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getitinbusan · 4 years

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Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Y/N doesn’t want a relationship, especially not with an idol. Jaebeom only wants her. Love after heartbreak and all the things that fall in between. Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Smut. Inspired by lyrics, the bold lettering indicates music or lyrics that can be found in the accompanying serendipitous universe playlist.

The only reason to go to the club was to pick up, but when everyone knew who you were, it was just a dumb idea.

Yugyeom and Bam Bam however, were all about dumb ideas.

He hated this scene, didn’t like attention, didn’t like the sloppy drunks and especially didn’t like girls who threw themselves at him.

He wasn’t sure how exactly they’d talked him into coming here tonight. Sitting at the bar, head down he let his phone distract him until the inevitable happened.

Waiting for your drink you watched the scene play out.

“I can’t believe you haven’t bought me a drink yet.” She slithered over to him.

“Why would I do that?” He answered barely looking up.

“It’s the least you could give me in return for all things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“The only thing you’re going to do that makes me happy tonight is walk away."

A laugh escaped from your mouth and she turned to eye you up and down.

Ignoring him she leaned in closer inserting her hand between his legs. "Listen, you’re not my type, my dick’s not interested.”

Picking his drink up off the bar she threw it in his face, “Your fucking loss.”

“I think you upset her a little,” you laughed handing him a napkin.

“Good luck when she drops this as a Dispatch scandal tomorrow.”

The bartender handed you your drink and you started to walk away.

“Wait,” he stood up and offered his hand, “I’m…”

“Lim Jaebeom,” you cut him off leaving his hand outstretched in limbo.

“You know who I am?”

“I do, and while it was nice to meet you Jaebeom, my dick’s not interested.”

“Wow, that’s just” he grinned…“using my own words against me. I mean… just because you’ve heard of me doesn’t mean you know me.” He was joking, you weren’t.

“I know there’s nothing about your lifestyle I want to be a part of,” you said walking back towards him.

“I know that you’re on tour about 300 days out of the year and the other 65 you’re stuck practicing.”

You got closer, “I know your fans are fucking crazy and they’ll destroy every personal relationship you try to have.”

Closer , "I know that however committed you intend on being, the road gets lonely and you’ve got a whole PR team to cover it up.”

As close as you could be, right in his ear, “Above all, I know that you’re too beautiful and too rich for your own good.”

Backing away, “Did I miss anything?"

Raising his eyebrow he was intrigued at what had you so bitter, "Can I buy you a drink?”

You smirked before walking away, “Already bought my own, thanks though.”

He’d never had a girl so adamantly deny him and he couldn’t get his mind off of you. Picking up his drink he set off to find the two idiots responsible for bringing him here.

There they were, and there you were about 20 feet away. You looked up and made eye contact, smiling before turning your attention back to your friends.

Bam Bam was quick to notice, “Oh, JB!! Say it’s not so, I think he’s got his eye on someone Yugyeom."

Following their glances Yugyeom saw you. "Uh-Uh get that idea out of your head right now, she’s damaged goods."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jaebeom asked.

“It means,” he pulled up his phone and showed it to JB, “That is Min Yoongi’s ex."

He took the phone out of Yugyeom’s hand, he remembered seeing these gossip articles a few months ago. Min Yoongi caught in a cheating scandal, secret relationship revealed!

He didn’t want this. He certainly wasn’t looking for a girlfriend but there you were.

The back story…

They were on to you.

The photographers lurked in corners, cars followed, you could feel their shadows hanging over you wherever you went.

This lifestyle was bullshit. Why the hell did you have to hide? It wasn’t normal to live like this.

As angry as it made you, you still played along. Year two, fuck you loved him. He was like an addiction, bad for you but you needed him.

So here you were, circling the block sneaking into your boyfriend’s house like a teenager trying not to get caught.

It had been the ultimate shit day and it was only 10am. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, you were late for work, got yelled at, quit, stopped for coffee, spilled it all over yourself, cried in the car and now you were dodging the paps just so you could do the one thing that would make you feel better, hug your boyfriend.

Fuck it, they weren’t letting up, let the chips fall where they may.

Parking on the road you walked to the house as quickly as you could and let yourself in.

Still crying, you closed the door behind you stopping to take a breath and re group. How the hell were you going to explain to Yoongi that you’d just outed your relationship?

Trying to pull your disheveled, tear soaked, coffee stained self together you made the trek to his downstairs studio.

Knocking lightly there was no answer, maybe he had his headphones on. Empty, the usual hub of activity was dark and quiet.

Lately he’d been distant. You thought he was just overworked and stressed. How were you so blind to not realize he must be sinking back into his anxiety.

Making your way upstairs to the bedroom, he was most likely still asleep.

Opening the door, his blackout curtains kept the room shrouded in darkness. You could hear the soothing sound of waves flowing from the white noise machine you’d bought him for Christmas.

Finally, something that made you smile. You would spend the rest of the day curled up beside him forgetting anything existed outside these walls.

Walking towards the bed your feet caught on something, clothes?

Yoongi was meticulous with his clothing, it wasn’t like him to just leave things lying around.

Your heart began racing, it always knew before your brain clued in that something was off.

Lifting the edge of the covers, you now knew why. Laying naked, curled up together, he clearly hadn’t been having a depression nap.

Flicking the lights on you stood waiting for recognition to kick in. He sat up rubbing his eyes, looking beside him he realized she was still in the bed and it was you standing in the doorway.

That was enough, you turned the light back off and left. There was no crying, he wasn’t worth the tears.

Opening the door, it was as if the paparazzi had multiplied, cameras snapping you, clearly distraught, while he followed in pursuit.

What was the expression? Not with a fizzle but with a bang? You’d hidden for two years but now you were finished, everyone was going to know what he’d done.

“I’ve wasted two god damn years on you Min Yoongi, I hope you get a fucking STD from your new slut"

That was that, your whole life spread over the Dispatch gossip page before lunch.

No boyfriend, no job, your life had completely changed over the course of an hour.

It had been four days and you were still on his mind. He couldn’t figure it out; it’s not like you’d even given him a flicker of hope.

“Fuck,” he said aloud as his fingers sent the text.

JB: You’ve got to find out about Y/N for me. I can’t stop thinking about her.

Yug: Why her JB? She’s 100% negative press. Name somebody, anybody else and I’ll hook it up.

JB: I never ask you for anything. Can’t you just fucking call Jungkook and get me her details

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

Yug: She owns a small bookstore in Ikseon-dong called Serendipity. Listen, Jungkook wasn’t happy about you asking. He said she’s been through enough, and you’d better not fuck her over.

JB: Thanks, I owe you one.

Yug: I hope this doesn’t bite you in the ass.

A bookstore, he grinned, well that was just fate or…serendipity. He could just pretend running into you was a coincidence, everybody knew he loved books.

He pulled it up on Google.

Serendipity, a Bookstore/Cafe located in the heart of Ikseon. A charming Old Hanok hidden amongst the Dongs tiny alleyways

While he scribbled down the address, the reviews caught his eye.

⭐ I don’t know who this whore thinks she is, but I hope her store goes out of business.

⭐ This store is trash just like the owner.

⭐ Stupid bitch deserved to get dumped. I can’t believe Yoongi would find her attractive.

⭐ Poverty ass gold digger. You’d better stay away from our boys.

His heart broke for you, he knew fans could be possessive, but these were just cruel. What terrible things for you to have to read, and for what? False ownership of their idol

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

Opening the door, the smell of coffee and books filtered through his nostrils, if he could create his own signature fragrance, this would be it. His eyes scanned the shop until he found you, glasses on sitting behind a computer screen at the checkout.

Browsing around he’d glance up every now and again taking you in. He noted how comfortable you looked in your own environment. Unlike at the bar your face was relaxed, soft, even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled at the customer you were serving, and he knew he was a goner.

He went back to perusing the shelves, his heart was beating quickly. How was he going to approach you?

“Can I help you find anything,” came from behind him.

He scanned the books quickly, and turned with a smile, “I’m just looking for I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki.”

You gave no reaction

“Well that’s pretty convenient Jaebeom, because you’re standing right beside it.”

Starting to walk away he caught your hand, “Hey, come on, I’m just trying to know you.”

“Funny, I think you already know all about me, you found me easily enough.” You pulled your hand away.

“Listen JB, I’m a real career killer and it seems like you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Why would you want this kind of drama?”

He knew the words were going to come out wrong but he was trying to say them before you could leave.

“I feel bad for how you’ve been treated, you deserve better. I think that I could make you better, fuck, not that there’s anything wrong with you.. I mean that we could be better….together, not separate.”

“I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me Jaebeom, last call for the pity party ended a while ago. I’m doing just fine putting myself back together.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I’m not usually like this. I don’t know why I can’t talk to you without sounding like an idiot.”

He sighed deeply, “I’m just…is it okay if I stay? I promise I’ll just have a coffee and read, I really like it here.”

“It’s bad business for me to chase away customers, stay as long as you want ”

You felt kind of bad, maybe you were being to harsh on him. Bringing his coffee to the table you set it down placing a slice of cheesecake next to it. “It’s on me.”

“Thanks,” he smiled shyly.

“Can I ask why you chose Serendipity? It’s kind of a romantic notion for someone who’s so cynical.”

Cocking a brow you asked, “Are you really interested, or is this you hitting on me?”

He laughed, “I’m not going to stop hitting on you, but yeah, I really want to know.”

You walked away and grabbed a book off the shelf. Sitting beside him, you slid it across the table.

“Have you heard of The Three Princes of Serendip?” He shook his head no.

“It’s a fairy tale. The heroes were always discovering things they weren’t in quest of.”

He thumbed through the pages while he listened to your explanation.

“That day a few months ago,” you interrupted yourself, “I’m assuming you know what day I mean?”

He pursed his lips and nodded.

“Well, I quit the job I hated, I lost my boyfriend and the whole world treated me like I’d done something wrong.”

You shrugged, still not understanding how it all happened.

“I was lost, I had nothing but myself and a handful of hush money from Big Hit. I came here to hideout but instead I found this place for sale. If that’s not a Serendipitous string of events, I don’t know what is.”

He smiled and closed the book, “I think I’ll take this one today.”

Pretending to be shocked you questioned him, “What? You didn’t really want I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki? ”

“I think I’ll leave that one as an excuse to come back.”

His deep chocolate brown eyes were heavy on you, you know because you made the mistake of looking into them.

“This is a public space, you don’t need to make excuses to come.” You tried to sound flippant.

“And JB…I wasn’t always this cynical, life just hasn’t given me a chance to be anything but.”

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

He laid in bed reading, or trying to at least. He’d been over the same sentence about four times unable to stop thinking about you.

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

You were laying in bed when you heard the ping. You knew it was a stupid idea, but after he left you stalked his accounts, and turned on his post notifications.

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

The Vlive began, he wanted to tell everyone about a great book he was reading that he’d found in a cool little shop in Ikseon-dong.

📖 Lady: I’m glad you like it.

Reading your comment he smiled, he really was a beautiful man. You examined his features and expressions but they suddenly changed. He tried to quickly sign off but it was too late.

😭Is he talking about y/n?

😱Are you kidding JB?

🤮I can’t believe he’s going after Yoongi’s sloppy seconds.

He knew he fucked up and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d finally made some headway and now he was back to square one.

So, the next day he was back. Standing in front of your counter he held out a cup of Hotteok.

Before he could speak you jumped in, “See JB, the way this whole retail thing works is, you pick something you want that I’m selling, then give me money for it. Nowhere in the scenario do you bring me random shit just because.”

Your eyes were red, he felt terrible, after only 2 conversations he’d already managed to hurt you.

“It’s not random shit, it’s an apology. I’m sorry I drew attention to you last night.” he paused, “you don’t deserve to be attacked like that."

You turned away trying to gain your composure, "The one thing I’ve learned through all this is to never apologize for showing your feelings. When you do, you’re apologizing for the truth."

You looked back, "I’ve never apologized for loving Yoongi, because it was real whether people want to believe it or not.”

You sighed, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t put the target on my back JB it’s been there a while, I’m just sad because now you’ve got one too."

His heart sank when he realized that you weren’t choosing loneliness to protect yourself, you were keeping your distance so he wouldn’t get dragged into it.

He placed his large hand over yours as it lay on the counter. "There’s only one thing that’s going to make me walk away from you.” He tipped your chin so you were forced to look into his eyes, “Tell me you don’t want me here."

The door chimed, you were no longer alone.

"Like I said yesterday, it’s bad business for me to chase away customers, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled brightly, “That’s not a no."

Taking the Hotteok from the counter you were still unsure, but he was right, it wasn’t a no.

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

Standing at the bar in the exact spot you’d met him, you’d hoped he’d be here tonight. You felt like a desperate fool with a schoolgirl crush.

Three days had passed since you’d last seen him and despite your best efforts, you found yourself missing him. You hated the way your heart hurt, of course he’d given up why would this be a surprise?

A hand reached around placing a drink on the bar in front of you. "You look like you could use this, still pining over Min Yoongi?"

"Actually I’m waiting for a friend Minho."

"I could be your friend tonight Y/N. I guarantee I can get you to stop thinking about him,” he grabbed your ass.

“No thanks, I don’t think 5 minutes in your bed will change my world.”

He grabbed the drink back, “No wonder he cheated on you, you’re such a bitch."

Dumb, Dumb, Dumb…you’d let your guard down and everything was feeling all too personal. Shooting back the last of your Soju you grabbed your jacket and made for the exit.

"You’re not leaving when I just got here?”

Your traitorous heart fluttered, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be waiting."

His grin got bigger, "Are you mad because maybe you actually missed me a little?”

Mad, sad, who could tell them apart anymore?

“Yeah, actually I am and I’m livid with myself for it."

He put his hand on your waist, "Hey, I’m sorry, I got called for re shoots.”

His thumb rubbed over your hip soothingly, “I only have your work number…I just got back and I was hoping you’d be here"

A voice shouted from across the bar "Don’t waste your time on that one JB, come sit with us"

You closed your eyes trying to keep the tears at bay, "You heard the man. I’m leaving anyway, I guess I’ll see ya around.”

Shooting a look at Minho he ran out the door to catch up with you.

Standing at the curb waiting for a cab he reached his hand out to you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to be with me. It’s still early, let’s go somewhere okay, can we still do that?"

Placing your hand in his, "Only if we’re alone…and there’s alcohol.”

He smiled victorious, “I think I know a place."

Walking up the crowded street you felt better, anonymous. He kept squeezing your hand making sure you hadn’t slipped away.

"Right here,” he stopped in front of a pink neon lit Karaoke Bar.

“Karaoke? I think one of us has an extremely unfair advantage JB."

"Don’t worry I’ll let you win."

Stepping closer to him you kissed his cheek, "Why are you being so nice to me JB?"

"Y/N, why do you keep questioning my motives?”

His hand ran up your arm, “I hate that you’ve been mistreated for so long that you don’t realize what normal behavior is.”

He held the door open for you, “How’s a private room and bottle service sound?"

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

You consumed copious amounts of Grey Goose as you took turns performing for one another. What you lacked in vocal talent you made up for in your ability to mimic choreography.

"I think I’ve lost my voice,” you shouted after your efforts to sing Itzy’s Wannabe.

“I’m going to have to tell JYP about you, maybe with some training you can debut next year and come on tour with us,” he laughed.

He queued up the next song, “Come here, I want to dance with you."

You moved into his waiting arms and allowed yourself to surrender to his pursuits. His song came on and you laughed, "it’s so cheesy Jaebeom-ah!"

He sang anyway,

Our love will lead the way for us

If the road ahead is not so easy

Like a guiding star

I’ll be there for you if you should need me

You don’t have to change a thing

I love you just the way you are

You let your head rest on his chest, his heartbeat was louder, more important than the words he was singing.

Glad he was holding you up, you felt a little drunk, a little in love and for once, you weren’t going to stop yourself.

He kissed the top of your head and held on a little tighter, "So does this mean you’ll finally give me your number?”

You looked up at him nodding, locking eyes he moved slowly closer, lips almost touching …until his phone went off.

He frowned, “Fuck, it’s management. Sorry I’ve got to check in. Just stay in my arms ok?"

"You’re going to read texts over my shoulder? How romantic,” you jibed, but you didn’t break away.

JYP: Dispatch has reached out to us for comment regarding a new dating scandal. They were tipped off that you were with Y/N at Cakeshop Night Club tonight and now they are outside of the Karaoke bar waiting for photos. We need to discuss your intentions immediately. A car will pick you up in 15 mins, wait inside for security. Do not leave the building together as it is still controllable speculation.

You could feel his body react to what he was reading, deep breaths, tensed muscles and finally pulling you in tightly. “What is it J?"

"I’ve got to get you out of here, the press are outside"

He handed you his phone, "add your number.”

But JYPs text was still open and you saw every word.

You keyed in your info and switched it off before handing it back.

You breathed deep, “You know, sneaking in and out of buildings is my specialty,” You put your hand over his heart and gave a sad smile.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure there’s a back entrance, I’ll just grab a cab home. If you go out the front they’ll be too busy taking photos of you, they’ll never notice me.”

You tried to sound confident and uncaring so he’d do what was best but Jaebeom had his own plan.

“Get your stuff, we’re going out the front together."

He pulled your hand through the bar and out the front door. Lights flashed as they took their photos for tomorrow’s headlines.

Hailing a cab he leaned over and kissed your lips, "I’m going to call you as soon as I can okay?”

You weren’t okay, your first kiss would be your last kiss. Your smile hid the stabbing pain in your heart, you knew it was over before it had started.

“Jaebeom,” you called him back after he closed the car door behind you, “It’s been a really great time.”

He smiled and waved.

Getting into the companies blacked out Suburban he was happy, he was going to stand his ground.

He’d felt bad that your first kiss had been under these circumstances so he opened his phone to text you a quick apology.

Searching the contacts he found your entry, “I’m sorry” with random numbers underneath.

So much for not getting attached. Unlocking the door you collapsed crying, the exhaustion of life had finally beaten you into submission.

The shrill ring of the store’s landline broke through the quiet of the courtyard, a reminder of his persistence. He wasn’t going to give up so you had no other choice but to cut him off.

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

Barely having slept, coffee in hand, you made your way over the wooden path to the store.

The indication light was flashing in a rhythm that brought back the sound of his heartbeat in your ear.

You have one unheard message…

Y/N, I know that you were happy last night, don’t walk away from this…from me. Do you remember the day I first came into your shop? You asked me how I intended to fix you? I didn’t know then, I was just grasping for a shot…but…I know now..I’m just going to love you. All you have to do is let me…can’t you just let me?“

Reaching out you hit delete and tried to convince yourself it was for the best.

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

Watching from your office he’d come in everyday for a week. The staff, as instructed, told him you weren’t there but several times he’d caught you looking at him through the window.

He looked hopeful but you were sure he’d get over it, you’d get over it.

There was a light knock on your door before the handle turned.

"Hey, sorry Y/N, he insisted on leaving this for you.” She placed the book on your desk and left.

Running your hands over the cover you could tell it was well loved.

Its condition would normally drive you nuts but it was his, and in his passionate demeanor he’d most likely tackled it head first, caution less, as was his way.

You were unfamiliar with it, Tablo’s “Pieces of You." Flipping through the marked up pages you found a bookmark, a hand drawn blue tree with flower petal leaves pointing to what he wanted you to see.

"So here I am,

Choosing to kick away the ladder

So that I may remain at your side.

I understand your solitude

I see your shadow.”

His phone number was scribbled on the inside cover with the inscription. “When you’re ready, whether it’s tomorrow or two years from now."

