recognizes Will’s voice instantly

8. When they first met El in the woods, Mike’s first thought was “That’s not Will”

9. ”And we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame was on the other side.”

10. Mike stood up to the bullies when they made homophobic jokes about Will

11. Mike’s father can’t think of him being with a girl

12. Mike’s mother knows and accepts him

13. Mike saves all of Will’s drawings in a binder

14. He even caresses them

15. When Will came back, Mike laid his head on Will’s chest to hear his heart beating

16. Mike and Will is in their happiest state while playing DnD together

17. Mike is the only one who notices Will going away

18. He is also the one who snaps him out of his trance

19. More than once

20. Mike’s voice is softer towards Will than to any other person, aka “The Will voice”

21. Mike immediately notice changes in Will’s behavior

22. Will always screams for Mike when he’s in danger or lost

23. And when he’s hurt

24. Mike says he’s gonna take Will home

25. and he takes him to his basement

26. Will feels like Mike is the only one who understands him

27. When Will listed all the people who like to “baby” him, he doesn’t mention Mike

28. “Only love makes you that crazy”

29. They said they’d go crazy together

30. Mike wants to be a writer, and Will wants to be a comic-book artist (perfect match)

31. Mike worries about Will and insists to be there for him

32. Mike is always the first person next to Will when something happens to him

33. He also sees himself as Will’s personal protector

34. He never left Will’s side when he was possessed

35. Mike slept in an uncomfortable hospital chair to make sure Will was never alone, even though he was possessed

36. Will still rememberers Mike

37. Mike wants to protect Will and be his shield

38. Mike held Will’s hand to give him comfort

39. The hand that Mike held was the only part of Will’s body that wasn’t possessed that wasn’t possessed was the hand Mike held, and this way Will could communicate with them

40. The thumb touch

41. Mike remembered the first day he met Will in detail, even though they were only 5 years old

42. Mike never smiles in pictures, unless Will is there with him

43. Mike’s reaction to Will dancing with a girl on the Snow Ball

44. Will is the best thing that ever happened to Mike

45. They both blush when they’re at the movies together

46. They’re looking at each other’s lips

47. More than once. Mike even got distracted by it

48. Will says he’s not gonna fall in love

49. But he’s already fallen

50. Will smiles when El breaks up with Mike

51. Mike doesn’t seem heartbroken by the break up

52. When Will is upset with Mike he immediately tries to make everything okay again

53. The projection: ”It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”

54. Will admitted he wanted to spend the rest of his life playing games with Mike

55. Twice. He can’t see a future without Mike

56. Will destroys Castle Byers because of Mike’s hurtful words

57. Mike immediately bikes through Hawkins in the thunder storm to apologize and make things right again with Will

58. Mike walked through the dark forest in the rain calling for Will because he was scared something had happened to him again

59. Will donated his DnD game because the game meant nothing without Mike

60. Will promised he won’t join another party

61. Their shared smile

62. Their heartfelt goodbye

63. Hopper’s speech is heavily Mike-coded

64. When Will left, Mike got depressed and stayed in his basement for weeks

65. “Will is painting a lot for someone he likes, maybe it is a girl?” El writes in a letter to Mike

66. When they meet again it’s suddenly very awkward (from Mike’s side) he also immediately asks about the painting

67. Mike is suddenly acting jealous, “ignoring” Will and they share and avoid awkward eye contact

68. Mike asks El if their friends is gonna be where they’re going, and he reacts when Will says “Angela”, so he tries to make Will jealous by kissing El on the temple

69. And he succeeds

70. Will is angry at El for lying to Mike for months and he thinks Mike deserves better

71. Mike thinks Will has sabotaged the whole day because he barely talks to him, rolling his eyes and moping

72. They both feel hurt for not reaching out more, even though Mike actually tried to call Will a bunch of times according to Dustin

73. “We’re friends, we’re friends”, “We used to be BEST friends”