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

The worn book sat on your desk catching your eye every so often. He hadn’t been in for a few days, had he given up? Why did it hurt to think maybe you’d never see him again?

"Fuck,” you opened the cover And picked up your phone.

Y/N: I miss you and I don’t want to do that anymore.

JB: You don’t have to, just let me in.

Y/N: I need some time.

JB: I’m just….Y/N…don’t shut me out okay?

He left you space as requested ….sort of.

Every night you got notifications of his v lives. He talked to you indirectly through the camera, speaking about the books he’d read while sending secret messages through his song choices playing in the background.

He looked happy and he never wavered when your name was brought up by the fans. He stood up for you, called you a friend and told people they shouldn’t say such horrible things.

Slowly he was breaking your resolve, you were healing.

📖 Lady: I really enjoyed Pieces of You.

He smiled knowing you were online. He queued up his next track, it was Junny’s By my side and he sang…

stay right by my side

And let me teach you how to love

With you I just can’t get enough, oh girl

He closed his eyes and hummed in contentment.

Your phone notification broke the trance Jaebeom’s sweet melody had lulled you into.

Yoongi: Can we meet, I think we should talk.

Y/N: I don’t fucking think so.

Yoongi: it’s about Jaebeom.

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

You got to the coffee shop early and were surprised he was already there, punctuality was never his strong suit.

He stood to greet you. Thinking better of the hug he was going for, he gestured to the chair.

“I want to say I’m sorry”…he stammered over his words.

“I know it means nothing and you hate me but…I am…sorry.”

He remembered your order and it was already on the table.

“Can we just cut the shit. Why exactly do you want to talk to me about Jaebeom?”

He ran his hand up the back of his neck, “I keep getting messages from the fans about you two.”

“You know what Yoongi, I’m tired of your fucking fans. They’ve sent me hundreds of death threats, they write rude comments on my business page and now that someone actually likes me again they keep telling him that I’m a piece of shit."

You spit the feelings that had been trapped inside you out at him.

"You know you could have told them to stop, but you didn’t.”

He looked at you puzzled and pulled up his weverse page.

“You think it’s only you?”

He scrolled through reading you select comments.

“I’ve lost all respect for you Yoongi… I can’t believe you’re a cheater. Here, this one’s great……..Y/N deserves better, I’m happy she’s with JB now…"

You were shocked, not once had you seen or received messages that were team Y/N.

"Well you fucking deserve it."

He shrugged, "Jaebeom, he’s a decent guy…Jungkook’s been talking to Yugyeom and word is you’re not giving him a chance because of what happened.”

He wouldn’t look up from his Americano.

“Don’t let me fuck up your life any more than I already have okay, I’m not worth it."

You sighed, reaching across the table to touch his arm.

"I appreciate that you’d come here to tell me that."

He picked up your hand and held it tightly in his.

"I’m sorry I did this to you. Let him be the man I couldn’t."

Standing to leave he kissed your cheek, grabbed his coffee and walked away.

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

Sitting in your office there was a soft knock at the door, "Hey, sorry, I just…did you,” she approached apprehensively with a cup of tea, “have you seen the dispatch page?”

It didn’t take long, the photos, the headlines, the comments…

Yoongi and Y/N are back together! Seen today, the couple were holding hands and kissing over coffee. Was she just using Lim Jaebeom?

You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs, of course this would happen.

Had Jaebeom seen? What would he think? As you sat panicking he sent a text.

JB: Just can’t manage to stay out of trouble, huh? I’m beginning to think you tip off your own location to Dispatch to grab the headline.

You threw your phone into the drawer and slammed it shut.

He waited, no answer, shit… he’d shoved his foot in his mouth again.

Why did he turn into a completely inarticulate unfunny idiot when it came to you?

JB: Y/N I’m sorry that was supposed to be a joke…

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

You looked at your assistant, “I think I really fucked up, you want to go out and get completely loaded tonight?"

She smiled agreeing, "I’ll start closing, you go put on something sexy."

You stood to leave, "May as well, If I’m going to get accused of stupid shit I might as well make it worthwhile.”

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

The drinks flowed freely and you just didn’t give a fuck anymore, about anything. If they were all watching, you didn’t care. You danced, you sang, you laughed, you needed no one. Until he was in front of you.

“Shit, let’s go”, you grabbed your friends hand but she smiled devilishly at you.

“I called him, its time to get the fuck over it Y/N. You’ll thank me later,” She waved him in and walked away.

Zeroing in on you, he made his way over. Ready on the defensive you expected him to be angry.

In your best effort to save face you’d cut him off before he could you.

“If you want to be mad at me go ahead, but I fucking warned you this would happen.”

You were pointing at his chest, trying to drive your point home.

“So if you’re here to tell me you don’t want anything to do with me, you go right ahead Lim Jaebeom."

"Are you done?” He raised his voice.

“You are the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met Y/N. I’ve gone to bat for you for the last month, I never gave up. AND! despite how hard you’ve pushed me away I’ve never left. Do you think I’d actually walk away because of a dispatch article?"

You both stared in a deadlocked gaze. Time standing still until he wrapped his arms around your waist. You could feel a million eyes on you all at once.

"Take me home Jaebeom.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead, “I thought you’d never ask."

The ride was quiet, you tucked your head under Jaebeom’s arm, the vehicle’s movements making you sleepy. He held your hand like a nervous high school boy, afraid what he really wanted to happen was about to happen.

The car pulled up to the front of his place and he smiled nudging you awake. “We’re here.“

Drunk and groggy you looked around, "where’s here?"

He put his arm around your waist to keep you from falling over, "You’re at my place, in Hannam. Remember? You asked me to bring you home?”

You looked him up and down giggling, “Yeah I did.”

Trying to balance you and getting his key in the lock he finally got the door open. At least 5 cats came running to greet him, “Oh my God JB, you’re a crazy cat lady!"

"This is why I can’t have friends over,” he picked up the smallest fluffy one and kissed it’s head.

The pretty little Siamese brushed against your leg until you picked her up. He looked shocked, “She doesn’t like anyone."

"You purred into her fur, "Well I’m not just anyone, am I?”

“Clearly."

He walked over and took the cat from your arms, "Let’s take care of you. What can we do to minimize the hangover you’re going to have in the morning?"

He held your face in his hands. "What do you need?"

You were feeling a little dizzy, whether it was from the alcohol or his proximity you couldn’t be sure.

"Maybe some fresh air, water…your arms to keep me from falling over.” You propositioned.

He slid the balcony door open and led you outside. “You’re going to have to hold onto the rail till my arms get back."

The air was cool and you closed your eyes inhaling deeply, everything felt right.

Perched atop the Seoul Skyline the stars shone brightly in the astronomical twilight. In the grand scheme of all the overblown things that had taken place in the last few months, you were still just a small player in a larger roll occurring around you.

A helicopter broke through the silence of the night "Uh-oh, looks like Dispatch tracked you down already.”

You shot him a look, “what, too soon?”

He passed you a glass and an aspirin, “Drink.”

He stood close beside you, leaning on the rail staring out at the city. You walked your hand over closing the distance until it touched his.

“I want to apologize."

He cut you off, "you really don’t have to, you didn’t do anything wrong."

He brought his hand the rest of the way to lay over top of yours.

"I’m pretty sure you once told me to never apologize for showing your feelings because if you do you’re apologizing for the truth."

Amazed you turned to him, "You remember me saying that?"

He nodded as you moved towards his lips.

He pulled back, "Y/N, you’re drunk, I’ve already ruined our first kiss I’m not going to let you forget the second."

"You’re a good guy JB"

He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

"Unfortunately I am…so I’m going to have to send you to bed."

You looked up at him with big eyes and a pout, "You don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Jesus Christ, you think I don’t want you? You’re really making me question my morals right now.”

He ran his hand up your arm and sighed while spinning you back towards the door.

Flipping the switch his bedroom lit up before you.

“It’s so cozy Jaebeom-ah. Cats, Plants, nice sheets…how are you still single?"

He handed you a t-shirt from his drawer, "I was kind of hoping I’m not anymore…you can sleep in this."

You grabbed it looking upset, "I’m going to feel bad if you sleep on the couch.”

He undid the zipper that ran up the back of your dress. “You’re going to feel bad in the morning anyway plus you’re not even going to remember this conversation."

You broke out the pout again, "What if I get scared or lonely?”

He bent down and picked up the cat that had followed you since you arrived.

“Nora is the best company and she wouldn’t dare let anything happen to you.” He kissed your forehead and pointed, “Bed, now."

He was still laughing at you as he turned off the light and closed the door.

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

You woke up in the huge bed, alone save for the tiny cat curled up into your side. The smell of coffee wafted under the door calling you to get up but your head swam in scenarios.

You remembered him being a complete gentleman, you remembered falling asleep against the pillow that smelt like him, you remembered…he was just on the other side of the door.

You liked it here, you didn’t want to leave. You wanted him to know you weren’t a waste of time, you’d already lost so much of it by pushing him away.

Grabbing your phone you composed your words into a poem you needed him to hear.

I was fine on my own, every night I slept alone

The distance kept me safe

It’s easier to fake the feel than dance around with something real

Promises might break

Then you came along and said that I was different

You were missing something and it felt like we should see

Normally, I’d fall away, your face is a distraction

But I like the way that you’re distracting me

I went home before my friends so I could hear your voice again

But it feels strange to care

I hesitate to say out loud that when I’m drunk and in a crowd

I pretend you’re there.

We watch the helicopters from the top of your apartment

And all I could think is I don’t want to leave

Normally, I’d fall away, your face is a distraction

But I like the way that you’re distracting me

I’m writing this from your bed while you’re in the other room

I like what you do to me, and I wanna tell you soon.

Maybe you’ll shy away, maybe you’ll fall apart

It’s hard being honest, but I’m being honest

Get in the play, running your fingers through my hair

Don’t wanna behave, how do you act when no one’s there?

Feeling inside, feeling a way, it’s different and it’s working

Oh, you make me nervous, oh, you make me nervous

You read it over and flopped back on his pillow…send…you heard his notification go off ….you waited.

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

There was a soft knock before he turned the handle.

He looked beautiful standing in the doorway. His pajama pants hung low on his waist, it was the first time you’d caught a glimpse of his body and your breath hitched at the sight.

Wrapped in nothing but his sheet you pulled the covers back in invitation.

He walked over to where you sat, "Is this what you really want?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

He pulled his pants off letting them fall to the ground and he crawled in beside you.

His hands drew through your hair and his lips found their way to yours…properly, undisturbed, no flashbulbs to commemorate the event. It was soft and languid, his tongue taking its time to explore your mouth.

He pulled away to stare at you, “Tell me I can finally have you."

"All of me Jaebeom…I’m yours.”

He caressed your face, thumb sliding between your lips, over your chin and down your neck as he kissed into the crevice of your collar bone.

It had been so long, yet it had never felt like this. You could feel his desire with every touch, his lips, his fingertips and his hard cock pressed up against your hip.

“I want you so bad J,” your hands tugged through his hair as you wrapped your leg around his body to guide him in closer.

“Shit..Shit…do you have a condom? I just never thought this would happen..fuck"

You both collapsed back onto the bed breathing heavy.

"Ugh, no,” you sighed frustrated.

He put both hands over his face, disappointed that even this moment couldn’t go smoothly.

You rolled into his side, “I never stopped taking the pill…and after what happened, I did get tested…I mean, if you’re not okay with it..it’s okay…we can wait.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you softly, “I haven’t been with anyone in years, it’s mandatory we get tested during our physicals…"

"Fuck thank God!” You rolled on top of him and ground yourself over him.

Laying kisses down his chest you let your fingers skim lightly over his abs. His skin tingled with goosebumps under your touch and you felt him twitch at your center.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded biting his lip, “Please."

He held your hips as you lined yourself up over him. Not breaking eye contact you slowly lowered yourself, taking him into you.

You felt like you could cry, it had been so long since you’d let yourself feel the intimacy of giving yourself to someone.

You both moaned in unison as he hit your cervix. "You feel so good,” he sighed.

You didn’t move, you wanted to feel him in you, feel him filling you, this wasn’t just sex. You were both here, in the same place at the same time feeling the same thing.

There was no past, only two people fusing themselves to one another’s future.

You began rocking your hips. Looking down his face was focused, beautiful, lost. His lips were parted and soft breaths escaped from between them every time you met back together.

He held you pressed against him as he sat upright. Brushing away your sweaty hair he kissed your neck, your shoulders and down to your breasts. He touched them reverently, his fingertips brushing lightly over your nipples making you clench around him.

His face scrunched up, “oh my god baby, you can’t do that.. it feels too good.”

Pushing his hair back you placed kisses all over his face, “We can do this all day, as many times as we want, I’m not going anywhere.”

He secured his arm around you and flipped you onto your back.

Hands on both sides of your face he rolled his hips into you. He hit different, deeper, the repetitive sliding building up the orgasm inside you.

It wasn’t rushed but it was excited, your hands, mouths and bodies had no motive other than providing each other pleasure.

Wrapping both legs around him you held him tightly against your core. “I’m so close Jaebeom, so close…”

Your head was thrown back and your hands gripped the pillows beside you. You felt him cumming, spilling out of you as he continued. He didn’t give up until your nails were dug deep into his skin and he could feel you pulsing around him.

He collapsed on top of you trying to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Was it okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity, “It was perfect.”

Your voice trailed off and immediately noticing, he sat up to look at you.

“I’m scared Jaebeom, I don’t want this to start wrong, I don’t want to keep us a secret."

"Then let’s not.” He grabbed his phone and held it up to take a picture.

“Are you fucking nuts?” You asked while hiding in the sheets beside him.

He tapped the keys, “What are you writing?”

He wouldn’t answer you, “Jaebeom-ah, give me the phone…stop!"

Smiling he hit SHARE and handed it to you.

What you need to know:

1: I am in love with a girl and I think that she’s in love with me.

2: I am incredibly happy.

What you don’t need to know:

1: Anything else about us.

2: Especially not why I’m in bed at 2:30 in the afternoon

3: Or that Y/Ns hiding under the covers beside me.

#Jaebeom #lim Jaebeom #jaebum #got 7 #got7 scenarios #def cnvs #myprds #jayb

66 notes · View notes

monsterlovinghours · 4 years

Note

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date.

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it.

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star.

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now.

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist.

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly.

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened.

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her.

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been.

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south.

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.”

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

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twstedgrils · 4 years

Text

Oc Master Post

Alright! I finally have all my ocs designed and written down! This is the official debut post for this oc blog! It’s really long (gotta go through 10 ocs lmao) so I’ll put a read more so it’s easier to scroll past. If your interested, please read and even ask me questions! I really want to interact with this fandom since everyone seems so nice and funny!

And yes, I did put grils instead of girls on purpose...I’m funny I swear

So I first want to say that my ocs are in an au, one which has NRC have female students (but still in low numbers) and an 8th dorm based on Captain Hook (making Ramshackle the 9th). Also Crowley is a tiny bit nicer to our mc in this au, mostly cause he’s basically her weird dad lol

There’s another addition to this au, but that’ll be addressed in my MC insert’s bio.

I’ll also list additional info that the text in the refs don’t address, including body types because I wanted my ocs to be diverse in that aspect.

Another thing, shipping. Oh great seven, shipping will be a free for all for me. I really like shipping. So any ship and every ship will be possible (as long as it’s not with Cheka or Ortho, cause no. Human Grim is fine, but he has to be in human form). With that in mind this blog will be very self-indulgent when it comes to shipping and such.

I’ll come back to this to edit when I develop these girls more.

So first off we’ll start with my MC!self-insert!

I didn’t know what outfit to put her in, since Ramshackle doesn’t have a dorm uniform, so I just put her in her pjs (which were provided by Crowley).

Birthday: Feb 4 (my b-day lolol)

Best Subject: Math

Worst Subject: PE (for valid medical reasons)

Hobby: Drawing

Homeland: Not of TW

Body Type: Average

Charlotte (or Charlie as people call her) is usually quiet, especially when she first arrives in TW. But the more she’s comfortable around the people, the more she reveals her inner sass. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s as much as a dumbass as the ADeuce duo.

She’s also has albinism, but she used to constantly dye her hair into a more strawberry blonde so she wouldn’t get picked on by other kids. This condition also leads to her having to take many breaks during PE so she won’t burn.

She may like cats, but Grim really tests her fondness for them. But once it’s found out he can take a human form (and becomes more chill due to the amount of energy it takes to maintain said form) the two actually become the best of friends, which shocks the first year gang.

Design Inspiration: White Rabbit and March Hare

Birthday: Feb 29

Best Subject: History

Unique Magic: Golden Doorknob (Summons a golden doorknob on any surface, making it a door to anywhere the user thinks of. Example, placing the knob on Ramshackle's walls and walks into NRC's Cafeteria via the door)

Worst Subject: Chemistry

Hobby: Track

Homeland: Afterglow

Body Type: Pear shape

Whitney is what you expect from a rabbit, timid, nervous, shy, anxiety filled, and easily intimidated. At first. If you manage it anger her, suddenly you’ll be hit by both a Scottish war cry and a rabbit kick. When she’s angry, she’s a rage filled bunny who throws the most foul of curses. Her switches are rivaled to Deuce’s bad boy switch. And just like the boy, when she calms down she get’s very flustered.

She doesn’t talk to many people, as she hates attention. But after some she does become acquainted with the boys, almost on the line of friendship with each.

Design Inspiration: Shere Kahn and Tigger

Birthday: Set 28

Unique Magic: Fun! Fun! Fun! (turns any part of their body into a bouncy spring. Often the tail is used)

Best Subject: PE

Worst Subject: Chemistry

Hobby: Basket Weaving and making jewelry

Homeland: Land of Pyroxene

Body Type: Apple shape (broad shoulders)

Kaya is seen as a tough no bs girl, many females admire how she can go woman-to-man with the Savanaclaw males. But actually she’s nothing but a goofball that loves to tend to baby animals and make cute things. She has a talent for making beautiful woven baskets and earrings. She helps Ruggie a lot whenever she sees him overun by errands.

She does have a tendency to nap anywhere and everywhere like Leona and Silver, but she apologizes sheepishly when woken up. Because of her napping habit, she tends to stay up late into the night.

Design Inspiration: None

Birthday: May 24

Unique Magic: Second Chance (let’s the user go back to a certain point to try again. Only activated when close to death)

Best Subject: Chemistry

Worst Subject: History

Hobby: Singing and baking

Homeland: Coral Sea

Body Type: Petite

Wendy is a very small moon jellyfish mermaid. She was home-schooled by her mother under the sea, while her father ran a business on land. She visited land often to see her father, fascinated by all neon lights shining in the city.

She’s very quiet, like she’s actually a selective mute. She doesn’t tend to hangout with people because she fears most don’t like her because of her selective muteness. Oddly enough though, she’s always seen with Floyd, to the bafflement of everyone. She finds the eels mannerisms amusing.

She loves to sing, but doesn’t want anyone but her secret singing buddy (Daria) to listen to her. Her voice is very high pitched, but soft that it’s almost hard to hear. She also loves baking, often seen helping Jade and Floyd with preparing the sugary foods and drinks Monstro Lounge offers.

Design Inspiration: Iago and Jasmine’s red outfit

Birthday: Aug 5

Unique Magic: Dancer’s Delight (charms anyone who sees her dancing, perfect for distraction)

Best Subject: None

Worst Subject: None

Hobby: Dancing

Homeland: Land of Hot Sands

Body Type: Hourglass

Layla is like that one person who teases everyone and sees most as her friend. She uses both her height and pretty features to get a rise and fluster anyone. Her main victim is Jamil, much to his displeasure. She gets along great with Kalim, fueling his antics of carpet riding and shenanigans. But she does help Jamil in taking care of Kalim, often seeing the snake whisperer overworked.

She’s usually seen hanging out with Kaya and Whitney (with the rabbit being flustered by both of the taller females). She’s drawn to most in the Savanaclaw dorm, as she has the urge to pet their ears. She and Kaya are in the same class, so the two always buddy together, helping each other if needed.

Back home she comes from a line of exotic dancers, always entertaining other for money. With this in mind, she practices her dancing everyday. She hopes she can live up to the expectations her family has put on her. She’s not wealthy, but she’s not poor, so she doesn’t get too surpised over Kalim’s wealth. But she still does, especially when Kalim once offered to get her a tiger cub (she refused though).

Design Inspiration: Myself and Medusa (Hercules tv show)

Birthday: Mar 27

Unique Magic: Snake Eyes (paralyzes anyone with her stare if activated, even herself if she looks in the mirror)

Best Subject: History

Worst Subject: Math

Hobby: Painting and singing

Homeland: Isle of Lamentation

Body Type: Chubby

Daria is another quiet and reserved girl, she’s not shy per say but she prefers people to approach her than the other way. She doesn’t particularly like that she was sorted into Pomefiore, cause all she wants to do is paint and sing. This leads her to grow close to Epel and anger Vil. She purposefully doesn’t do anything to her appearance, only brushing her hair as she hates tangles.

She tends to stay in a secret area with Wendy, singing with the fellow quiet girl. If not that then she’s doing artwork in her dorm room, ignoring anyone who dares to pull her away from her work. Often times this leads to both her and Vil having a glaring contest cause she didn’t sleep (”Too busy painting” she says.) or forgot to do her morning skincare routine.

Design Inspiration: Phosphora (Kid Icarus) and Electra (backstory)

Birthday: Jul 16

Unique Magic: Sparks Fly (allows the user to transfer any electricity from any device around her into her prosthetics)

Best Subject: Math

Worst Subject: None

Hobby: Modifying her prosthetic limbs

Homeland: Rose Kingdom

Body Type: Top heavy

Elina is the mom friend, always giving others affection and helping them when she can. Because of her affectionate self, she treats Ortho like her little brother. You’ll often see her playing with the boy, or in her room working on her prosthetics (with Idia helping). She loves making her limbs look non-human, but she has more human structure legs for school (as to not weird out her classmates too much). She’s made them since young, always improving and modernizing her limbs.

Because of a tragic accident, she has prosthetics for both legs and her left arm. And has trauma over car races or cars going over the speed limit. She never mentions her family around others, but it shows how much she cares for them. The same could be said for her friends.

Design Inspiration: Chernabog

Birthday: Jun 6

Unique Magic: ???

Best Subject: History

Worst Subject: Chem

Hobby: Making Clothes

Homeland: Valley of Thorns

Body Type: Shortstack

Maria is basically the opposite of Lilia, while he looks young but acts maturely she looks mature but acts like a complete child. Most believe she’s staff before she has to explain that she’s a student. She’s not a brat (thank sevens) but she is very naive and innocent. This causes for her dorm mates to become somewhat protective if someone makes a pass on her (she never notices cause she thinks they’re just being nice).

She has a talent with designing clothes, no one can explain why. Many have approached her to pay for her designs, but she refuses. She says she much prefers to just make and gift her designs to anyone. When she’s working, it’s the most mature you’ll see her. Everyone she’s interacted with has at least one thing she’s made, whether they wanted it or not.

Design Inspiration: Hook and Scarlet (the female animatronic from the pirate ride)

Birthday: Dec 25

Unique Magic: The Sea’s Rage (a passive ability that allows the user to access inhuman strength, allowing her to lift even Jack or Malleus)

Best Subject: None

Worst Subject: All

Hobby: Pick-pocketing

Homeland: The Savage Seas

Body Type: Flat (Looks average thanks to her corset)

Jessie is the dorm leader of Bonäuber, a dorm based upon The Captain of the Seas, who is held almost as high regards as the Great Seven. She’s a very childish and extremely cocky girl. She always praises herself for being the best out of everyone, when in actuality she’s not the brightest. The only thing she is good at she is shooting a gun, loving a good hunt. She also has a child fascination for board games, so she often plays (and loses) with Azul and Idia.

Most don’t like her because she has a bad habit of stealing from anyone and everyone. This is because of her hard childhood, having to steal to survive with no family. The Savage Seas, and the isles among it, were tough on those with no wealth. It wasn’t until a kind pirate gifted saved her from a beating and gifted her a gold coin, her first coin. She now wears the coin on her neck and vows to become a pirate as great as The Captain, using her loot to make others who were in her shoes to have a good life. Because of her ambitions, she always goes for the rich when looting, Kalim being her main target. But because of how nice and generous he is, she gets flustered and runs away without a single coin. (It’s really cute ngl)

As a dorm leader she’s overly not strict, the most she can be is over how clean the dormitory is. Uniform isn’t strict as well, only forcing those in the dorm to wear the striped shirt, vest, belt, bandanna, and boots. Bottoms can be anything, and the corsets were optional. Most dorm members were interestingly mostly females, which confused many.

Their dorm building is a functioning pirate ship, usually docked on a deserted island. Occasionally the dorm will go on an adventure, since most are those who love the sea and can’t stay in one place.

Design Inspiration: Smee and Tick Tock Croc (and maybe Louis from the princess and the frog)

Birthday: Oct 3

Unique Magic: When I’m Human (let’s the user take a human form with little drawback, like Kalim’s Oasis Maker. This slowly wears off if the user is over emotional, most commonly anger.)

Best Subjects: All

Worst Subjects: None

Hobby: Making tea and treats for Jessie

Homeland: The Savage Seas

Body Type: Hourglass (looks more exaggerated thanks to her corset)

Sammy (what Jessie calls her) is the vice dorm leader of Bonauber, she’s very mysterious and weird to most in the school. She’s always by the shorter girl’s side, and always takes care of her. She is a big enabler, sharing her ambitions with the leader. She’s very humble about her intelligence and abilities, often only giving praise to Jessie. She’s almost like a mother for the leader.

She’s secretly a crocodile that saved (and traumatized) Jessie when they were younger. As she saw the little girl run from an adult, causing the reptile to attack the adult. She didn’t know why, but at the time a sudden feeling of protecting for the girl took over. Ever since then the reptile was drawn towards the girl, almost obsessive. It wasn’t until she developed her unique magic that she stuck with the girl from childhood. Jessie never realized, as Sam is very keen on keeping the object of her affections(?) in the dark. If anyone threatens the two, Sam will open her eyes and glare with her slit pupils as scales appear faintly.

And that’s all of them! After posting this I’ll start working on two things.

1: cards, I want to draw cards for them as if they are canon characters. I’ll work on the school uniform cards first!

2: Grim’s human design, this one will be easier as he’ll just be a sketch.

Again, feel free to ask any questions! I’ll answer with in character sketches! (with more elaborating in artist’s text) I’ll try my best to answer as many of them as I can! You can also dm me if you wish to just talk about twst with me!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst self insert #twst ocs #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland self insert

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lovelyirony · 5 years

Note

Ironwidow fake dating and cousin Sharon matchmaking

Nat and Tony have been friends since seventh grade, when Tony made fun of her drawing and in retaliation, Nat stuck a pencil in his thigh.

He grinned at her after sneakily getting a tissue from the front desk.

“You’re pretty good, Nat.”

“My name is Natasha.”

“Not to me, it’s not.”

So it becomes Nat and Tony. Tony and Nat. They do everything together, from attend the eighth grade pool parties and hate all of them to the freshman orientation in high school where they make fun of the senior leaders and sneak into the admissions office to make sure they have at least one class together. (And then change the schedule when they don’t.)

Tony has been in love with Natasha Romanoff since the first eighth grade pool party, when she showed up in a full wet suit because she didn’t like the way that their classmate Ivan liked her.

But, he hasn’t done anything about it. Why is that, everyone asks? Just ask her out!

Well, Tony has a special talent that is medically known as “anxiety,” but he also has common sense.

Natasha Romanoff is beautiful. She has gorgeous red hair, eyes that know everything about you before you even think they do, a wicked sense of humor, and a sense of self that is beyond anything Tony’s ever encountered.

Tony stays up until three a.m., doesn’t give a shit about his appearance so he is frequently rushing to school with the worst bed hair imaginable, and also wears possibly the most out-of-style clothing ever.

Like right now. A pair of jeans that’s too short and he cuffed only on one leg, a shirt that’s advertising some college Howard made him visit, and he’s pretty sure that the plaid he layered it with has a coffee stain down the back.

He’s proven right when Sharon wrinkles her nose.

“Dude, you seriously haven’t done laundry since two weeks ago, have you?”

“Do I smell bad? Do I?”

She leans in.

“No, just like old coffee. So regular. We’ll see when Nat comes. Or you could confess your love to have her not roast your choice of apparel.”

Tony scowls, adjusting his backpack.

“Do you have another topic, or are you just that boring?”

“I could also tell you about World War One,” Sharon adds. “I just read about it in one of those stupid textbooks I have to carry around. Did you know that the French are actually the worst at war?”

“Yes, everyone knows that. I think they know that too.”

Nat’s already at her locker. She looks gorgeous with her jean jacket, the new patches sewn on.

“Looking cute,” Sharon says appreciatively. “Do you think you’re gonna get dress-coded for the ‘fuck men’ patch?”

“Not if they want me to write an article on how the club fund got cut but the football team got another new field within four years,” Nat says.

“Still a good article,” Tony says. “If you could still get into a college without a reputation ruined. You know how much schools care about sports.”

“More than education at times!” Sharon cheers.

Nat snorts, bringing Tony into a hug.

“Nice to see you, dude. Ready for history?”

“Not in the slightest. We’re probably talking about government procedure again while our teacher waxes poetic about the justice system. I think I might try to change the FDA’s home screen again.”

“You know, they might catch on after the fourth time of you inserting random YouTube videos to different links.”

“It’s the Federal Department of Agriculture, I highly doubt they care,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’ve already proven that I’m probably better with technology than the government itself.”

This was true; Tony had hacked into the official website of the White House with shitty hotel Wi-Fi and half his sanity. (It was flu season, he’d had way too much Ny-Quil.)

School passes by with little incident, all things considered. A classic Monday, with the only real excitement being an announcement of no school the following Monday for a staff meeting.

It isn’t until Tony gets home to find both of his parents home and in the same room, waiting for him, that he starts to panic.

“Is this an intervention?” Tony asks. “Did I do something bad?”

“Not yet,” Howard says. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Dear,” Maria reprimands. “No, there’s an event that we want you to attend.”

“Want or need?” Tony asks. “I was supposed to hang out with my friend Bruce to work on his genetics lab.”

“I’m sure the lab can wait,” Howard scoffs. “You’re in high school, for god’s sake.”

“Bruce is doing lab work for Culver,” Tony says. “He got early acceptance, so he’s doing a weird deal so he gets college credit and a year off early.”

“Impressive, dear,” mom says, smiling. “But this event is something that you can’t miss.”

It’s a goddamn family reunion. Maria’s side, but still. At least Peggy and Sharon would come.

Family reunions on the Carter/Carbonell side are…interesting. A lot of loud people, aunts that couldn’t stop cooking, and at least one uncle that would say something marginally horrible and cause a rift for at least six hours where everything was tense.

Sharon had to take this advantage carefully.

So she got her own email into the family chain of them–a mistake by all accounts, but one that should be committed sooner rather than later–and tells the family that Tony is bringing his girlfriend, Natasha.

They both love each other, she knows that much. Tony looks at Nat like he could give her anything in the world, and Nat looks at him with so much vulnerability that she always says she doesn’t have.

They’ve liked each other for a while now. Sharon wishes that it wasn’t at her family reunion that she was doing this, but it was either that or a dance for high school, and that’s far too much work.

Tony, understandably, is stressed.

“Does she even know she’s going?!” Tony yells. “Holy shit Sharon, she’s going to meet like eighty of us!”

“Yeah,” Sharon says. “She just doesn’t know that she’s supposed to be your girlfriend.”

“Sharon.”

“Yes?”

“Run.”

Sharon squeals as she skids out of the room, Tony chasing after her. He’s not really going to do anything about it, but he still has to text Nat.

i am. so sorry

lmao it’s fine. sharon just said i’m going to the reunion. why?

funny story…

fuck what’d she do

she emailed everyone that i was bringing you as a girlfriend. and i’m not really going to spend the whole weekend correcting it.

gotcha. operation: fake dating commence!

thank you nat. seriously love you

Nat reads the message, but doesn’t respond. Of course Sharon would pull something like this. She knew that Nat liked her cousin, probably since they were kids.

And now she had to pretend to be his girlfriend, something she actually wanted very much to do.

She gets a text from Sharon.

Please don’t wear your jean jacket with all the patches. It’s very cool, but you will start a fight in my family and win. But then you aren’t allowed to come back :(

Natasha sends her back the middle finger, but then promises not to bring it.

This brings up the subject; what do you wear to a family reunion?

Tony’s fidgeting in the car as he goes to pick up Nat. His mother was very surprised.

“You got your father’s distinct habit of not shutting your mouth,” she says with a chuckle. “But I do suppose the gazes say it all. Every Carbonell man looks like he’s in love before he says it, so–”

“Mama, not now!” Tony hisses. Natasha’s making her way to the car, backpack slung around her shoulder and an elegant handbag in the crook of her arm.

“Hey Ms. Carbonell,” Natasha says. “How are you?”

“Doing good, better now that I get to have you with us,” she teases. “Anthony over here never told me that he was going to have you on as a special guest.” Natasha sends a raised eyebrow over to Tony.

“Oh?”

“I forgot,” Tony lied smoothly. “You know how I get in the labs. Just completely forget everything I’m supposed to remember.”

The conversation is easy after that: just a few little anecdotes that Nat and Tony have gone over last night over the phone. They had confessed that they liked each other a year ago, had kept it extremely low-key since both didn’t want to fuss with it, and that was that.

“How come Sharon knew but I didn’t?” Mom pouts.

“She’s an imp,” Tony answers. “An imp who doesn’t know how to keep business to herself.”

Their family fills up a small inn out of the way, and Tony sighs as he sees three of his aunts already conspiring at the bar.

“Be prepared for a barrage of questions.”

“Roger that.”

Natasha is whisked away by the ladies with a few compliments to the cute flats she’s wearing and her favorite type of perfume. Tony gets led over to Sharon, who is playing darts with Trip and their kind-of-but-not-really-cousin, Ricardo.

“What have I missed out on?” Trip asks, grinning. “Heard some girl was crazy enough to come and date you. She’s a looker, Tony.”

“Thanks,” Tony says. “But yes, crazy enough to date me. Sharon knows how crazy it is, I practically get the same gene from her.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, landing another bullseye. Ricardo curses.

“How do you always manage to do this?”

“Practice for this exact moment,” Sharon says with a grin. “Go get me a drink. One of the good ones.”

“You seriously get him to do your bidding every single time,” Tony says with a laugh. Trip excuses him to see Uncle Erik, leaving Sharon and Tony alone.

“So. You liking your new status of boyfriend?”

“You seriously need to stop meddling,” Tony scowls. “Just because I like her doesn’t mean she should be in on this.”

“She doesn’t mind,” Sharon scoffs. “Besides, I think Aunt Angie is going to tell her about the cardboard incident.”

“Oh my god–”

Natasha saunters over, grinning devilishly.

“So. Naked and a cardboard box for modesty? Why am I not surprised at the innovation, Tony?”

“Dammit,” Tony swears. “I’m going to learn something embarrassing about you. I’ll ask Clint.”

“Like he’ll tell.”

The reunion goes about as well as expected. Uncle Daniel finally spills the beans and says that his son who couldn’t make it was going to bring his girlfriend that no one likes, but they canceled at the last minute.

“They’re horrible,” Tony says. “I’m serious. They’re the kind of people that take advantage of old people.”

“Gross.”

They gravitate closer to each other. While Natasha doesn’t have a problem with this, it’s bittersweet. Every time Tony casually puts his arm around her and tells another story about how they snuck into the office to match schedules and his family coos and says it’s so cute, and Sharon smiles at them.

It stings, to be this close and yet knowing that it isn’t at all real.

Tony lies awake at night. Becuase this is nice. All of his family loves Nat, so does he, and it seems…possible almost. To have her this close, smiling at him like she has.

So it’s not a good idea, but he goes to her room at three a.m. She’s still awake.

“Why are you still awake?”

“Watching funny videos. Why are you awake?”

“That’s why I’m here. Follow me.”

They go into the courtyard. It feels…nice outside. Tony’s wringing his hands.

“What’s got you so nervous?” Natasha asks. “And why at three in the morning?”

“I think this is literally the only way I could do it,” Tony says. “Only time my family shuts up.”

“Go for it then,” Natasha says. “You have until four, when your baby cousin wakes up. Lorenzo?”

“Got it,” Tony says, smiling. “Um, well, I–”

“What?”

“Oh fuck,” Tony curses. “Listen, I’m just going to say it. I’m just going to say it.”

“You’ve said that twice.”

“Iloveyou.”

“What?”

“I…I love you,” Tony says, sighing. “I’ve loved you I think since eighth grade, and I’m now telling you because I don’t think I can just go on with life without telling you. I also realize that you’re stuck at the family reunion until this is over, so now I realize I’ve put stress on you and I’m sorry, I can fake my death if you really want me to, so–”

Natasha envelops him in a hug. She kisses his cheek, looking at him in the dim light of the lanterns.

“You absolute fool. I love you too.”

It’s the first of many “I love you’s.”

Sharon takes credit for the relationship, and Tony and Nat let her. She’s also the maid of honor and meets her future wife, Maria.

Tony and Natasha don’t go to the same college, but compete against each other in the trivia clubs that both schools have, and so they spend other time together. Natasha shows him her favorite tea shop downtown, and Tony shows her all of the hideaway spots he uses for studies.

(And to hide her away from Rhodey, who will tell her anything and everything that’s embarrassing about Tony.)

Right after college, Tony and Nat move into an apartment.

About a year later, Natasha holds out a gold ring for him to put on, asks if they really have to get married in a fancy church, and watches as Tony tears up and hugs her.

“I told you!” Sharon crows when they reveal the rings. “I told you that you would get married!”

“Okay loser,” Natasha says. “Then you’re the maid-of-honor. Congrats on throwing my bachelorette party.”

“I’m making us go paint-balling.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but looks at his now-fiancee.

Things will be good. Aren’t they always?

#holy FUCK this is long and it's not showing me my read more link #oh well!#lovelyirony writes #long post #this is long as fuck #ironwidow #sharon carter #iron man #black widow #natasha romanoff #tony stark #i love them okay #so much #i did this instead of read about the protestant reformation but all you need to know about that is martin luther hated the church #and everyone else hated martin luther #so that was fun #fake dating au #i love how i search up teh characters name to find this nad i can't #that's so sexy ;)

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 87

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: It’s too late to turn back now.

Summary: Genevieve gives a heavy dose of karma and learns about herself in the process. Alfie is once again reminded why he fell in love with her in the first place.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie was met with cold indifference that he knew was justified, no matter what his intentions were in his harsh words to Genevieve. He’d let the stress get to him and he’s forgotten to be delicate. She truly had come so far, but her defeat that he warned her of had pushed him too far and he found himself falling into the easy habit of giving his cold hard opinion in retaliation to someone going against what he said to do. He’s forgotten to treat the one soft thing in his life with just that when she needed it the most. And now she was gone.