74. Mike thinks home isn’t the same without Will

75. He also admitted that he felt like he had lost Will

76. SCRIPT: “This intimate moment got shattered-“

77. They always gets interrupted when they’re having a moment

78. Mike gets nervous every time Will is close to him or accidentally touches him

79. The flirting, pining & staring

80. Will wants to confess but is afraid Mike won’t like the truth

81. Mike nods. He.. understand what he means?

82. Mike can’t say or write “I love you” to El

83. Mike feels like they can’t come back from that

84. Will’s painting was for Mike

85. Mike’s face drops when Will said the painting was from El

86. He was actually talking about his own feelings for Mike, and how he sees him, with El’s name as a shield because he wanted to reassure him

87. Mike is Will’s heart, he’s making him feel like he’s not a mistake and that he’s better for being different. He don’t want to lose him

88. Will cries in the van because he’s in love with his best friend and don’t know how to tell him, this was the first time he ever lied to Mike

89. The look on Mike’s face when he spots Will after his reunion with El

90. Will thinks Mike and El is happily and in love (from his PoV)

91. When in reality, they really aren’t

92. Will’s brother knows and accepts him

93. Will reminds Mike that he’s the heart, pushing him into confessing his love to save El

94. She doesn’t believe him, but Will does

95. Mike and El are barely talking after the monologue

96. Will tells Mike about Vecna and Mike reassures him (in the most beautiful light we’ve ever seen in the show)

97. Mike is always by Will’s side for the rest of the last episode, foreshadowing the arc of season 5

98. The last shot of season 4 is them paralleling the other canon couples of the show

99. Will is Mike’s light

100. Mike is Will’s light

101. They are perfect together.

[azure-firecracker]

ATLA Live Action Stream of Consciousness (Episode 1, Part 3).

How does Gran Gran know all of this (how does she know that Aang is the avatar?)

I AM SORRY ANIMATED KATARA WOULD NOT GO HIDE BECAUSE SOKKA TOLD HER TO! Yeah character reinterpretation is a thing but no.

Okay Katara’s monologue to Sokka I see her character there she is! And confirmed the problem was the directing because Kiawentiio acted the hell out of that. Now do more of it! I have also seen her energy in interviews and I know she can bring the power if they just…let her.

“Lord of snow and ice” lmao

Zuko continues to be a reckless idiot that’s good (don’t fall for it-proceeds to fall for it)

I wonder if the substitution of “glory” for “honor” has any deeper connotations because those words don’t mean the same thing.

I know the Water Tribe being SO unprepared for war was a key point in the original but I did like the moment with the village kids I thought it was sweet.

Okay Zuko is the one instance so far where I liked someone saying “burn it all down” because I’ve seen all the comments about him being soft and this reminded me that no, he’s still a bad guy for now.

Who told Kiawentiio to stop moving the second Ian Ousley touched her? That struggle (when she’s trying to stop Aang from turning himself in) doesn’t look realistic at all I’ve seen better stage directions in my high school theater productions. Somebody hire new directors.

I know the Aang and Iroh scene is fanservice and I don’t care.

This Iroh is more overtly conflict averse and I like that we may be exploring that some more. I love Iroh but I’m also glad for the chance to get to see some of his flaws.

The transition onto the Water Siblings flying on Appa was awesome and very reminiscent of the cartoon. I don’t personally need this to resemble the cartoon too much in terms of energy because I can tell it’s so different, but those moments are nice.

God Zuko’s room looks like an emo theater kid’s room too.

He has a fucking detective wall it’s my murder mystery fanfic! Wish fulfillment! (Also self plug here’s the only fanfic I’ve ever finished I’m fond of it and you should check it out).

There’s some good old Zuko yelling.

Katara waterbending moment! Nice!

How are there 15 minutes left in the episode?

They’re fitting…another episode in here? Okay.

I’ve seen people say that it doesn’t make sense to have Aang go into the Avatar State when he sees Gyatso’s skeleton since he already knew about the genocide. I think it passes since seeing something is different than hearing about it. I do, however, think that we didn’t need to see the genocide, have Gran Gran tell Aang about the genocide, and see Aang react to Gyatso’s skeleton. One of those (probably the middle one) could have easily been removed to make time for some more character moments or something.

I miss Katara pulling Aang out of the Avatar state. The vision is nice but having it be Katara emphasized the power of friendship and family which they literally did…so why couldn’t they do it in a way that made Katara more useful? Because book 1 Katara already veers in the damsel in distress direction (ish-more so than in later books) without them taking away when she does important things. I did love the Katara/Aang hug though.

THE TRANSITION TO ZUKO WHEN AANG WAS LIKE “THIS WAS MY HOME AND NOW IT’S GONE” NARRATIVE FOILS MY BELOVED!

[capturethechaos]

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Words - 856

Warnings - none, it’s just fluffy af ♡

a/n - saw a tiktok yesterday of the boys doing a cover of 'Watch Me' by Labi Siffre, and immediately made my brain Sam's problem by sending her a fluffy ass idea that had popped into my head... this is the result of that thought ♡ ps. I finished this at like 4:15 this morning, so if you see a grammar and/or spelling error… no you didn’t

It was quiet in the house, the only source of sound coming from you as you washed the dishes. 

You hadn’t realized just how far into your head you had fallen, watching through the kitchen window as a small squirrel journeyed around your backyard, until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Your ears perked up at the sound of quiet humming as Josh shuffled himself as closely as he could against your back. His lips brushed against the back of your ear, and you let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

“Watch me when you call my name. See me sparkle, see me flame.”

A smile came to your face at the sound of his voice.

“Singing a song, playing a game. Oh, I'm so glad you came”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on vocal rest?”

His grip on you loosened only long enough to spin you around to face him, and he simply held a finger to his lips as he continued to sing. 

“Watch me when you look my way. See me smiling, be my night and day.”

His hands left your waist, wrapping around your own hands and lifting one to his shoulder before returning his to your waist, and keeping the other hand entwined with his, and he began to slowly sway.

“Touch me in your own sweet way. Feel me tremble, you take my words away.”

You could hear the smile on his face as he sang, gently swaying the two of you back and forth in the kitchen of your shared home. There was a subtle rasp in his tone, a strain he only felt after a long stint of shows, barely noticeable to most, but it was there. Your head relaxed, softly pressing against his. “You need to rest, Josh.”

He let out an airy chuckle, slowing your movements to a near stop as he leaned back to properly look at you. “Would you hush for a few minutes and let me sing to you, please.”

“I guess.” A playful roll of your eyes punctuated your response, and Josh simply smiled and pulled you closer once again. 

“All of the time, I love you”

The side of his nose brushed against yours as he began to sway, and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, followed by a trail of kisses along your jawline, until his lips finally ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Make you a rhyme, I love you”

The hand Josh had placed on your waist remained, for the most part, unmoving, with the exception of his thumb. You felt the soft pressure of his thumb, gently rubbing back and forth over the worn out cotton of your tee shirt.

“Say it in mine”

He lifted the hand he still held in his own, placing it on his waist before lifting his newly freed hand to your cheek. He put only enough distance between the two of you to look each other in the eyes, and though you could only just barely see his mouth, you could tell that both corners were turned up in a dopey grin. 

“Watch me when I'm on my own, see me falling like the snow. Come and be the things you are. I'm still falling, but not quite so far.”

The last few words became mumbled as Josh pressed his lips against your own in a tender kiss, a kiss you only parted from when you felt your lungs stutter for breath. You remained like that, parted only far enough to draw breath, for as long as it took for each of you to catch your breath… and a few seconds following that, just to grin at each other like lovesick idiots.