There was no weakness behind her eyes that next morning. No hurt or shame to be found as he studied her from the opposite side of her dining room table. The great expanse between them more than suited for how distant they felt to each other now. They eat in silence, and she pays him no mind. He knows it’s warranted. As he had been helping her back to their room before he readied himself for work he calls out as she stands from her seat.

“Do you need me to-“

“No.” She states plainly with black eyes meeting his from across the room. “I won’t be requiring your help any further.” She states with cold biting tounge that he hasn’t heard since before the accident, and never directed at him.

“‘Course.” He says with a bow of his head as he sees Claire approaching her with a stack of paperwork, handing Gen her glasses as he saw she already had her plans for the day.

Their mornings continued in the same pattern. He ate as if he were invisible, and Gen came out fully dressed and talking shop over her meal with Claire about business. As much as it did hurt in its own way to be ignored, to see the result he had wanted all along forming in front of him as a result of his actions was still satisfying. The businessman in him was pleased, but the lover in him was not.

Genevieve felt a new. She felt self assured in a way she hadn’t even before the abuse. She knew now the cold and careless ways of the world

Outside. She was no longer approaching her work or life with a touch of whimsy, but the same harsh judgement it had given her. She got better faster, taking Alfies words in mind and not pushing but working forward at a steady pace. She stayed home but found her routine again, the maths and the reading and writing of her work. She walked the gardens, greenhouses and aviary and became one with her land and product again. She was slowly becoming what she felt she should have already, a confident but realistic woman who would no longer try to rule with love. She would rule now with respect, and if she found it Necessary, fear.

Claire was out conducting what would be the last of the solo collections for the rent of Genevieve’s properties. Seeing the state of her land without her constant oversight led the staff to have more than enough to keep busy to get things back to her standards, not a Normal one.

Gen’s feeling quiet and reserved this afternoon, a leisurely stroll around her estate to brainstorm and reflect. She found the click of her heels on the marble floors to be soothing as the architecture and decoration kept her eyes busy. She was planning for her future, wondering how to dispel the nasty rumors that had been going around about her, as she’s demanded Claire tell her them all. And she had. And now Gen was out to make everyone eat their words.

As she takes this thoughtful stroll she hears a female voice from the phone room. With narrowed eyes she approaches, knowing she’d told the girls no calls unless emergencies during work hours. And nothing had been approved by her so she prepares to scold an absent minded young girl. But the voice is not young and the words she hears stops her in her tracks and a new much stronger emotion creeps in.

“It’s been a bloody mad house let me tell you.” The women’s voice says and Gens hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “She’s a mess. Falling apart at the seams, she is. Her and Solomons don’t even speak anymore!” The delight she hears in the rumors being fueled by one of her own makes her eyes dilate and go black. Her shoulders relax and she spine stiffens, and she shifts into a mood that was far more intense than what she had felt before. “Who even knows! Wandering about naked in the garden! It’s shameful! Like some bloody pagan!” The woman laughs. “She talks to people who aren’t there you know? Almost sad.” She continues and Gen presses her back against the wall. Feeling the cool stone under her palms as she takes deep and slow breaths. No matter what the next words were there would be no saving this woman now. “They fight constantly! Shouting and hitting like children! He’s bound to leave her anytime now!” She exclaims as if she were proud as the red haze in Gennys eyes grew thicker, pulse pounding in her temple as she hears the nonsense spewed out into the Londoners ears that she was now having to help reign in. All this trouble from this woman. All this work because this cow couldn’t help herself. If this maid couldn’t help but talk, then Gen couldn’t help what she was going to do to her. “Once he finds out she’s pregnant with Horne’s child then he’ll be gone. She’s not bled still! How they are living in denial this deeply is BEYOND me!” She laments and Gen loses the last bit of reserve she had. Her brain makes the connection. This had happened before. This was Dorothy, the same woman who kept on with her passive aggressive compliments and mentioning things that triggered her. She was what made Gen lose control before, and she was about to cause it again.

If you were to ask her in approximately 15 minutes what happened she couldn’t tell you. But she most certainly knew the woman got what she had coming to her.

She meekly hangs up, and trots with her cloven hooves to the back hallways and Gen is right behind her. Silent as the night and eyes as dark with their blown pupils and no sign of remorse anymore. She saw only red and was going to kill Dorothy.

Dorothy moves into a dry goods pantry and Gen seizes the opportunity. She hadn’t felt this alive this...good in so long.

“Hello Dorothy.” She scares the woman as she clicks the door shut behind her.

She jumps and clutches her chest. “Oh Miss Durand! You startled me!” She laughs.

“Did I? And I thought nothing got past you in this house?” A single light bulb casts and eerie shadow on Gens hard and uncaring face. Dorothy watches as she takes a chair and wedges it under the doorknob and she starts to sweat.

“What ever do you mean Miss?” She stutters.

“You can drop the act you lying slag. I know you’ve been telling rumors and lies about me.” Her voice is deep and her shoulders shift with her body as she approaches the other woman, her body moving like a cat stalking its prey.

“What are you-?”

“I said… fucking… drop it.” She very literally growls and moves closer as the woman gives in.

Her shoulders slump and she sighs. “So you FINALLY found out. I knew Solomons was into me but not you.” She shakes her head.

“Even counting the days I bleed? What sort of fucked up woman does that? Do you have no life of your own that you must insert yourself into mine and try to belittle me?”

“I was paid to, don’t flatter yourself. Some high class London woman told me about this job after my former passed. Knew I’d be suited to help take you and Solomons down.”

“Why?”

“Because someone should.” She snarls back as Gen looks her up and down. “You’re nuttier than a fruitcake love don’t ya know?” She snaps back. “People should know you’re mad as a hatter out here and taking Solomons with you!”

“So someone who doesn’t like our lifestyle.” She responds calmly.

“No one should! You’re a loon and he’s a criminal!”

“Then we were made for each other hmm?” She smirks.

“See! You make no bloody sense! you’re both awful and hide behind your money. He’s a murderer and you’ve been beaten senseless.”

“You forgot one thing.” Gen says with a wicked smile that makes the maids blood run cold as she realized the danger of the company she was in.

“Wha- What?”

“He’s not the only murderer.” A smile that grows slowly, time enough for fear to cross Dorothy face. There was that look Gen missed. The one where they knew they were going to die. She hums at the feeling of control again. She’d missed it so.

What follows is a damn near artistic display of violence and gore from Genevieve. From the first pounce, the shrill scream of her victim sending chills of delight across her skin she blacks out, gives in to the dark part of her mind and loses herself.

When she comes to the door is being beaten in behind her, concerned shouts from the other side and her thumbs are dug into Dorothy’s brain. Her face was beaten into an unrecognizable pulp, broken bones led the body to lay in a most haunting and unnatural way. Gen was covered in blood spatter from beating the woman’s face into the stone floor. She’d taken every bit of frustration out on her and she felt… amazing.

Gasps and cries of shock are heard as the door finally breaks and Gen is pulled away. The red of blood lending a lovely contrast to her white and navy business ensemble.

Aggie screams at her only inches away, face full of concern but Gen only smiles. “I’m lovely Aggie. Thanks for asking.” She says despite not hearing what the woman said. She only stared at the body in the floor and heard a high pitched tone that drowned out most everything else.

Aggie face is confused and turns to fear when Gen starts laughing. She’s snapped she thinks. And to a degree she was right, but it was only temporary.

Gen comes to a realization. She’d seen this before. She’d been Aggie in this scenario. Arthur had spells like this, of inhuman violence and wild abandon. His mad dog side they’d called it. She hadn’t understood it until now. She realizes she owes him some apologies. She understood now. She had to break and put herself back together just like he had after the war...and now they were one in their madness. She thought it all very sentimental.

“GENEVIEVE ARE YOU HURT?!” Finally breaks through. Her eyes turn to Claire who does not look afraid, and that was why she adored her so much to be honest.

“I’m fine.” Gen responds with a shake of her head. “Not hurt.” She says looking down and touching, double checking herself.

“Who IS that? WHY?” She demands.

“Dorothy. She was a paid spy who has been leaking the rumors.” She calmly states and recognition comes across Claire’s face.

“What did you...do to her?”

“I killed her it seems.”

“Yes but...you’ve never done THAT before Gen. are you sure you’re-?”

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time cheri.” She smiles up at her friend. “But I’m afraid I don’t know what I did. I must’ve blacked out in anger.” She works thought he erased space of time.

“Well that…” Claire shrugs. “That would make sense.” She mutters. “So you had proof she was the one doing it?”

“I heard her.” Gens nose twitches in anger but seeing the blood spot where the woman’s head used to be makes her feel better. “Every disgusting word. Some high class cunts hired her to spread stories and help bring Alfie and I down.” Gen blinks rapidly. “Alfie.” She says looking to the doorway. “He should know.” She adds quietly.

“He should be on his way home at this hour. What a surprise for him today.”

“At least it is a good one.” Gen says with a tilt of her head.

Claire looks at her befuddled and lets out a nervous laugh. Gen seemed perfectly aware and coherent. But good lord what she’d done to that woman was anything but.

—————

Alfie comes home to very skittish and whispering maids. Taking his coat off and hanging it, narrowing his eyes at them before shouting.

“FUCKIN’ WOT, EH?” Causing them to jump and scurry away.

“Alfie.” Claire says with a tone he knows means nothing good. Her hand resting on the archway towards the kitchens

“What now?” He says loudly and shoves his feet into his slippers, taking his suspenders off his shoulders as he begins rubbing his temple.

“Just follow me.” She says with a less problematic delivery.

“Now I can’t even know what’s going on in me own house?” He gets out before rounding the corner and seeing Gen standing, covered in blood. Much to her surprise when she sees him he rushes towards her and holds her face. She meets him with wide blinking eyes that look mildly confused. “What happened, love? Are ya hurt?” Looking her up and down and touching her lightly.

She takes his hands slowly and puts them back down at his aides and his brow furrows further at her reaction.

“I’m perfectly fine.” she pauses and her lips form a tight line before she continues. “... but I did kill a maid.”

“YA FUCKIN WOT?” He shouts his face moving quickly to angry.

“The pantry.” She points casually and he steps back, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell Genny. Gods not gonna recognize her sendin’ her back like that.” He remarks with a raised brow. “Ya fuckin...I ‘on’t even know who that is! Can’t even identify the body in that state.” He continues and scratches his head. “And you did this?” His tone turns to concern.

“I did.” She nods and looks unaffected.

“Ya mind telling me fuckin’ WHY ya turned her head to mash?” He exclaims.

“Her name was Dorothy.” She states factually without emotion. The name immediately rings a bell for Alfie. “I caught her calling out and telling lies and stories about me, and you. And us. Nasty rumors I know you’ve heard by now. Us fighting, me pregnant with…” She takes a deep breath and her eyes meet his with a boldness he knows means she was indeed sane for the time being. “Horne’s child. The hallucinations, pagan rituals, every sort of thing. It was her.” She nods her head in the direction of the headless body.

“I KNEW that one was off!” He snaps and growls looking at her again then to the floor towards Gen. “I told her not to make calls during work hours once before. Guess she didn’t listen eh?” He remarks sarcastically before taking steps towards Gen.

“Someone hired her as an insider. Some high class person to infiltrate and destroy us.”

“She said that?” He responds quickly.

Gen nods and Alfies face contorts in thought. “They don’t like our lifestyle. Don’t think people like us should be in their world.”

“Nothing new.” Alfie grumbles. “What a fuckin pain in the arse though yeah? The bollocks to plant someone! And to further harm a sick woman! Fuck those posh cunts. Swear I’d like to bash their fuckin’ heads in meself!” He proclaims with a groan after. “ But you…” He begins and puts his hands on her shoulders. “You did exactly what you should’ve. I would’ve done the same.” He says with eye contact and sincerity to his voice that breaks through her now useless resentment towards him.

She nods in agreement. “I couldn’t let her live after the things she said. I knew what I was doing but, I just kept...going. Until there was nothing of her left.”

“Ya okay now it seems.” He offers.

“Yes. Perfectly.” She shrugs. “It felt damn good to do that to her truthfully.”

“I’d say so.” He reserves his judgements and feels an inkling of optimism for Gen and their future. She was always a killer, but before Horne never to this degree. She’d snapped like one of the boys in the field. But there was no screaming and hitting to bring her back thankfully, but he could use this brutality to his advantage. “I’ll take care of this, love.” He says with a nod to her, being sure to meet her eyes and show support that he had so severely been lacking in doing as of late.

“No.” She says gently with a shake of her head. “I will.” She clears her throat and looks over to Claire who’s pleasantly surprised by the exchange between them. The most they’d spoken in around a week and certainly the most affectionate. “Gather the staff. All of them. In the ballroom. We need to get some things straight.” She says before sighing and looking to the body in the pantry. “Could use some help cleaning that up though.” Says before turning to look at Alfie again.

“I can certainly do that. Get my lads on it.” He nods and follows her lead. “Won’t have to worry about no one identifying the body at least.” He offers in a light hearted way.

she blinks slowly as if she’s considering it. “I do suppose that’s true.” She reflects in a thoughtful tone and moves to the meeting place.

With the varied people all standing and most looking confused in the golden and marbled ballroom, Gen walks in from the hallway slowly with clicking heels and blood still covering her clothes. Alfie stands back at the entryway and observes.

“There was a woman murdered here today. Her name was Dorothy. Some of you knew her, others didn’t. But I want to take this occasion to make some very important statements. Best you listen well.” She stands with her back straight and her eyes piercing into each person as she speaks. “We will deny this woman ever existed. She never worked here. We haven’t heard of her and she was never here in any capacity. You say nothing and heard nothing.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, adding to the delivery. “She was here as a spy to take us down. To spread lies and rumors by those who would oppose our successes. By those who do not approve of Mr. Solomons and mine ways of conducting business. They dared to send a rat aboard my ship when I was incapacitated. This shows me there is a new line drawn now for us. For me. This for each of you. There are people out to get us. Who want to destroy what we’ve worked so hard to build. They want to kill us and our way of life and we will not allow it. If you think that they are after only Alfie and myself you should remind yourself that our ruin is yours. If you have had the good fortune to only ever work for me, then you do not know of the horrors that await lovely little girls with no families in other homes. There is no school, adequate housing or support. There is back breaking work, rape and no future.” Some of the girls shift and show their discomfort. “I killed this Dorothy for what she has tried to do. And I will make sure personally that anyone else that tries to betray me will also be met with a violent end just as she was. I will not tolerate anything but loyalty. For this is a new era for myself and all of you. My successes are yours, and my downfall is shared by you as well. You’d do well to remember that. And if you cannot, leave now or go see the remains in the pantry before they’re gone so you can know what your future holds.” She holds the room in apt attentions all eyes on her. “Nothing will change in this moment for you. Go on about your work. But best you remember who takes care of you, yes? Because I can end you just as easily.”

The room is silent except for the stray gulp or sniffle. She gives a stern nod and exits after a drawn out silence here she eyeballed each girl to get a read on them. She was hoping she had fully put the fear into them.

Alfie watches her walk past him and down the hall to her wing like he’s invisible. He feels an odd churn in his stomach. One he hadn’t felt in months.

The power was still coming off her as her stone face readied for bed with its creams and primping. She was back in her sheer and flowy gowns, having noticed their reappearance after their last fight. She felt strong and womanly in them, showing her body that carried her through these challenges proudly. She empowered by herself and her nudity and her mind once more. All aspects of herself forming a newly evolved woman who was more based in reality and fact, less heart and more mind. Her new take on life killed pieces of her old self, but in their absence a new woman was born. And she was ready to take back her power.

There was that stomach roll again as he sat in silken pajamas and watched her over his half circle glasses while she took strides around her room. Her body language most certainly sold that it was her space, and his body was responding to it.

She takes off her dressing gown and matching slippers, lotioned and potioned and ready for a well deserved rest as she slides into bed and as it has been she pays Alfie not much mind. He decides it’s time to change that.

“Genevieve, love?” He asks politely as she settles back into a pile of pillows, propped up and facing him with her journal in hand.

“Yes?” Her eyes bright and attentive to him as they meet his without hesitation now.

“I wanted to tell you that I support your handling of the situations that came to pass today.” He leans in to speak to her with a calm but still gruff tone.

“Thank you.” She accepts with a nod.

“And I know we’ve been in a bit of a bad way yeah? And I hope that we can start to mend that now. Seein’ as you’re so boldly taking things into your hands again. Which is lovely to see that is.” He gives her a genuinely supportive series of nods.

He could sense her reservation but she wasn’t angry anymore it felt. “Thank you again, Alfie. I would like for us to… mend what’s been broken over these past months. Now with others out to take down both of us, and in such a tasteless manner, it’s important for us to appear as a united front. We are stronger together than apart. And I believe in time we will… mend as you said both our personal and professional relationships.”

She speaks so diplomatically about their lives it should’ve made him feel cold or detached. It should’ve made him not want to warm up to her, to touch her and tell her how proud he was of her. But it did.

“As all things it will come in time. Not only do I need more time to process and grow but more reflection on your behalf wouldn’t hurt either.” Her words were not meant to anger him, she was speaking like he would in a transaction. She was being level and honest and telling him what she wanted and not much caring if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. And he hates to admit it but he loved it. “We’ve been through a lot. Best not rush the apologies and… romance until the more important things are handled, yes?”

He wanted to kiss her for her stern words. Wanted to tell her this woman was more perfect than the last, this rational and striking ball buster with her own needs first was making him want her something terrible. “‘Course love.” Is his measured response with an approving nod. “Couldn’t have said it better meself.” He adds as he situated into the covers. “May I wish you a goodnight?”

Her eyes moves back over to him and he swears there’s a ghost of a smile behind her calculated tilt of her head. “You may.” Her voice almost as a purr to him.

He leans over and kisses her cheek innocently. “Goodnight love. Sleep well.” He adds with a charming furrow of his brow.

“Goodnight, Alfie. I believe I will.”

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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#alfie solomons #peaky blinders #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons angst #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons fan fic #alfie solomons fan fiction #peaky blinders fan fiction #peaky blinders fic #tom hardy #peaky blinders fan fic

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final-fantasy-mama · 5 years

Text

Rimfire Bubble bath (ch.5)

OKKKKKKKkkkkkayyyyy so, Emet and Wol get into some risky bathtub business. No smut in this chapter but the next one will have explicit content. I am writing it in a separate chapter so those who dont want to read it can skip over it but still get some teasing from Emet in this chapter.

Normally I would insert a Amarout chapter here BUT i only have one more planned so ill save it for a bit later on down the story line. Enjoy!

FFXIV EMET SELCH X MCH WOL

“The tragedy that had befallen you is of your own making. Devine retribution for your defiance. The heavens have bequeathed to you a benevolent savior, me! I offer you freedom from pain and suffering, a paradise where man and sin eater might live in peace and harmony..” ~ Vauthry

The hero growled through clenched teeth with a rage that was uncharacteristic of her usual cool exterior. Right now, she just couldn’t hold it back. Her itching trigger finger reached for her musketoon with a arm that dripped with fresh blood from a shoulder wound gone undressed. Bullets flew from her gun at the dirigibles that flew overhead with Vauthrys guttural and all too arrogant voice coming over loudspeakers to castigate all the poor folk below who had managed to survive his sin eaters onslaught. She knew the bullets would not be of any avail but she prayed that one would find Vauthry’s heart and put an end to that bastard’s life. She kept firing until her bullets ran out and her arm throbbed with too much pain to keep the musket raised.

Around her, the moans and cries of injured Crystarium soldiers echoed in the night as they mourned for fallen friends and comrades. The attack was unwarranted, took them completely off guard and was meant to destabilize and demoralize them. It worked. Even Lyna, the Viera knight, was about to break into tears though she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt not to. It was going to be a long night of pain and tears for all them who had survived the evening’s bloodbath.

Someone’s hand reached for her Musketoon as another one gently wrapped around her waist, easing the rage out of her. Emet Selch had appeared at her side, gently taking her gun from her burning hands and whispering soft words into her ear. “You’re injured, inamorata. Relax….it is over.” Only with those words did she realize how much her lungs burned as she hyperventilated, her muscles locked up from adrenaline and sweat dripped from her brow. Like a tight coil she slowly unwound and Emet caught her in his arms, cradling her in his chest as he helped her to sit on the ground.

Her companions ran to and fro helping the injured, pausing slightly to stare at the Ascian and the hero together in a odd moment of intimacy, but having to put it out of their minds as injured soldiers took priority. “There is not much more you can do here tonight.” Emet pointed out.

“I can’t leave until everyone has been removed from the battlefield.” She said in a tired breathy voice.

“I would not expect you to.” Emet said. “But you are no worse for wear at the moment, so I will ever be watching you from the shadows. Whistle for me should you need me.” And with that he disappeared in a cloud of black aether.

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

By the time the entire entourage returned to the Crystarium and the chirurgeons had their way with the hero, she had not the strength to even stand on her own. And so it was out of pity, sort of, that Emet Selch carried the exhausted Machinist back to her room in the pendants. She was scarcely conscious when the door to her room opened and he stepped inside with her in his arms, face buried in the side of his coat. Her bandaged shoulder was left oncovered with her white poet shirt draped around the rest of her for modesty’s sake. He set her down gently on the bed, stretching her out so she was straight on her back as he plucked off her antiquated boots and tried to make her more comfortable. She groaned from both pain and sheer fatigue.

“Hero, you need to bathe.” Emet said.

“Are you saying I smell bad?” She yawned.

“To put it gently, you smell like something that may have come out of Vauthry’s gullet.”

“Fuck you.”

There was a small pause.

“You’d find me a willing participant if that was what you desired.” He said in his charming seductive voice.

“Too tired to bother…”She groaned.

“Then allow me the pleasure of seeing you to a hot bath at the very least.” He snapped his fingers and a long claw footed tub appeared in the room along with a fluffy white robe hanging on a coat rack. She made some mangled noise in protest as he looked down at her. She was holding her arms out to him the way a pouty child might to a parent. It was unexpectedly adorable.

“I’m giving you permission to bathe me, nothing more. So no funny business.” She warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah you would.”

“Only a little.” He admitted as he helped her stand up and walked her to the tub. She cleared her throat and motioned for him to turn around which he obliged, though not without a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh. Quickly stripping from her clothes and tossing them in a pile to the floor, she climbed into the water and drew her knees up to chest. Her shoulder stung but she managed to not gasp as the hot water caressed it.

“You can turn around now.” She said and he did just so, having a good look at her before taking off his heavy jacket and tossing it on the bed. Rolling up his sleeves, he knelt behind her and brushed her hair to one side, the tips of his fingers grazing her neck as she gasped.

“What are you…?”

“Hush!” he said sternly as he once again snapped his fingers and a bar of soap appeared in one hand, a small handled bucket in the other. He doused her with water as she cried out at the hot sudden sensation and then worked the soap into a lather in her hair. Working his fingers through her scalp thoroughly. She thanked the gods he was not facing her while he administered his ministrations, because she was dead sure her facial expression was nothing short of scandalous. She had never had anyone bathe her, so the sensation of being this pampered was wholly unknown and frankly it made the pit of her stomach tingle.

With her hair now rinsed and clean, Emet’s hands worked their way to her trapezius muscles and he gently pressed into them with his thumbs. She gasped in a way that was a tad embarrassing as her back arched involuntarily, head threw back and knees dropped below the water. Oh twelve have mercy she just exposed her whole front side the Ascian looking over her shoulders. Indeed, he saw the entire kit and kaboodle and his face told her he wasn’t displeased with what he saw. Her cheeks flushed and she quickly scrunched herself back up into ball and buried her face in her knees.

“You are so sensitive, my dear.” He teased.

“Shut up. I’ve never had a massage before.” She grunted.

“Never ever?”

“Who’s got time for that?”

“My my. This is a bit of a problem, if I can’t even touch you without you making such noises and faces.” He coo’d.

“Knock it off, Emet Selch. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

“Let’s try something else then. As much as I would love to see more of your erotic expressions….” He moved positions to the side of the tub and took her hand in his. Then he began to rub the flesh around her palm and wrist, the areas where she held her gun and always chaffed or had callouses. She turned her face to side so she could watch him, the position less intimate so she felt more comfortable. Letting out a long sigh, she relaxed and let him massage up the length of her arm .

If she were any other women, she supposed she could take the Ascian to bed, indulge in her self desires, revel in passions of a one night stand. But she was never that type of person. In a sense it was frustrating how others could go through life consumed by their own desires and she could not. She was the warrior of light after all, someone was always going to need her to be at her best so she couldn’t take risks the way others could. She also had her little girl to think about. Come to think on it, Emet also had children in one point in time and she wondered if he had even enjoyed it or cared for his family. He outlived them all with the exception of Varis and Zenos, but it was obvious upon meeting them both that there was no love lost for their Great Grand Sire.

“You keep sighing.” Emet pointed out. “That usually means you have a question to ask or something pressing on your mind.”

“Its nothing.” She said sadly.

“Obviously not if you keep making faces like that.”

“I make a lot of strange faces, as you’ve already noticed.” She chuckled.

“You also keep many things to yourself.”

“No more so than you.”

“As an Ascian I am entitled to many secrets.”

“As a woman, I’m entitled to mine.”

“You’re not as tired as I thought if you can talk back like that.” He rolled his eyes and stood up quickly, however the lady refused to relinquish his hand and yanked him back sharply without thinking. His feet slipped out from under him on the wet floor and he came crashing down into the water on top of the hero. When he surfaced he had the warrior precariously pinned beneath him and hands on either side of her head gripping the tubs rim.

“Oh Hero.” He practically moaned as he gazed down at her. “You need only ask if you wished me to join you.”

She panicked and slapped her hands over his eyes so he couldn’t see anything. “You’ve got the wrong idea!”

“You were trying to drown me then?” He asked with hands still over his eyes.

“It was reflex! I wasn’t thinking!”

He pushed against her hands and swooped down till his face hovered over her collar bone. “So then you secretly want me oh so much you’re limbs act without reason?” His breath tickled her and she squirmed against the tub, pushing herself back against the porcelain as far as she could. His body weight on her legs kept her from being able to escape any further or jump out of the tub.

“I give you an inch and you take a bloody mile!” She complained and kept her hands firmly planted on his face and tried to push him back. Its was futile either way, he could easily overpower her if he wanted. Smarmy Ascian that he was though, he wasn’t going to let her go without a thorough teasing. “Wasn’t our agreement that you wouldn’t coerce or force me to do anything?”

“I am a man of my word. So far you have not said no or stop or tried to put a gun to my head or bullet through me.” He pointed out and pushed again to reach the hero’s neck where he planted a small kiss.

She saw stars for a moment and tried to get her wits about her. Just say NO, just say NO , Just say NO, she chanted in her mind but with each kiss he planted up her neck she felt her mind going more and more blank. If she didn’t figure out a way or excuse to get out of this, she would make love to him then and there and that would cause more problems than solve.

“I don’t see why you resist it so.” He breathed against her neck between kisses. “There is nothing wrong with indulging yourself once in a while. You deserve to have your needs met as much as any other creature.” He nipped at her jawline and she made a small noise. “What I am offering you is oh so simple. Pleasure. No hidden motives, no scheming, no lies, just simple pleasure for two weary souls long since denied any respite in this cruel and blasphemous world.”

The twelve be damned! He knew all the right words and just where to whisper them! And so reluctantly, against her better judgement she dropped her hands from his eyes. His yellow half lidded gaze was the end of her. She did want him the way any woman would want a man. She wanted to experience him and everything that he was despite him being an Ascian. Gods, it had been ages since she wanted anyone, felt anything for any man, and of all beings for her to lust after it had to be Emet Selch.

“The fates are undeniably cruel….”She conceded, something sad filling her eyes as she looked down for a moment but he caught her chin in his fingers and forced her to look up at him again.

“For tonight, it need not be. Lie with me.” He whispered.

She closed her eyes and felt herself slipping away, carried off by the currents of lust and longing. She took in a shaky breath and replied. “Yes….”

#shadowbringers fanfic #final fantasy xiv #fanfiction #emet selch x wol #im a dirty minded bitch #i love trashmen

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justadram · 5 years

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Fic: Beach Week, pt 2

Part 1 here. Jon x Sansa

Beach Week: You drink. You hook up. So what if he’s your brother’s best friend?

Sansa spends a restless night twisting under the scratchy rental house sheets, rehashing two dozen memories she’s got stored up about Robb’s best friend and wondering if she’s been missing something for a while. Then it’s a distracted day, trying to go about her business and not look like she’s suddenly paying attention to every little thing Jon does. But she is, and she can’t help herself.

The sex is great.

Not something she ever expected to learn about Jon. Secondhand or firsthand. And yet, she has and she could, because Asha probably isn’t wrong about Jon being interested in her.

He’s got that fair skin like she does that gives everything away, when she catches him looking. Smiling back at him—To be encouraging? To make it not weird? At first, she’s not even sure—only makes the flush of his cheeks worse. But he’s kind of hot despite his embarrassment. Maybe he’s hot because of his embarrassment. Cocky self-assurance is a turn-off at this point.

Joff got embarrassed, but it made him scary angry rather than sweetly self-conscious; and Harry didn’t give a second thought to how people perceived him. Maybe sensitive is the way to go.

Sansa has a very active imagination. It’s from all the reading probably. Isn’t that what they used to say? Too many novels were bad for young girls? She’s got a lifetime worth of romantic scenarios just a daydream away, ready for the insertion of whatever guy she’s crushing on. Even though she’s known him all her life and that could make it weird, it doesn’t take a lot of mental gymnastics to picture herself and Jon. Actually, all the random details she knows about him, how familiar he is to her, how comfortable it usually is between them, makes it a lot easier to picture how it could be. Like Asha said, but in other ways too. Couple ways.

God, she’s really thinking about what it would be like to date Jon.

Or they could just hook up. That’s what Asha meant, and for once in her life she could be that girl. Unattached and fun and determined to get what she wants. Who cares that he’s her brother’s best friend? Before Beach Week is over, she wouldn’t mind testing out Asha’s glowing assessment, because Jon’s being interested—and not for the first time, come to think of it—is kind of hot.

“Hey,” she says, as she arranges herself on the floor next to him at dinner, cross-legged and balancing her paper plate in her lap.

Even if he’s worried about Robb, it probably wouldn’t take much to get him to break down and make a move. Not with the way he’s been looking at her. Just a little encouragement probably, which she happens to be pretty good at.

He’s got a mouth full of hamburger that he tries to swallow so as to respond, but she nudges him with her elbow and fills the silence with an innocently voiced question before he can finish. “Do you remember that time we went swimming in the Lannister’s pool, when they were out of town? You and me? And everyone?”

It occurred to her last night, when she couldn’t fall asleep. Had to be four years ago, because she’s pretty sure Jon and Robb were seniors. Her parents were out for the evening, and they were under strict directions to behave themselves. That would have included not climbing the neighbor’s fence. Definitely not swimming at midnight with music playing too loud. Normally, Sansa would have refused to join them—she might have even called her parents to tattle—but it was July and the water was warm, and she couldn’t fight the allure.

They were fooling around, playing some game Arya insisted on, when all Sansa wanted to do was float on the big white swan and stare up at the stars. But despite being terrible at the games her siblings liked, Sansa ended up tagging Jon in the deep end.

Their skin felt slick, sliding against each other, as she wrapped her arms triumphantly around his neck. It felt nice in a way she wasn’t expecting, and she remembers how she stared at him like he was something entirely new. It was the first time she felt the electric thrill, the jolt of want and toe-curling conceit from knowing someone wanted her. Testing that feeling wasn’t something she was ready for, but she liked the sensation of him hard against her hip and his arms circling her waist. It’s why she didn’t let go or scream in protest, like the flat line of his mouth indicated he was convinced she was about to, as she slid higher up his body with a shift of her grip.

No, she didn’t want him to turn loose at all and if they’d been alone, she would have been happy to cling to him like a starfish all night. But they weren’t alone—Robb was messing with the playlist and Arya was shouting about revising the rules she’d made up—and guys can only take so much. She knows that now. So, when he’d peeled her off with a mumbled apology, she stuck her tongue out and then commenced not speaking to him for three months.

She smiles around her fork. “That was fun.”

Yes, he almost chokes, which isn’t the sexy response she’s fishing for, but the way she flusters him makes her feel powerful.

“Is that right?” he finally manages.

“We should have more fun like that, don’t you think? It being Beach Week and everything.”

He looks away from her and back, as he sucks in a breath. “You’re trouble.”

“Am I?”

“I thought you were the good Stark.”

The way he narrows his eyes at her is almost playful. He can tease her if he likes. Messing around with Jon might be fun, despite the sullen pout.

No, the pout looks kissable, which is how she knows she’s going to kiss him tonight. What’s the harm in a kiss? More than a kiss if it’s really nice.

Except, it feels like he’s avoiding her when he disappears after dinner. She drinks one and a half beers, slowly to keep her head about her, before she sees him through the kitchen window. He’s out on the porch with his foot up on the rail, sitting with the half of the house not loudly playing beer pong. Somehow he got by her to get out there.

She grabs an extra beer to use as a friendly offering. If she goes out there and he gets up and runs, it’ll look weird. He’s as good as cornered.

Squeezing in between the array of occupied plastic chairs on the porch, two Solo cups held aloft, she makes to join the group, stepping over stretched out legs in barefoot relevé. There isn’t a chair left for her to curl up in with her legs tucked inside her sweatshirt, but being short a chair is part of her evolving plan.

His whole body visibly tenses, when she pauses before his chair, and he grips the arms as if he might stand. He doesn’t have cotillion manners, but as far as thoughtful gestures go, Jon’s a natural. He’s been sleeping on the couch in the living room and she has an actual bedroom she’s supposed to be sharing with absentee Jeyne, but if Sansa told him she needed to crash on the couch, he’d give it up without a second thought. He’s always been like that. He helped move her into her dorm freshman year, hulking boxes in the heat along with her dad and Robb with a lot less complaining about the amount of stuff she’d brought with her.

She extends the cup that’s full to the rim to keep him from getting up. “I got this for you.”

Their fingers brush, and he says thanks after looking from her to the cup and back again, while she stands there, pretending to drink. He lifts his beer slowly, as if he’s waiting for her to walk away, but that’s not going to happen.

Okay, it’s just a ratty band t-shirt, but his arms look really good in it. Whatever her thoughts on lacrosse at the moment, it does a body good. Seriously.

“You mind?” she asks, even as she’s toeing in between his spread legs and lowering herself onto his thigh. Casually. With a big, totally non-threatening smile. All teeth. Nothing flirty about it.

Asha snorts from her corner of the porch, but what’s potentially more awkward than Jon’s caustic friend’s presence is Sansa’s brother, who’s balanced on the rail and staring. He ignores her a good ninety percent of the time like any other older brother, but now his eyes are zeroed in on her, an interloper suddenly interfering with his friends. She twists in Jon’s lap and gives Robb the same innocuous smile. Just a bunch of friends. Hanging out. Talking about whatever it is they’re talking about. A few chairs short unfortunately. Nothing he needs to worry about.

She turns back and taps Jon’s cup with hers, a dorky little cheers that makes his mouth twitch. Friendly, friendly, friendly.

“What are we talking about?” she asks, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“Um.” Jon clears his throat. “Lacrosse team stuff.”

Great.

Sansa wonders what Robb and Jon and the rest of them are going to talk about now that they’ve graduated, because it’s always team stuff, to which she has nothing to contribute. Not for lack of knowledge. Robb was captain this year; he deserved it, considering what he contributes on and off the field. Theon has a habit of taking too many chances on offense, but most of them pay off. Jon’s really good. Better than anyone gives him credit for, and she’d know, because she goes to every game. But with Harry also being on the team, it’s currently her least favorite subject.

“Yay,” she says flatly.

In her peripheral vision, she can see Robb screwing up the one side of his mouth, but whatever he makes of her plopping down in his best friend’s lap, his complaint is silenced, when Jeyne turns him back to her for a quick kiss. Either it’s just good timing or Jeyne thinks Sansa could use some help. Either way, she’ll take it.

Marg firmly believes what Sansa needs is a harmless hookup. Which feels a little chancy. Her ability to judge guys has been questionable at best, but she’s pretty sure Jon is a good guy. Like a real good guy. She’s probably safe with her brother’s best friend. He’s nice to her little siblings and her dad really likes him. He knows Robb would kill him anyway, and if he can be friends with Asha after, it’ll be cool between them.

Everyone except for Asha, who’s silently chain smoking, goes back to spiritedly recounting that win they managed in spite of Theon’s hand injury. They’ll probably end up talking through every play just like they did two nights ago, when this same exact story came up. No one cares about Robb’s little sister’s appearance on the porch or her chosen spot on it. Alcohol is great for creating invisibility in a crowd.

“So, what are you doing this summer?” she asks, steadying herself with a hand high on his thigh.

The muscle bunches beneath his jeans.

Since no one cares anymore, this time when she smiles, it’s not quite so innocent. The way Jon’s eyes skim over her, he can tell the difference.

“I’m, uh, starting my internship.” His voice has that raspy, bedroom quality that makes her press her lips together.

“At the veterinary hospital?” Jon’s always been really good with animals.

He nods.

“No camp this year?”

“Nope,” he says, pausing for a drink. “I’ll be around.”

It almost sounds like an offer.

It could just be passing interest on his part, and that would be fine. Perfect really for her purposes. She doesn’t need him to be violently in love with her. A little messing around, where she doesn’t have to pretend to be enjoying herself if she’s not, where she doesn’t owe the guy anything, would be perfect. But she hopes if it gets that far, it’ll be good; she really, really hopes so, because sex has always been kind of not so great and she’d rather it was for once.

“You helping out at the dance studio again?”

She didn’t think Jon had any idea how she spent her summers. “Yeah, I’ll be around too.”

That most definitely is an offer if he wants to take her up on it.

“Hold on,” he instructs.

Looping an arm around her middle to keep her from slipping off his lap, he shifts to pull his phone out from his back pocket. He sets it on the wide arm of the chair and sits back, dragging her squarely into his lap with a gentle tug.

The whole thing is kind of smooth. It’s definitely a maneuver, but it’s smoother than she would have thought Jon capable. Asha might have needed to make the first move for him, but Jon’s not entirely hopeless.

She lets her weight settle against his chest and pulls one leg up, toes curling over the edge of the chair. His eyes follow the bend of her leg.

“You cold?”

“A little,” she admits.

“You’ve got goosebumps.”

His right-hand spreads over her thigh. The goosebumps climb up the back of her neck, prickling along her scalp.