“Okay, now it’s time for you to actually relax and do your vocal rest.” Though he chuckled at your statement, he nodded in agreement. 

The two of you made your way into the living room, and he immediately plopped himself down on the couch and reached for the remote. You remained standing, tossing a throw blanket at him before turning to go back to the kitchen. “Where are you going, babe? I thought you were gonna lay down with me.”

You could hear the pout he was wearing, and quickly spun on your heels to turn and look at him. “I’m making you some tea. Now hush, you’re no longer allowed to talk unless it is an absolute emergency.”

He gave you a quick nod, and you took that as your cue to head back to the kitchen to make tea. When you returned, you found Josh with a movie already ready to play, and the blanket thrown only partially over him, leaving an empty space on the cushion beside him, just for you. You made yourself comfortable, leaning against his side as he took the tea from your hands, taking a cautious sip. His eyes were already locked on you before your own caught his gaze, and he mouthed a silent ‘I love you’ before turning to the tv with a grin and pressing play.

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[darl-ings]

first snowfall | minwon

pairing: wonwoo x reader x mingyu

genre: fluff

warnings: not even a little bit edited

word count: 937

summary: in which you and your roommates spend the first snowfall of the winter season together

a/n: because it’s sunny in LA and my east coast heart misses snowy winters 

Your alarm buzzed away at 6am, set to wake you a few minutes before Seoul’s first snowfall of the season. At 6:05, you stumbled out of your room excitedly in your winter coat and pajamas before making your way to the living room. 

“Hot chocolate or coffee?” 

You jumped at the voice, quickly turning your head towards the kitchen entrance where it had come from. There stood your two roommates, mugs in their hands. You let out a deep sigh, walking over to them. 

“I didn’t know you guys were capable of being awake this early… also, coffee, please. I have an exam later.”

Mingyu got to work on your coffee while you and Wonwoo stood off to the side. 

“We knew you were getting up to watch the snow, so we wanted to join,” Wonwoo explained. 

“Roommate bonding time,” Mingyu added, handing you your coffee. “Should we go? It’s supposed to start at 6:15,” he suggested, ushering you and Wonwoo to the balcony of your apartment. The three of you stood shoulder to shoulder, mugs held tightly in your hands. Mingyu took his phone out, putting on some classical playlist at a low volume before sighing. 

“Way to set the mood, Gyu,” Wonwoo chuckled before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. A few peaceful moments of silence passed, the three of you basking in the music and the crisp wind. You eyes fell upon the city, waiting for it to be coated with a layer of snow.

And then, as if the world heard your thoughts, the first snowflake fell. Then the second, the third, until soon all of Seoul was covered by a sheet of snow. You reached out a hand, gathering the white flurries in your palm before folding your fingers on top. The feeling of the snow melting in your hand brought a grin to your face. 

Mingyu gathered some snow on his hand as well, the stuff melting immediately in his warm palm. He pouted, trying again to catch the snow without it melting. 

Wonwoo remained still, feeling the snow fall on his face. It tickled his nose, but he made no move to brush it off. Despite hating the cold, he appreciated the feeling off the snow on his warm face. 

“Do you guys know that old saying: About how if you’re in the snow during the first snowfall with someone you like, true love will blossom between you,” you randomly blabbered, unsure what type of reaction you wanted from your words. Another silence fell again, this time thick with unspoken tensions. Mingyu let out a harsh laugh, seemingly involuntary, since he was quick to grow quiet afterwards. For a while, no one made noise again. Your words rang in each of your heads, coating your thoughts in the way the snow covered Seoul. Eventually, an hour passed. Your mugs were empty. Wonwoo’s hands were shaking, and Mingyu’s phone buzzed twice. 

“It’s Dokyeom. He wanted to try this new cafe near campus before our class starts… Did you guys want to go?” Mingyu asked, his eyes slightly hopeful as he looked between you and Wonwoo. 