“Yeah, I think I’m done with this,” she says, setting her mostly full beer next to his on the arm of the chair. “Too cold. We need hot chocolate or something instead.”

“Like your mom makes,” he says, drumming his fingers against her skin.

He’s got good hands. Nice wrists. She thinks about those hands on her, in her, and her breath catches. There are like eight people on the porch, and she still wants to loop her fingers in his hair and drag his mouth against hers.

“Hey, man.”

Robb’s voice makes her jump, but for all of Jon’s embarrassment earlier, he doesn’t seem rattled by his friend, standing there with an arm around his girlfriend. Jon doesn’t even remove his hand from her thigh. It feels like it’ll leave a print if he does. Marked.

“What’s up?” he asks, sounding remarkably unaffected, just as all her calm cool is evaporating.

“So, we’re going to go play beer pong.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“You want to join?”

“I’m good. You?” Jon asks with a glance at her.

Sansa shakes her head. Jeyne winks at her, which makes her think it wasn’t just good timing a few minutes ago, but otherwise, they leave without anyone pointing out there are chairs available now that Sansa could easily occupy. Instead of Jon’s lap.

“You’re holding your breath,” Jon points out, as half the porch clears out.

“That was a little weird.” So much for her being the one to convince Jon that this was a good idea in spite of her brother.

“It’ll be okay,” he says with a pat to her leg that she feels like a shock in more sensitive places.

“He’s my brother.”

“Trust me,” he says, and she wants to, she almost does, looking into his grey eyes in all their dilated sincerity.

She always thought Jon was too serious. There are worse things to be.

Asha and the rest of them clamber over the rail and head down towards the beach. They’re alone, when his other hand slips just under the hem of her sweatshirt. She bites her lip at the inflating balloon feeling in her chest, as his thumb rubs over the skin above the waistband of her cutoffs.

“Hey,” he says, and she repeats it back just as quietly.

She wants to be the girl who just starts making out with the hot guy on the porch, but she’s not. Or she hasn’t ever been, and when Jon touches his forehead to hers, she knows with the racing of her heart that she won’t be tonight either. She needs to say at least one thing, so there’s no misunderstanding. She doesn’t want to come off badly, as bad as Harry.

“I broke up with Harry. I’m guessing you know that.”

“Yeah.” His fingers go taut on her thigh. “Yeah, I heard. You okay?”

Robb didn’t know about Harry and that girl—they’re on the same team but not really friends—so Jon probably didn’t know he was cheating either. If she launches into the whole sordid tale, he’ll probably sit and listen, but that’s not how she wants to spend tonight.

She nods, nose just brushing his. “I’m fine. I’m done with him.”

“I’m really fucking glad.”

Her answering smile is just blooming, when he presses his mouth to hers. He doesn’t have to say anything with how he kisses her. Happiness, affection, something raw and gentle all at once is pressed into each touch of his lips to hers. Yes, she’s been missing something and it was this.

She flattens her hand against his chest and scrunches his shirt in her fingers. His hand, warm and sure against her side, slides up as he gives her one soft kiss after another. Soft enough that she slips her hand into his hair to urge him closer to sate the feeling that’s coiling in her chest.

The ends of his hair, where it curls, are damp. That’s why he smells like clean guy—detergent and soap and deodorant. It’s a good smell. She breathes through her nose and her heart does something funny that makes her feel like she’s falling, as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Harder, deeper. Finally.

His tongue against hers drags a warmth from her that leaves her feeling limp and strung tight all at once. Their kisses taste like beer; she wonders what he’d taste like, kissing down his chest, lower, and the insistent press of his mouth is the only thing that muffles the noise she makes low in her throat. Desperation drives the rub of her legs together. He doubles it, moving his hand along her thigh until his hand fits to her body.

She gasps his name against his mouth, looking for some answer, some relief for her jumping nerves. Or just more of everything. His arm tightens against her back, and she’s arching into him, clinging, in a suddenly dizzy world.

A shrill wolf whistle cuts through her fuzzy headed arousal like a hot knife through butter. She pulls back, blinking in confusion. She wouldn’t even know where the sound came from, except he’s glaring at something beyond her shoulder, towards the beach. They’ve got an audience, she realizes, and her first instinct is to tuck her face into his neck.

He huffs, disturbing the fine hairs at her hairline. “I’m going to kill her.”

Just like that, his breath against her skin makes her restless again. If he kissed her there by her ear, she’d forget the spectacle they’ve created and indulge in a fresh one.

“Kill who?” she asks, though there’s only one possible answer.

“Asha. She thinks she’s fucking funny.”

She takes a deep breath, thankful for the cool air that crawls along her heated flesh. If she focuses on the chill, maybe she can regain some control. It’d probably be a good idea. If a bunch of drunks pile back in the house to cheerfully report what they’ve seen, her plans are going to be shot to hell.

He reaches up to stroke her hair, letting her sweatshirt fall back in place. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’m okay.” She traces the edge of his crew neck, where the skin is perfectly smooth. “I know she’s your friend, but she did say some really weird stuff to me about you.”

“Oh, Christ. I can only imagine.”

“Honestly, I don’t think so,” she says, disentangling herself to stand. She looks down at him in the warm porch light, as some misunderstanding causes his face to go protectively blank just as she holds out her hand to him. “But you should like get her a Starbucks gift card or something.”

Part 3

#jon x sansa #jonsa #got fic #fanfic #beach week

133 notes · View notes

1358456 · 5 years

Text

Review Response, June 9-15, 2019

Once again, I wasn’t at home yesterday so this got delayed, and once again that 1 day delay doesn’t change anything whatsoever.

... And whatever the hell happened to the horizontal line breaks?! Now I’m just manually making those lines with - like a sucker...

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Destiny #006

1) Oh shit I finished the chapter so quickly it felt like it only lasted a couple minutes (though I know it’s a lot longer, I just got too eager). In any case, I was super excited to see White in this chap! I can’t wait to have her and Black interact, I absolutely love the way you write them (just like with Ruby and Sapphire kek). Speaking of Ruby and Sapphire: the jealousy from Sapphire’s side was on point! And I cannot wait for Sapphire’s reaction to Ruby’s answer. Btw nice sort of cliff hanger on that one. And tbh I have no idea what Ruby would say. I feel like he might say no because of Sapphire and the whole mega stone or keystone thing whatchamacallit, but again I’m not sure. Also, no? Blue answer your calls from Red? He’s worrying about you, love. All you need to do is answer and boom! On your way to happiness! Well. Sort of. I guess. Baby steps. But anyways, Dia’s (and Pearl’s no kidding) was adorable. And it made my little shipper heart happy, so kudos to you for that. And also I think it was great how you wrote Platinum as still polite yet attached; regal even when literally lying unconscious a couple minutes prior. It was so like her, and it still amazes me how on point you write these characters. Though admittedly Blue is not how she is in the manga (but that’s sort of the whole point, so like that’s what’s ideal). And so although you stay true to their personalities, it’s also great that you kept in mind how things would affect certain people and changes they way they behave in accordance to that. So kudos to you for that too. Also, definitely NOT going to be happy meeting Peter again in this story. I know it’s going to happen, but I can only hope that the guy spying on Blue (whom I assume is Peter) will not do anything to her, and if so isn’t revealed as Peter. Simply because I just don’t want to put up with his douchebaggery. Oof my reviews are long, but I get so caught up in it that I can’t help myself. Thank you again.

I do like writing with Black and White. But unfortunately, they are just 2 of MANY Dex Holders, so they won’t be getting as much focus as you’d like, especially since they’re particularly high on my Preference List. Damn. That said, when there’s one, there’s always the other with these two. Inseparable!

Indeed. All Blue has to do is answer Red’s call and everything becomes just fine. Another parallel to Legacy, if you will. In Destiny, Blue ignored the calls out of her fears and thus sh*t happens. In Legacy, Blue answered the call, and thus she was able to attain true happiness! But Destiny is the “mid-point” between SA and Legacy. The “mid-point” of the pairing shift. Blue’s progression towards Red has to be a gradual one.

Oh, Platinum. She must always retain her elegance, even if she had just gotten absolutely stomped a minute prior. That’s what makes her... her, you know?

Blue’s character traits of melancholy and depression (when alone) is mostly canon, but her steps towards rampancy is a... personality extrapolation given the canon. If she was to be pushed a certain way, how would she react? That kind of thing.

I’m loving your long reviews! But I do notice that it’s been a month since you started Destiny, and this is chapter 6. Out of 43. ... Hmm...

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Wings #001

1) Hello, hello! Right from the start, this story was surprising to see since I remembered that you said that you didn't like these sorts of high school AU things. I've only seen bits and pieces of this story being mentioned, but I didn't expect this sort of thing! The start was amusing; I found it funny how Y was paying attention to the way she looked, but by the end, I understand y now, and I feel sorry for the poor chap that ruined her reputation already.

Hey, you started on Wings! Yay!

Yep, I absolutely detest high school AU stories. But only because they’re all mostly the same thematically. Wings aims to avoid every single one of those common themes.

1) Self insert: I am not putting in “myself” with a disguise of the main character in a high school AU to “relive” high school but with my desired outcomes. No. Y in Wings is nothing like me. In fact, I’m basing Y’s aggression based on a web comic series I’ve seen years ago. And my high school “outcomes” were mostly identical to my desires anyways, so... meh.

2) Unpopular girl main character: My understanding of the main characters in “those high school AUs” is that the girls are always like timid and unpopular and gets bullied by the “pretty and popular” mean girls until the main character eventually triumphs once the “popular guy” falls in love and... blech. ... What do you think will happen in Wings if the “pretty and popular” mean girls were to bully Y? Yeah. Wings is nothing like those types of stories.

3) Romance: Y doesn’t give a f*ck about love in Wings. Some “cute popular” boy makes a move on her, she gives him the finger and then walks away. The end.

4) “(Name) is a normal girl attending high school and-”: ... Y is not normal. Yes, she wants a normal high school life, but literally right off the bat, I smashed that wish because Wings cannot be remotely similar to any of “those high school AUs”.

And on and on.

I’m glad you thought it was amusing! Wings is intended to be purely for fun. Especially later on as more shenanigans happens.

... But I’m curious that you’re leaving a GUEST review, instead of the signed one, currently with the ID of... er... ... keyboard mashing. Hmm...

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Wings #002

1) It's nice to see the Kalos group coming together! I still haven't finished reading the XY arc of the manga, but it's nice to see Y and Shauna's interactions. I like how you gave a brief insight to Shauna's life in her middle school years; getting bullied sucks, and it must have been hard for her if she prefers to be friends with someone who is viewed negatively and lowers her own reputation down, rather than increasing the chances of getting bullied again. Maybe I'm just overthinking this, but it's still nice! And for X...dang, I feel sorry for him...salt and pepper in his eyes and mouth? That was extreme. Overall, a pretty great chapter! It was amusing from the way X and Shauna unintentionally contributed to lowering Y's reputation in her classroom, and to watch Y beat up intimidating students was funny to imagine.

Yep. Y and Shauna will be one of those “BFFs”, but... not really like those. I have to retain Shauna’s canon personality, which is a bit... sarcastic? So she’ll have a more “cool” friendship with Y instead of those “omg hug” types or whatever. F*ck those.

Hmm... Shauna having a bad middle school experience is not really intentional, but it does make sense, if you think about it like that. But it could also be that Shauna just finds hanging out with Y to be amusing.

X getting salt and pepper poured into his face is LOOSELY based on what I went through in high school, where some prick randomly poured a packet’s worth of salt on my head (getting all that damn salt out of my hair took absolutely forever), and so I took revenge by emptying at least 30 packets of salt and pepper into a sheet of paper and then pouring all that into his hair the next day. So... poor me, poor that kid, and poor X. Hehe.

Oh, there will be more instances of Shauna inadvertently worsening Y’s reputation, with real and fake stories. But Y won’t really mind since it’ll already be too late. There’s no turning back with her reputation now.

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Wings #003

1) Like a bolt from the blue, it's time for a (ratherlatethanintended) review! I really missed the way you write and how you describe everything in detail. Really helps me visualize everything! I know that's the point of writing, but your writing style is effective since I tend to zone out whenever I read something too long. Plus, the way you have each chapter structured keeps things interesting. My interest in piqued with each passing chapter! I'm thoroughly enjoying this story so far.

Okay onto the chapter itself! I like how Grace is supportive of Y's choices even when her daughter's being really violent in school, though perhaps it's because Grace was a delinquent herself when she was younger? Maybe?

And the way X behaves and reacts whenever Y is around is both amusing and sad. Very traumatic for him I'm sure. I do hope that his and Y's relationship as friends improve as chapters go by.

Faitsu and Crystal finally appears so I'm happy about that! I hope more familiar faces appear soon! Speaking of which, I felt like the teacher at the end of chapter 1 could turn out to be someone we know, but I don't know if that's just me. (It's not at all possible due to your preferences, but I keep thinking it's Green, even though he's in the void of nonexistence.)

Getting decked in the face by a soccer ball...hah. What a way to meet your future teammate! ...assuming she ends up joining the soccer club that is.

Overall, a great chapter! I like how lively everyone is, even the nameless students!

Ehehe... thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying this deviation of a story of mine. After all, I’d never make another high school AU, ever, and this is the only one, so... it’s quite the deviant.

My thoughts on Grace is that she’s kind of a cool mother. ... Though I think that’s more... er... non XY arc. Hmm... Well, like mother like daughter... right?? Hehehe...

Oh, X and Y will be GOOD friends as time passes! Can’t have Y stressing out the poor boy, now can I? He will certainly prove to be a good supportive friend, though... not physically supporting (later on).

Faitsu and Crystal (and Black, technically) have appeared! More and more familiar faces will appear and be mentioned as time passes, of course. In fact, most everyone will be in Wings. Red, Blue, Gold, Crystal, Diamond, Pearl, Platinum, Black, White, Faitsu, X, Y, Sun, and Moon! ... Even Sword and Shield, if Wings lasts long enough. ... So... no, Green is not in Wings, since he has been banished into the void for eternity.

Yep. Decked in the face. And bloodshed. Real hard to get by ONE day without bloodshed, eh? Hehehe.

I look forward to seeing your review for the 4th chapter!

#qna

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vanaera · 6 years

Text

Translucent Fireworks

Synopsis | Jungkook yearns for a New Year to come after the warmth he sought in Busan turned lukewarm. Sparks start to alight when spring comes and a girl with a coloring book and weird laundry schedule stepped in his laundromat.

Genre | Fluff, Drama, Slight Angst

Wordcount | 23k+

A/N | Surprise, surprise! @cinserity, you thought me taking up your freaking laundry!au is a joke? AHAHAHHA No. Sorry this is not a crack fic. I prefer to stay in my drama/angst expertise. Enjoy reading!

“Comfort settles on what is familiar; familiarity is made by routines and traditions. As much as anyone would like to have their days vary from each other, a constant is needed to hold one’s life in place.”

These were Jeon Jungkook’s mother’s constant reminders to him whenever he would like to do something stupid in his high school days just to make life “exciting.” In the thawing winter of the last week of February Jungkook reminds himself of this when he fumbles for his keys, his eyes in a never ending fight against the sleep hanging on his eyelids.

His movements are slow as he crouches down, a gloved hand inserts the key to the padlock, twists it, and then he places the key and padlock in the pocket of his green bomber jacket. He grasps the metal gate of the store front before he pushes it up, higher and higher until the gate is no longer obstructing the face of his laundromat.

He steps away to look at his laundromat’s signboard: “Jeon’s Laundromat” printed in the usual blue and green color scheme with a simple washing machine cartoon art that was a trend in the 1970s and still a trend in the 2000s for the vintage look. It’s simple and basic, a perfect match for a simple laundry business in the simple Myeongjang-dong, Dongnae District of Busan. The white paint has faded and grayed with age but the shop still resonates the same warm and homey aura back when he used to play toy cars inside as he keeps his grandmother company. Jungkook tries to curve his lips to form a smile on his tired face. He wishes the same warmth could soothe his exhaustion.

“Wow, you opened early. It’s like five thirty in the morning.”

Jungkook turns to see his high school friend, then-partner in crime, now a florist with his own flower shop across his laundromat giving him a cheeky smile. “Shut up, Jimin,” a hoarse chuckle resonates from his throat as Jungkook leans on the wall of his shop and decides he needs a distraction. He tries to appreciate the ridiculous color combination of his friend’s orange parka, green sweatpants, and a Mickey Mouse beanie sitting atop a taupe brown mop of hair. “You look ridiculous,” Jungkook snickers.

“Hey, excuse my outfit,” Jimin chortles as he looks down at his pink-socked feet in his slippers, stifling a guffaw. “I ran out of food, so I rushed out, just put on anything on my sleepwear to look decent.”

“You look anything but decent.”

“Oh shut up! I’m gonna be in my usual glory when I open my shop later,” Jimin’s eyes crinkles. “I’ll be as beautiful as my flowers later, just you see,” he says as he steps away waving at Jungkook to bid him goodbye and a “See you later, coconut head.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Jungkook waves as he enters his shop, flipping the “Sorry We’re Closed” sign to “Come In, We’re Open!” He stays by the glass door to look at the morning dew of early morning under the mellow yellow patch of the skyline about to overwhelm the parting navy colors of night. Jungkook could make out the pots of white carnations behind the doors of Jimin’s pastel blue flower shop. His eyes then travel to the apartment unit above the flower shop to watch Mrs. Taehee Jung gather the dried clothes she hung up the night before. Old Sangmin’s bakery is still thriving on the far right and Jungkook remembers his elementary days when his mother used to buy him muffins on the way home from school. He makes a note to buy some toasts later to munch on. Home-based convenience stores are opening one by one, and he could already see someone mopping the floors of the red-bricked establishment of Kim’s Italian Restaurant on his far left. His view is disrupted when Mr. Changmin Song, a resident below his apartment unit, waves at him as he walked on the street. Jungkook is compelled by moral norms to return the wave with a smile. Oh and there’s Mrs. Eunhui Lee, a patron of the laundromat, biking past him and Jungkook waves again.

His mornings are always filled with warmth, a stark difference to his life five years ago in the concrete jungle of black and white buildings. He doesn’t miss the pressure of schedules that drove people here and there, the constant feeling of glass screens pressed against stressed flesh while shouting some things that are needed to be done – a life where everyone needs to go somewhere and do something in such a never-ending hurry. Jungkook’s glad he traded a life where people are controlled by time and cold apathy for a life of laidback days, serene nights, and warm sympathy of people. However, he’s been used to the warm life here for too many years that sometimes Jungkook thinks the warmth of being home had already turned lukewarm with unwanted consistency. His laidback days dragged too long, the silence of his serene nights started to deafen him. He feels he missed something – something he skipped over and never bothered to check when he packed his belongings and set his eyes for the rural world. He feels so unsatisfied when he already thinks he’s content with his life.

The sight of the increasing people on the street signals Jungkook it’s time to focus on his own shop now so he rips his stare away from the door and lets it graze the interior of the laundromat. Fifteen cheap but functional silver and white washing machines lined against the cerulean blue walls, the center being occupied by two long wooden benches placed against each other for the customers to sit on. A vending machine and change machine are placed against his right where a corner of the walls leads to a comfort room. A desk to his left serves as his station where he can keep an eye on his shop. Still the same old Jeon’s Laundromat his grandparents started in the 1970s.

“Another day, here we go again,” he sighs, walking towards the washing machines to start another business day.