“I have an exam in two hours, and I promised Vernon I’d help him review before it,” you replied. 

“Yeah, I was going to go back to sleep. I don’t have class until 3pm,” Wonwoo added. Mingyu nodded, though an evident pout formed on his lips. You smiled at his expression, reaching your free hand up to caress his face. 

“We can get dinner tonight, okay? The three of us. You can pick where we go.”

Mingyu nuzzled against your hand, his head nodding slightly. “Sounds good.”

“Hey, I didn’t consent to this spontaneous dinner. What if I had plans?” Wonwoo questioned, his face attempting to look serious but his smile unable to fade. You turned towards Wonwoo, your hand moving from Mingyu’s face to grasp Wonwoo’s shaky hand.

“You don’t have plans because you love us.”

Wonwoo paused, his smile embarrassingly widening at your touch. He squeezed your hand. 

“Yeah, I do.”

As you and Wonwoo smiled at each other, Mingyu audibly cringed, mumbling something about needing to bang his head against the wall. You and Wonwoo laughed, Mingyu still muttering to himself as he grabbed yours and Wonwoo’s mugs and headed inside. After a few moments passed, you turned back towards Wonwoo.

“Sleep well, Won. I’ll see you later.” I love you and I want you to rest well.

“Good luck on your exam. I know you’ll do well.” I love you and I believe in you. 

“Hey, do you need a ride to campus? Dokeyom can wait.” I love you, let me take care of you.

The three of you went about your separate ways, Wonwoo going back to his room and you and Mingyu getting ready before leaving to go to school. Later that night, Mingyu took the three of you to a new restaurant in town, one with a menu full of your favorite dishes and an atmosphere Wonwoo loved. The night ended in the living room, the three of you cuddled on the couch under one blanket, watching a new Netflix show and sharing a bowl of popcorn. Occasional touches and glances would elicit smiles from each of you, a new tension filling the small apartment. 

And yeah, that old saying was probably bogus, but later that night you would all go to Wonwoo’s room to sleep since he had the largest bed, and as the night turned to morning, you all realized that a life without the three of you, was not a life at all. 

[brittababbles]

House of the Dragon S2e1: blow by blow reaction on second watch

Spoilers beyond this point

1. I love the tapestry opening. Very reminiscent of GoT’s maps.

1a. Matt Smith gets top billing, huh? Interesting choice.

2. Ah Winterfell, and the Wall. And a nice thick northern accent doing voiceover. Is it weird that I can smell Winterfell? I’ve missed this place.

3. :( sweet Jace seems to be having a nice time in the North. Enjoy while you can, sweet boy. Though he’s got to be freezing at the Wall.

4. What does it keep out? Don’t worry about it, Jace. It doesn’t matter right now. That’s a different series entirely.

5. Jace looks hauntingly like Jon Snow when he’s standing on the wall and I Don’t Like It

6. Rhaenys not taking Daemon’s shit makes my soul less unhappy. She’s all “hey daemon remember how you let my daughter die? This is like that.”

7. In fairness, Daemon isn’t wrong.

8. “Would that you were the king” gods be good, Rhaenys. We’d all be dead

9. I have nothing to add about Rhaenyra in the Stormlands. The entirety of it is just beautiful and sorrowful.

9. Why are we still talking about the Stepstones? That was soooo last season, Corlys.

10. Who is this burly handsome fellow chatting with Corlys? He’s delightful. Dragging bodies out of the sea! Wowweee 😍

11. Dude if you can see her from that far out, that dragon is Vhagar. Chill.

12. Aegon seems to at least like his children. And Helaena, at least on some level.

13. “The rats” oh my sweet girl.

14. So. How long have you and Cole been doing this, Alicient? More than once? Is he your whore, perhaps?

15. But also why do you have to stop? You’re a widow. You can do what you want.

16. CHEESE?!

16a. And Cheese’s dog, whom I adore.