Nothing much happens in his day for him to describe in detail. He eats three regular meals, sometimes in solitude, sometimes in the company of his florist friend. He sits in his station with people he was all-too familiar now coming in and out. At times, he stands up to walk around the shop and see if he could be of any help for his customers. Sometimes he engages in conversations with the older ladies who were friends with his late mother or father just to know about their day even though he knows he’ll get the same response: “Just okay, there’s nothing much I do in my days anyway”, “My son is still irresponsible”, “Hey, you know you can come over and have dinner with us someday.” His lassitude in the morning was sustained in the evening, and by the time he hits the covers of his bed, another day has slipped through his flimsy fingers.

The days that followed were also like this. He opens the laundromat around five thirty to eight from Monday to Sunday. He collects the coins and cleans the shop before he closes around nine to ten. He would refill the vending machine and change machine every Tuesday and Thursday. On Friday nights, he does accounting works that keeps his business alive. At the end of the week, the cycle will repeat. He wakes up tired and he sleeps the exhaustion away only to wake up again to find that getting up from the bed is always going to be the challenge of the century. He’s always greeted by faces he have seen since he was three and sometimes he thinks he’s a sick bastard for wishing for them to not show up in his day when all they meant was good company. He lives a comfortable life with the same routine, same activities, same setting, and same faces and he can’t deny he is uncomfortable with this. He thinks his days are too identical, only differentiated by the numbers of the months, days, and years. A never-ending cycle only bordered by the thin lines of time, dictating the consciousness of man of what is yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

In his defense, Jungkook knows he tried. He tried to start and end his day a little early or a little late. He also tried playing with the days of the week like how he decided two weeks ago to have Mondays as his day offs. He didn’t realize he grew accustomed to the seven-days-a-week work in the constricting gray walls of Seoul that he unconsciously brought this work attitude in his hometown. He also tried to engage in new activities his younger self have been dying to do years ago. He tried so many ways, more than he can count with his hands, just to make his day a little bit different from the others, even just a flicker of variety in his uneventful life. He’s desperate, he knows, because no matter how many times he tried, they always end up in the same conclusion – it’s pointless.

It’s hopeless. It’s not like his job requires activities that could make his day eventful. It’s not like something will happen if he woke up a little earlier or slept a little later. It’s not like he still enjoyed the activities his younger self liked to indulge. These thoughts boggled his mind throughout Mondays, only making him weary in his own day off so yesterday he decided he doesn’t need day offs and just open the laundromat everyday. He knows he always needed a distraction and his business could be enough as one. “Maybe I’m being too ungrateful,” he thinks. He has a job that could support his lifestyle; he has a home he can come back to – an apartment unit which stood through time since he was an infant who grew to dream of the city and then came home last year to detach himself from the nightmares of the urban life. It makes him nauseous sometimes when he admits he indeed has a life others would dream of. However the comfort of one’s life doesn’t ensure the comfort of one’s physical and mental well-being. He’s always troubled with this feeling of being so dissatisfied for no reason. This emptiness metastasizing in his chest fills up the hollows of his lungs. They block the valleys of his throat, drowning him with the ripples of nothingness. It disables him in some days with such unreasonable lethargy to get up and live another day. He never expected this void could swallow him whole. Many times he decided to just give up, it won’t go away no matter what he does. All adults feel like this anyway. It’s only normal.

But when he lay on his bed, his eyes mapping the lines made by the cracked paint on his ceiling does he remember why he shouldn’t stop trying.

This venom of dissatisfaction – it deemed him incapable to be himself when he lived in the gray city years ago. It haunted him on day’s end driving him sometimes to be so drunk of dread and regrets. That’s why a winter a year ago, he decided it’s time to come home. He’ll fix himself.

He can’t give up now that he’s so near to getting rid of this.

“Here’s your change Mrs. Song,” Jungkook stands by the door as he hands the silver coins to the woman in her late fifties. Mrs. Eunji Song, a friend of his mother and their past neighbour years ago, still has the same curly brown hair and fascination for pink clothes

“Ah, thanks Jungkook,” the lady smiles and gets her change before latching her hand on the door, getting ready to make her way home now. “By the way, do come to our house any day to have some dinner. You know you’re always welcome in our home,” the lady smiles again making Jungkook give her his own smile. She has always been so accommodating to their family even back then when he used to tease and make her daughter cry for fun. He wishes he could feel thankful for the offer like his younger self would be; not this disgusting guilt pressured by instilled culture.

“Will do, Mrs. Song. Have a safe trip home,” He bids her goodbye as he opens the door for her. He gives her one last smile to compensate for the bitterness of his thoughts before she rounds up the corner of Sangmin’s bakery.

Jungkook goes back to his station as he lets his vision linger on the other customers of his shop. He could see Mrs. Jinhee Park, a friend of Mrs. Lee, gathering her dried clothes. Mrs. Eunhui Lee, a mother of two and his apartment neighbor, feeds the coins to the coin slot of the washer before she presses a button to start her laundry. He could make out the familiar back of Park Jihyun, Jimin’s younger brother, sitting on the bench reading some manga he remembered Jimin raving about a week ago. It is three thirty in the afternoon and he’s expecting more familiar faces to turn up when the six o’clock mark comes for people who preferred to do their laundry at night.

Jungkook knows everyone just as how every resident in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone. After all it’s a small town. Newly moved residents in their area were welcomed warmly in the neighborhood with some rice cakes, and then they are introduced to everyone around the town. The tradition is preserved through the years as well as each family’s background, making it easy for everyone to pick apart every event in one’s life like a dissected frog experiment. Labels are permanently marked and gossips spread like wildfire. Jungkook knows Mrs. Song came from a poor family but founded a business which earned her family enough wealth to last their next generation. Mrs. Park’s husband died early and then she married her neighbor who was her first love during her youthful days. Eunhui had her first son at the age of sixteen with a jerk who left her. After two years she had her happy married life with her bestfriend.

Jungkook is pretty sure everyone knows his mother died when he was in college because of tuberculosis and that his father just died a year ago which was actually the reason why he went back to his hometown with his older brother. It was only him who stayed and preferred to run the family business. Unlike him, Junghyun loved the city and has a nice position as a supervisor in a company.

A peaceful and secure life is what Jungkook have always wanted. He doesn’t have dreams as ambitious as his brother’s nor does he feel unsatisfied with the laundromat business. As he looks around the establishment founded by his grandparents, Jungkook is thankful they, along with his parents, provided him a secure future. The prosperity of the business hasn’t changed nor the patrons of Jeon’s Laundromat even after his parents died. It has always been the same; everything hasn’t changed one bit. Neither do I, Jungkook thinks. Comfort is felt on what is familiar but sometimes he wishes it was the other way around – familiarity to be felt on what is comfortable. He always felt too comfortable with his life now that he feels unfamiliar with himself.

His mother had always reminded him that constants are needed to make life solid enough to be manageable, tangible, and most importantly, liveable. Jungkook thinks he already has too many constants in his life that his world seemed to stop moving and no matter what he did he’s still stuck in the same position. A stagnant echo in the gray static of a television left behind by the transmission signals.

Jungkook returns to work when Jihyun came to his station to say goodbye with a message from his brother that his attendance is very much wanted by the florist later at nine o’clock in Uncle Bob’s Bar. Jungkook sends him off with a message for Jimin to stop being so demanding like a clingy girlfriend.

The afternoon hours blend into the evening, and just like he expected, more customers went to the shop to do their laundry at six ‘o clock. At eight forty-five, Jungkook is pulling the metal gate downward, locking it with the huge brass padlock, and tucking the key in his pocket as he steps away to end another day of business.

“You’re only closing now?” An all-too-familiar voice he sometimes finds irksome drives Jungkook to give Jimin a once-over.

“Wow, you sound like my wife,” Jungkook walks towards his friend, who self-proclaims “beautiful as his flowers”, sporting a sky blue and white striped button down and navy jeans.

“Eww, you shouldn’t dream to have me as one when I’m already taken. Dude, I already have Minyoung!” Jimin cackles, starting to make a sprint as Jungkook charges after him to knock off the stupid grin from his face. It was ages ago when Jungkook ran like this; he really needed one that night to take his mind off of these stupid thoughts.

Uncle Bob’s Bar is actually owned by Kim Sangjin, Old Sangmin’s younger brother, and is located a few blocks away from the bakery. The two take their usual seat at the far right corner of the bar. Jimin raises two fingers to Mrs. Kim who has already memorized the friends’ orders that hasn’t changed since their college days.

Jungkook lets his eyes travel around the rustic mahogany interior of the bar complimented by the orange glow of candles placed in lamps overhead that attempted to mimic some form of chandelier. The chestnut cabinet holding liquors older than him was nested near the wooden staircase leading to the second floor where college students seems to be having some game of beer pong which reminded him of his own reckless days, back when life rolled on and on before it advanced too fast when he packed his things for the modern streets of the city. Now here he is, back where he started, hoping his untuned life will be fixed by his stay in his hometown.

“We used to do that back then,” Jungkook’s attention turns to Jimin, realizing he’s staring too long. He’s zoning out more frequently as the days pass by.

“Ah, yeah, then we’ll have bets with Taehyung and Hoseok who can take more shots then end up losing count because we always end up wasted. Can’t believe they’ll only come visit us just to drink here.”

“Seokjin called earlier,” Jimin starts, “said he and the guys gonna prepare some get together in Seoul. Last boyhood days, I say. He’s serious with Hana ever since college and he’s preparing to put a ring on it in July.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen with the news. He thinks it is risky prolonging romances with an indefinite ending that’s why he’s glad Seokjin and Hana were able to see a wedded life together as their future. “Really? Wow, I’m glad for them. It’s been like six years and they managed to keep the romance alive.”

“’Cause Seokjin looks damn good. Same reason why Minyoung will never get tired seeing this handsome face every day.”

“I will punch you for real this time.”

Jimin laughs as he leans on his chair, making himself at home. Well this bar was like their home but that was years ago. “Anyway, Seokjin and his happily ever after is not the reason why I wanted for us to have a drink here. It’s about you.”

“What about me?” Jungkook gives him a pointed look.

“It’s just that,” Jimin runs his hand through the strands of his hair as he finds the right words to say. “You just sound so…listless? Like you’re tired everyday for no reason.”

“I…-“ Jungkook stops, the aggressive “I’m not” he wanted to say dying in the confines of his throat.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” Jimin leans forward, his hands almost reaching out for him. “What’s wrong? Is it because of your life here? I told you you don’t have to force yourself to continue the business if you really felt that inferior to your brother-“

“No. It’s not about him,” Jungkook cuts him off with unnecessary hostility. Sure, sometimes he felt inferior to Junghyun because his position is something to be envious of compared to his laundromat business. Jungkook always felt the need to tell himself every now and then that the city is for Junghyun and this province is for him. Being jealous of something he would never enjoy in the first place is pointless.

Jungkook thinks his friend would not be able to fathom the complexity of his dilemma so he comes up with something he could reach. Jimin’s concern makes him feel sorry for his recalcitrance.

“What’s your favorite holiday, hyung?”

If Jimin was taken aback with the sudden diversion of subject, he did a good job masking it with a smile. “Thanksgiving.”

“Why?”

“Family gets together then we play games and eat lots of food. It has always been my favorite holiday ever since I was a kid.” Jimin‘s smile grows into a grin that makes Jungkook decide to lull himself in this subject longer. “God, this is a cheesy question from slambooks but since you brought it up, what’s yours?”

“New Year,” Jungkook replies instantly. “I like the adrenaline rushing through me whenever I count down the minutes separating two years. I like seeing the sparks of fireworks and the fact that this is the only day it is legal for you to cause some ruckus and make loud noises. It always promises a new start, a change in your life.”

Jungkook remembers his college days when they’ll sit on Seokjin’s car and drive around town blaring rap music beyond reasonable levels of volume, his mom’s eyes crinkling as she greets him “happy new year” with his dad, he and Junghyun buying those sticks that sparkle and cackle like small fireworks when you set them alight. The feeling of exhilaration, the tingles on his spine, the feeling of setting your eyes on only one end – Jungkook misses that. A new start, a change in my life, Jungkook always knew this is what he needed. He’s been too comfortable, too familiar with everyone that he felt foreign to the thought of making life exciting. What he feared most has already happened - Life has gotten boring. It numbed him of his will to live like he wanted to and made his days and nights dreary and aimless. It’s sad when every time he thinks of this he could picture the college student version of him years ago who declared he’ll never be like the adults who stopped living for the sake of existing.

Jimin must have realized what he meant with his reply and so as their drinks arrived, his friend’s words stuck to his mind until midnight as he slumped down on his bed, imagining the worn off lines of his ceilings to be constellations that disappeared after he graduated.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your New Year soon. I know you can.”

Winter finally melted away when March came, only leaving the cold breeze and chilly dewy mornings for spring as remnants of its wake. Jungkook was never one to give sentimental meanings to seasons unlike his sappy florist friend. Jimin always told him spring is the first season – it’s a perfect time to start anew especially after winter wiped the life away of the usual plants that grew in his shop. He remembers Jimin telling him one afternoon, “The cold has ended and the time to plant new flowers has come. It wasn’t used as a personification for hope for nothing, you know.”

It was only now he thought that Jimin’s metaphors about spring must be true.

It was nine in the morning of a usual Monday when spring entered his shop with a swift swing of the door and a blur of pink sweater and jet black hair

Jungkook knows everyone just as how every resident in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone – except this girl. His eyes follow her as she stops at the sixth washer, dumps her laundry, presses some buttons, inserts some coins, closes the cover, presses start, and finally sits on the bench. It was only then he noticed she carried some sort of paperback with lots of black and white pages – too big for a pocket book, its cover too minimalistic in design to be a magazine.

After living in the town for so many years, he thinks maybe he adapted the prying attentiveness of old country people. It makes him feel better thinking this could be the reason why he suddenly want to decipher the paperback in the girl’s hand, not because he’s too attached to the sentiment of having some kind of change that could alter the repeated cycle of his life. Minutes are not enough for him to recognize the material when he realizes the paperback was no more in view and he’s now staring at her eyes. Jungkook immediately tears his gaze away before he could print the crease of her eyelids or the color of her irises in his memory. He chides himself for being too curious even though he knows no matter what he tries to convince himself with, this inquisitiveness will only creep behind his back and implant itself in his mind.

Most of his customers are patrons, people he have known for so many years as their predecessors have also been patrons since his grandparents started this business. He couldn’t recall anyone’s relative who has a short stature and shoulder-length hair that matches this girl. He also hasn’t heard of any newly moved residents or any tourists traveling around their area. It’s impossible for her to live in a neighboring town and just come to Myeongjang-dong just for the sake of her laundry. He thinks it’s only fair for him to question her origin and motive.

He lets his eyes wander again to the girl’s way, noticing now that Minhee Jung, the photographer down the block, is also staring at the new girl. Mrs. Lee is also here, sitting on the other side of the bench looking agog to know her identity. He wasn’t the only one curious of her then.

Minutes passed with his eyes running through the pages of the 4th volume of Naruto he borrowed from Jimin with the mechanical whirring of the machines that turned to be melodic in time. His reading was interrupted with him bidding Minhee goodbye and helping Mrs. Lee with her laundry, including occasional gazes on the girl who kept flipping through the paperback he was still trying to figure out. The air in the laundromat wasn’t so still like yesterday. Jungkook felt strange when relief engulfed him with the steady hymn of pages turning.

By ten’ o clock, the girl finished her laundry and left with a soft “goodbye” Jungkook almost fails to hear. The minute she steps outside, the man shoots up from his seat and strides to the glass door in big steps to watch her disappearing figure make a turn on the corner of Kim’s Italian Restaurant. It dawns on him it’s also the same route he takes on his way home but he thinks he’s being paranoid. He couldn’t give a substantial answer why his attention was so hooked to the girl and her paperback so he didn’t bother to confuse himself further than he already is. Jungkook just blames it on the unusual black and white paperback so he can sleep that night.

It wasn’t until Wednesday when Jungkook’s interest was piqued again. The girl entered his shop at nine ’o clock, used the same washer, sat on the same spot of the bench and pulled out that damn paperback. Just like what he did on Monday, he read the same manga, though now he was on the 12th volume because he’s determined to finish Naruto to prove Jimin he can catch up to this story about ninjas. However, his usual reading pace is slowed down just so he can look at the girl in patterned successions; his eyes drift to her way when he lands at pages whose numbers are divisible by four. After three, four glances, he thinks she looks attractive in her blue pullover and gray jeans as her attention is captured by the paperback which is driving him mad.

Jungkook prides himself for his rationality. Even in his group of friends, his common sense and wit is regarded functional whenever they end up in sticky situations brought by his group’s occasional sprouts of foolishness. However today, Jungkook can’t really keep up this pride as said rationality is thrown somewhere when he decided to stand up and walk around the shop to finally discern just what this infuriating paperback is.

The pace of his walk is sluggish, almost similar to a fugitive’s gait as he pretends to inspect the washers on the opposite side of the one she’s using. He knows he doesn’t look suspicious as his customers know he does walk around the shop to assist them, “except today,” Jungkook thinks. His walk gradually slows to a stop when he neared the spot behind her, her back coming into full view as now he can finally look at the page. It’s black and white. Black ink swirled around and met other lines to form a mandela, “a flower,” Jungkook prefers. Patterns circled around with detailed geometric shapes and curvy triangular projections that made petals look so abstract than it should be. The other page is also the same – a black and white mandela he is sure would look better with some actual colors than the present monochrome scheme. “It’s a coloring book,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, comprehension now settling as to why this material is an outsider in his shop. He’s used to seeing his customers flipping through printed materials filled with pages to pass the time – mostly books and magazines. It isn’t everyday one would see someone bring a coloring book with them to a laundromat and just stare at it for a whole hour.

The girl picked up on Jungkook’s uncalled prolonged inactivity as she suddenly turned to her back, her eyes catching his guilty stance of peering, of “being prying,” Jungkook thinks. He immediately composes himself, his mouth preparing a buyable excuse his mind has concocted. “Ah- I’m sorry if I bothered you. I was just checking the washers.”

The girl only gives him a tight smile and a polite nod before she quickly returns her attention to her coloring book.

Jungkook reminds himself not to act like a weirdo anymore to save himself from nerve-wracking explanations for his questionable actions he himself is finding hard to understand. He leaves her spot, walks around the washers, never going to her side to avoid another wave of awkwardness. He whips out his manga the second he returned to his station and convinces himself to just stick to reading because he needs to finish this volume by tomorrow. He thinks he’s effort is impressive for trying hard to anchor his attention back to the comic book though he couldn’t proudly say he did enough to avoid the girl’s direction for just thirty minutes. He guiltily admits he can’t keep himself from sneaking a few glances in between reading. He thinks his reason to do so could justify the act this time. It’s just too weird, he thinks. Why buy a coloring book if you’re not going to color it anyway? Why stare at it for an hour? What’s so interesting with a black and white drawing anyway?

The girl bids him goodbye by the same ten o’clock mark and Jungkook finds himself rooted again on the glass door as he watches her silhouette blend with the province landscape and remnants of the morning glow of the sun. Today he blames it on the girl’s unusual pastime that bewildered him up to the day of her return.