17. Aegon is… so bad at this being king thing. Just so bad at it and it’s weirdly endearing. Also little Jaehaerys? So sweet. Poor thing.

18. I love how nobody likes Tyland Lannister. I don’t like Tyland Lannister.

19. Aemond!

19a. Does Aemond straighten his hair or is it just like that?

20. I forgot about Otto Hightower. And Larys Strong. I am happier having forgotten them and shall continue to do so.

21. Larys knows you been fucking the lord commander, Alicent. And he’s spying on you. And he’s still the creepiest guy in a series that casually accepts incest as the norm.

22. Syrax is my second, maybe third favorite of the dragons and I have missed her.

23. Rhaenyra my Queen. My gods this was tragic. Daemon is right: she shouldn’t have done this alone. I’m glad at least Syrax is with her

24. “Aegon the Magnanimous” wh wh what 😂

25. You’re so bad at this Aegon. But I guess at least you’re earnest about it. Aegon the Frat Boy is too on point, I suppose.

26. You know, I don’t like Otto, but honestly. Bless his heart for herding his grandson through King-hood is painful to watch.

27. In retrospect, the odd shots of the castle make sense. This whole episode foreshadows the end of it with these weird, creeping shots of the Red Keep, particularly in the halls and through the railways.

28. I see that nobody in Aemond’s family understands him at all. Except maybe Daemon.

29. Oh that’s not someone knocking on the door. That’s the drums of the soundtrack. Heh.

30. Baby goats!

31. Mysyria is… not my favorite. But she does have a thorough understanding of Daemon that Rhaenyra seems to sometimes lack.

32. Whoa. Damn, Daemon. Easy now. Don’t break the table.

33. Syrax is back! Hi Syrax!

34. Aw, that Targaryen forehead touch.

35. “I want Aemond Targaryen” I feel like that’s a common feeling toward him, for better or worse, Rhaenyra. Just based on fanfic results alone.

36. Daemon I know where this plan ends and I don’t like it.

37. Jace! Mama Rhaenyra! Oh Jace is trying so hard to be brave for his Queen.

38. I’ve seen a lot of people raving against this sequence in the Sept but I really liked it. Alicent did not mean for Luke to die and I do think she still cares for Rhaenyra. Her childhood friend lost a son, and to pray for peace for a dead child is not something that should be shamed. Also on a cinematography level, the candlelight vs the pyre flames was gorgeous.

39. Little Joffrey is breaking my heart.

40. I spent a solid ten seconds trying to work out why Aemond was screwing around in Blackwater Bay because I assumed he had taken over the Cloak of Crime. But no! It’s Daemon! Again!

41. Ehhhh Blood and Cheese and I just don’t like it. Cheese is just gross.

42. Interesting departure. Daemon orders Aemond’s death.

43. Speaking of whom. Aemond is… odd. He isn’t wrong, but he overestimates himself. But then he’s not entirely wrong. His mother’s fondness for Rhaenyra could be seen as a weakness. Though he certainly is playing his own hand here.

44. Ah the “cunning spider” line from Cole that is just a hilarious projection.

45. Does Aemond not have to get up when Otto walks in the room?

46. No Otto. Vhagar is the greatest single power in the realm. Aemond is but a fly on her back.

47. Cheese’s dog looks so much like my dog and I am so upset about it.

48. So… y’all are just going to waltz across the throne room and nobody will notice? That’s… fine?

49. Loyal as a hound, eh?

50. I hold with Aegon the Frat Boy as his title.

51 Uh, you go up the stairs to get upstairs, Blood. That’s how upstairs usually works.

52. DON’T KICK THE DOG!!! 😫😫😫

53. So… Daemon told them that if they can’t find Aemond they should just… improvise? Any male’s head will do? That’s not what Rhaenyra said at all.

54. Why are they just wandering around the castle unchecked? This just doesn’t make sense

55. I really wanted to see a bit more from Helaena here. Some pleading, some begging, some bargaining, maybe. I know she’s probably shutting down emotionally, and Phia’s face shows terror - and guilt - very well. But this whole scene is just so odd. But, I do think there is something genuine about this performance

56. “They killed the boy” she’s in shock. This part didn’t feel at all out of place for the Helaena we’ve seen on screen.

57. And that’s it. What a strange episode.

[usafphantom2]

The SR-71 Was Close to Perfect

A member of the Blackbirds’ ground crew looks back on the airplane’s flight-test beginnings to the end of the Blackbirds

This first photograph was taken of the SR-71 #972 when it was in a hangar near Dullas airport, waiting for the new Smithsonian Air and Space Museum to be open. Photo Eric long. The other two photographs were taken at Palmdale California December 21, 1989.

After a 480-mile flight from Beale Air Force Base in California, the midnight-black airplane swooped down to about 300 feet above Burbank Tower, less than 30 seconds after its scheduled arrival time of 12 noon. It made an easy half-roll, then completed two more passes. The parking garage roof where I stood reverberated with cheers, but as the Blackbird came in for its final pass, a hundred feet off the runway, and then pulled up just beyond the tower, the crowd fell silent. was December 1989, and this flyby, a gift to Lockheed employees from Ben Rich, head of Advanced Development Projects (the Skunk Works), marked the beginning of the end of the SR-71. After much debate in Congress, the Blackbirds were about to be retired. The YF-12A, the earlier, single-seat version of the SR-71, first flew in August 1963 and the Blackbird in December 1964. It was still unsurpassed when it was retired in 1990, 24 years after it officially entered service.

As I watched the SR-71 that December day, I thought back to the airplane’s flight-test beginnings in the early 1960s. I thought of Ben Rich, Ray Passon, Keith Beswick, and so many others whose lives were forever touched by this aircraft. I too was part of the Blackbird team, setting up housing, transportation, and communications—special measures due to the secrecy necessary. And above all of us was designer Kelly Johnson, who had a gift for sharing his ability to innovate and his drive to succeed. The unity of commitment we felt under leadership from Larry Bohanan in engineering and Dorsey Kammerer in production reached new intensity whenever Kelly arrived in the field. Sometimes he would good-naturedly arm-wrestle with people working there. His team members were hand-picked and fiercely loyal to him. He once offered $50 to anybody who could find an easy job to do. He got no takers. When it came to their specialties, the people working on the Blackbird were the best in the company, perhaps in the country or even the world. The last word in reconnaissance airplanes, the SR-71 was capable of flying faster than Mach 3 and above 85,000 feet. In fact, the SR-71 flew so fast that even in the cold of those rarefied heights, the friction of the air heated its titanium skin to 550 degrees Fahrenheit.

On the day the Blackbird took to the air for the first time, many of the ground crews showed up. I had worked all night, but sleep in those days seemed like nothing but a waste of time so I stayed to watch. The weather was perfect for a December day: clear and cold, with snow on the surrounding mountains. Somewhere around 8 a.m. the desert silence was shattered by the sound of the twin Buick V-8 engines used for the starters. Later, when the Blackbirds operated at their base at Beale, they had permanent start facilities in their hangars, but in the early days two highly modified 425-cubic-inch Buick Wildcats, an estimated 500 horsepower each, were used to turn a massive starter shaft that was inverted into the first one, then the other of the SR-71’s J-58 engines. One sound I shall never forgot is that of those unmuffled Buicks holding steady at better than 6,000 rpm in excess of 15 seconds at a time, all hours of the day and night. Starting the engines was no easy job.

Kelly Johnson stood by in his familiar dark blue suit and tie, smiling as he had a final word for the pilots.

Veteran crew chief standing next to me could only murmur, “Her enemies will never be natural.”( that was true. It was jealous people that were her enemy.)

Written by Jim Norris

@Habubrats71 via X