By Friday, Jungkook’s certain he’s acting like a damn stalker and he doesn’t know how to explain for himself anymore. The girl arrived at the same time, same jeans and sweater – a dandelion yellow now – ensemble, and did the same routine in front of the sixth washer. However, Jungkook could make out she brought something with her along with her coloring book. He raises himself from his seat a little to just peek – and oh it’s a watercolor set, the cheap set he usually sees in the neglected corners of bookstores. He falls back down on his seat when the girl suddenly stood up and walked towards his station. For a moment Jungkook panicked, he sat up so straight he almost knocked off the air of himself as his hands frantically pat his askew shirt, desperately making himself look presentable. “Shit, maybe she figured out I’m being a creep,” he thinks as he counts the seconds she’ll stand in front of him and demand for him to stop acting so suspicious – but that doesn’t happen. He could see her stand clueless by the door, her head snap left then right, probably thinking what to do, before she decides to wind up to the right end of the shop where the comfort room is situated. Jungkook counts up to ten seconds when her figure reappears, her right hand now occupied by a small see through cup filled halfway with water. Jungkook diverts his attention to the fifth page of the 12th volume of Naruto when the girl nears his station before he returns his gaze on her to see her now opening the watercolor set.

Jungkook thinks it’s unusual to be so amused watching a girl color a page using watercolor. He doesn’t know what he finds so relaxing with her peaceful posture - her coloring book laid open on her lap, the watercolor set placed on her left side as her hand gracefully flicks the brush around. He can’t make excuses for himself anymore why he’s itching to know what she’s coloring, what kind of color she is using now, why watercolor and not colored pencils. Some kind of tranquility blankets the interior of his shop as he flips through his manga again, his excitement dying down to an unperturbed state he never felt until recently. The mechanical song of the machines lulled him to delve in the world of ninjas, recurrent glimpses on the girl brings him back to his world in Myeongjang-dong. By eleven o’clock she bids him goodbye and then Jungkook finds himself staying by the glass door again. Jungkook can’t think of anything to blame now as he ponders over her extended stay just to finish her coloring session.

On Sunday, Jungkook finally decided to approach her. She came by nine ’o clock again wearing a lime green sweater and faded jeans bringing the same watercolor set and coloring book. Jungkook saw her making her way to the sixth washer and already expected her to do her laundry routine, sit on the bench, and start coloring. He didn’t expect he will be met by a missed note in his machines’ automatic symphony caused by anxious tapping of fingers against metal and the desperate squeak of the money return button under unforgiving pressure. The girl’s figure was hunched on the floor, her fingers flicking the coin slot and rapping the surface of the washer in interlaced sequence and this time Jungkook knows this is the reason why he should actually go to her and not because of him being nosy as per previous encounters.

“Umm, excuse me, let me help you,” Jungkook gets on his knees beside her, already insulting himself for sounding so dumb.

“My coins got stuck inside – I”

“No it’s alright. It happens sometimes. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook fishes his pen from his pocket, twists its cap to turn on the small handy flashlight he uses to make out the metal works in the dark crevices for him to determine the problem. He tuts his tongue, realizing the coin jam can’t be solved with simple knocking and tapping of the machine.

“What’s the problem?”

“There’s a coin tipped to the side inside. Don’t worry, it’s easy to fix.” He grabs the toolbox placed at the foot of his chair, right where he places his slippers for comfort, and he pulls it up to rest on his desk. He’s glad he decided to keep a toolbox for incidents like this even when Jimin discouraged him why he needed a toolbox since he’s not a washing machine mechanic. He opens the box and gets his utility knife before closing it again.

Jungkook may not know how to fix washing machines in general but he learned how to fix simple problems like this back when he aided his mother ran the shop. He slid the knife in the slot, pushed the tilted coin with it, and twists it a little. When he felt it slide smoothly, he smiles as it starts the tuned music he has been waiting five minutes ago.

“It’s fixed now,” he gets up from his knees and closes the cover before standing up only to meet the girl’s eyes in such close proximity, her breath so close to his chest he could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing up . He’s frozen in his spot and he could only stare at her, her image surely making an impression in his mind. Her small warm brown orbs are adorned by creaseless eyelids. She has small cheekbones and he could see blemishes on her cheeks but her make-up did a good job in hiding them he thought twice if they were really there in the first place. Her face is shaped like a strawberry, her thin lips painted cerise that can rival any shade of red. Before Jungkook could stop himself from staring, the girl stepped away and cleared her throat softly muttering an apology, bringing the man back to his senses.

“Umm, yeah, it’s okay now, just press the start button,” He murmurs then immediately turns away, his eyes set for his station before he was delayed by a soft voice he now has a face he could match with.

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook says without turning back as he sits on his chair, his lips unknowingly curving into a smile.

She leaves by twelve in the afternoon with a goodbye after finishing another page. Jungkook wonders if he’ll have his following weeks filled with her presence like this.

That night he was enveloped in the hospitality of Jimin’s small unit nursing a cold glass of water to amend the sheen of sweat glistening on his neck. His friend’s house is wedged between two other complexes around the street that corners Old Sangmin’s bakery. He felt the need to take the ten minute fast walk right after closing the laundromat just so he can get some answers he is very embarrassed to ask for. After dawdling on the polaroids that hung on his friend’s wall which portrayed Jimin’s family, their group, and his girlfriend, he thinks it’s time to disregard this empty pride and just start speaking.

“Have you heard of any newly-moved residents in town?” He licks his chapped lips before he opts to be clear with his intentions. “A girl around 5’2, long hair, always wears sweaters, jeans, and Converse sneakers?”

The playful glint in Jimin’s eyes did not surface when recognition first kicks in. “Oh her! She’s the new resident in the apartment complex across yours.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?” The gleam in Jimin’s eyes is of pure unbelief. “She just moved in last week. Saw her carrying a luggage on your street last Sunday afternoon when I was doing bouquet deliveries.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?”

“You open your Laundromat at the ass crack of dawn and go straight to bed past ten. Of course you wouldn’t notice. Actually,” Jimin’s eyes sweep over his sofa before bringing it back to his friend, his stance more rigid. “I heard there’s something with her. No one in the area knows anything about her. No one could even say where she has come from.” He leans closer as if someone will hear him, “She seems secretive too. Suspicious, no?

Jungkook snickered, shaking his head. “Are you sure you’re not just relaying gossips you heard from the housewives here?”

“Maybe,” Jimin rests his case as he leans back, dismissing delirious perceptions influenced by old town idle talk. He then startles Jungkook when he decides to turn the subject to him. “Why did you ask?”

Jungkook hoped to evade this question when he made his visit but then he has no choice now as his friend’s teasing smirk signifies he wouldn’t let him drop the subject anytime soon. “Okay fine, I find her weird. She came to the Laundromat on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and this morning at the same time – 9 a.m. And she always bring this coloring book –”

“What the hell.”

“I know, right? It’s weird. She brought this coloring book and stared at it for one hour and then on Friday she decided she wanted to color-“

“No,” Jimin interrupts him, the smirk on his lips erased by the staggered look in his eyes. “What’s really weird is she does laundry four times a week. No person living alone would need to wash their clothes that frequently.”

Jungkook wished that night he didn’t hear Jimin’s remark. He only realized that this girl’s laundry schedule is anomalous enough to disregard her strange affinity with her coloring book. “Four times a week, Jesus Christ,” the man drapes his arm over his eyes but it’s useless when he can see mandelas playing on the cracked lines of his ceiling. His friend’s observation planted itself in his head like lawn weeds. It proliferated in his thoughts and formed a growing sea of green that always taunted him to just dive in. It's annoying; disquietude shouldn't be so charming.

The weight of his thoughts only materialized when the following weeks came. The once plain days of Jeon’s Laundromat is now perplexed by this girl four days in a week – Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. She always comes by at nine ‘o clock in the morning, does her laundry, and stares at her coloring book or colors some pages, “always with watercolor,” Jungkook notes. The sharp swing of the door signals her arrival along with the gust of cool dewy breeze from the outside and after that, Jungkook’s attention is now on her until she leaves. By the second Friday, Jungkook confirms Jimin’s right when he said there’s something with this girl. This woman washes the same clothes she already washed in her previous visit. His eyes became familiar with the sight of the pink and blue striped button down, lavender skirt, and royal blue dress being dumped inside the washing machine. Sometimes it’s the yellow sundress, white pleated skirt, and mint green blouse he thinks she doesn’t wear in the first place. He sees them pristine clean even before she dumps it in and still pristine clean after she washed them. Jungkook doesn't linger on probable reasons behind her activity when he's already drifting in his space, wondering why he’s bothered by the thought of their colors fading anytime soon.

Her presence is tangible in some days and an aftertaste in every night. Jungkook never saw her in the days that were not in the schedule of her laundry nor is he fortunate to have just a glimpse of her room light turned on when he comes home. His ears are already used to the quiet street, soft click of the light switch, and the silent hiss when he draws apart the drapes on his window; the dark rooms across his apartment devoid of any life. The hollowness at nights was filled with dreams of mandelas and watercolors and it is until the day after tomorrow will these dormant curiosity and sense of adventure come full force; a reminder that there is indeed life, just not visible for him at nights.

She’s queer, odd, unfamiliar, and definitely offbeat in the musical of his very ordinary, normal, and uneventful life but her tune is not outlandish to be disturbing. He can’t will himself to admit to Jimin he likes watching her color pages with her cheap watercolor set, wondering to himself how she likes to color, or what her favorite color is because she always come in his shop wearing sweaters in hues that define the vibrant spring. The air around the laundromat is colored with new pigments as the girl brushes around her coloring book while Jungkook reads mangas. The music of the washers accompanies exchanges of shy glances and the timid curve of lips.

This is uncharted area, an unexplored field, and his bare feet is still trying to get used with the rough and itchy weeds but he doesn't deny the buzz in his bloodstream wills him to run across this sea of green and just forget they were in fact parasitic foliage on his lawn. He goes against the cautions of unfamiliarity set on his door since he was a child and decides maybe - just maybe a discrepancy can actually give him comfort.

He starts to anticipate the days of her visit and the undisclosed wishes of her mandelas.

Geometry suddenly became a fascination on Tuesday.

Jungkook postponed business until eight thirty when he realized his refrigerator is practically devoid of anything edible. He used his usual opening time and first two hours in Farmer’s Market and by half past seven he is already waiting by the bus stop, his hands occupied with plastic bags that will satisfy his appetite for the following week.

The road was silent, except for faint chatters of the town people and the brief appearances of trucks and local cars. Farmer’s Market is a subdued repose in weekdays and a loud frenzy in weekends, Jungkook remembers as he sits down on the bench. He settles his purchase by his side, muscles effortlessly releasing the tension he wishes his mind could do a better job at. God, he’s already tired and he hasn’t started work yet.

Rustling of the leaves filled in the noiseless street and the patterned zipping of vehicles cannot make it better, exaggerating the seconds to grow into centuries in his mind. Jungkook knows he needs something to occupy his mind. His eyes look down at his wrist adorned with the watch that was handed down from his father. He always felt comfortable with the warm brown leather straps, still-distinct black of roman numerals arranged on a circular plate of the yellowing white face of the clock. The hands were at seven and nine, two lines connected at the center. And since they look like lines, they also look like they could extend whenever at whatever point - his plane geometry teacher said so. Can it turn into something when the area near seven is connected to one and nine is connected to three? Can expansion of mere periods create a difference from its original form?

Jungkook thinks yes, it can when he recognizes the familiar supplementary lines he used to draw on his notebooks. Extremes can be in unison in the form of acute and obtuse angles. The angles are uneven but they still measure a 180. They can be a clean 90 - 90 but Jungkook prefers them unbalanced because he wanted to feel normalcy in inconsistency. Jungkook then sees the lines on the aged face of his clock transform to lines on the graying white and blue of Jeon's Laundromat. His laundromat their point of intersection with him and the sweater girl as the lines that will coexist in the brief two or three hours if she decides to finish one page. The difference between their angles so noticeable like the drastic split between 120 and 60 because her fleeting hours of stay cannot equal the stagnant years he lived on this establishment. Jungkook thinks his ceiling will now bear the misalignment of these askew lines.

Jungkook detaches himself from his trance when he felt the bench creak. The wooden parallel lines of the bench on his right were unceremoniously interrupted by another person. Blue jeans, cherry red fuzzy sweater, and straight jet black hair makes Jungkook remind himself that emergence of supplementary lines is scheduled on the day after tomorrow, ascertained tomorrow if it’s Sunday or Tuesday like today. Tuesday is not tomorrow. Why is she here? Jungkook sides a glance, ever perplexed with her presence, and he sees her hunched over, hands on knees, puffing out tired breaths, and still unaware of him with plastic bags of the same color as his by her side. With the sunlight gracing her profile, she looks more breath taking than he remembers. He was already taken aback before with her imperfectly beautiful freckles and her thin red lips, but what he never noticed before was the raven black crowning her head, darker than her midnight tresses; an indistinct inconsistency of her natural being.

Appearance of green and blue lines crosses his vision and disrupts his thoughts. The sudden whish of opening doors makes him look down on his watch while standing up to grab his bags. It was only 7:56, such little time never felt so long. As he sets his eyes toward the bus, he now notices the strange sweater girl was no longer by his side and was now struggling on the metal steps of the vehicle.

Should he help her? Helping her won’t make him seem creepy right? Damn it, Jungkook hurries toward her side. He gently taps her shoulder and mutters, “I’ll help you with this.”

She must be quite startled with his sudden interference with her widened eyes and parted lips, but the man can’t seem to be aware of this when he’s mesmerized with her eyes, registering their color is not just brown, it’s hazel. He sure learns more about her this Tuesday which cannot be granted in the confines of his laundromat. He immediately looks down and grabs her plastic bags as the thought of social convention enters his mind which deems it quite inappropriate to stare for too long.

“For one passenger or two?” The rough voice of the driver in his mid forties weirdly sounds outlandish to his ears when he stood up to place his card on the sensor for the vehicle fare.

“Uh…”

“Only one,” the firm tone makes the male whip his head to sweater girl’s way, now nearing him as she got up the steps and flashed her own card before beeping it.

“You don’t have to, I got my own,” she pulls her lips a little into a smile.

Jungkook feels spring coloring his cheeks with embarrassment. This is so uncool. He tears his gaze from her and settles it on the nearest vacant seats behind the elderly woman and a married couple seated in the first two rows. He lets her make her way first before following, his eyes trained on his shoes until he plops himself down on his seat. “Too much for one day, shucks.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Huh?” He looks at her face and sees her expectant expression before realization hits him.” Ah- oh here are your bags,” he gives them to her, disregarding how her fingers felt a little calloused when they overlapped his. This shouldn’t even attract him and yet he finds himself magnetized towards her eyes again.

“Pull yourself together, man!,” He averts his eyes toward the opposite direction, hoping for the ride to end faster ‘cause shit he’s acting like a retard now and he can’t even redeem himself by engaging in small talk-

“You’re Jeon Jungkook, right?”

“Wait- huh?” Jungkook whips his face toward her direction with such alarm in his eyes as if he was caught stealing. He thinks she hid her bewilderment of his suspicious behavior behind curious eyes and a friendly smile.

“Jungkook-sshi right? Owner of Jeon’s Laundromat?”

“Why – ah yes,” Jungkook almost forgot that here in Myeongjang-dong, everyone does know everyone. He opens his mouth to speak but found words dying down his throat. He can’t think of how to continue the conversation when his awkward reply simply ended her attempt of small talk. He observed her eyes glancing his way then back to the window, her fingers twiddling with each other as the quietness settle on both of them.

“Maybe she’s also uncomfortable with such quietness,” Jungkook thinks. Small talk probably eases the pressure from the silence between two strangers who surely have acknowledged each other’s presences before. Since she went beyond her way and started a small talk with him, the man thinks it’s only right that this time, he start one. So when the bus halts on the next stop to let the married couple get down, Jungkook is staring at her way and opens his mouth.

“You do market shopping on Tuesdays too?”

It’s her turn to be startled as she looks his way, her mouth gaping before stretching into a pleasant line. It’s fortunate she smiles a lot; she has a beautiful smile. “Y–yes. It’s less chaotic during weekdays.”

Jungkook felt his own lips tugging into a crescent. He finds courage to talk more and bask longer in her presence. Relief seeping in his bones when he notices the shimmer of curiosity in her hazel orbs. It’s been such a long time he noticed those childlike glimmer in the eyes of the people around him apart from his friends.

“I heard from people you just moved in here.”

“Ah, yes around the first week of March. My friend recommended a better work position around here. I’m an accountant by the way,” she supplies with a chuckle. “How about you? Did you start your business on your own?”

“No, my grandfather started the family business and it was passed down to my mother then to me. It also happened that my patrons are successors of my grandfather’s patrons.

“It’s wonderful then that you continued the family legacy.”

“It is,” Jungkook replies with a timid smile.

The next minutes were spent in silence, less awkward now, and when the bus halts on the fourth stop, Jungkook stands up to bid goodbye when the girl beat him to it.

“This is your stop too?”

Oh, right she lives across him. Jungkook rubs his neck. “Uhh… yes.”

They stepped out of the bus, the girl’s plastic bags secured in Jungkook’s grip (he insists to do so), as they walk in peace past the Italian restaurant. During their silent trip, she dropped in casual remarks how the weather was nice today, or her neighbors were so kind to give her homemade kimchi when she moved. Jungkook told her that people here are really warm and Busan style kimchi is one of a kind to which she agrees. As they go up the stairs of Ahjummah Bongcha’s apartment complex, Jungkook can’t help but glance at his own unit just across the street. How many nights has he spent wondering how this girl lives across him when he can’t even sense an inkling of life and now he’s here, feet landing on the front of her unit in the third floor as he gives her her plastic bags. Lines are lingering at the intersection today before they can become supplementary lines now with a smaller difference of fifty-eight degrees.

“By the way where do you live?” She gives him an inquisitive look as she sets her plastic bags down first before she can put them inside.

Jungkook suddenly feels like a thief caught in his act. “Don’t get creeped out, okay? I live across you –”

“And you didn’t make any remarks when we’re climbing up the steps?”

“I only noticed now, I swear!” Jungkook grins. “I was absentminded when we’re going up the steps –”

She suddenly laughs, slapping his shoulders playfully and Jungkook really does swear a tingle of electricity didn’t just sprout from the contact. “I’m just kidding, don’t get too defensive.” She opens her screen door and makes ready to bid goodbye. “Thank you with the plastic bags, again, Jungkook-sshi.”

Jungkook suddenly realizes he missed something important every rational person engaging in small talk should have known in the first place. He holds onto her arm before she can close the door and she looked so shocked with the sudden action. His next words make those hazel eyes soften and her lips extend into a charming smile Jungkook knows he’ll always remember before he goes to sleep.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“Kim, Sarang.”

The strange sweater girl doesn’t seem so strange now.

The following days have been a blur of sparks and new colors but Jungkook manages to remember them all. The peculiar Kim Sarang, the color of her sweaters, the stretches of her smiles, her longer visits, and the pigments she likes on her mandelas.

Monday permitted him to go to her usual seat and ask about her day as per social convention for two acquaintances. He gestured to her ever familiar coloring book filled with colored and black and white mandelas and he spent that day learning that watercolors and coloring books were a big part of her childhood. She has always been fascinated with transluscence and light play, the way the first splash of tints won’t look the same way when the minutes dried them up.

“You have to be very good in predicting how they’ll look after you painted them, so it’s really important to know the amount of water you’ll put in the paint,” she demonstrates with a flick of her wrists and lets him see the mirage of lilacs filling the petals of another Mandela, the same color of her sweater today.

“Then, you must be really good at predictions,” Jungkook chuckles.

“Nah, the outcomes are just easier for me to see because I’m already used to them.” She then looks at him, “You said your medium of preference is colored pencils so you’re already used how the outcomes of the textures will look.”

“Uh, I think not. I just wing it and it happens to look good.” Jungkook’s crinkled eyes matches the grin now painted on her lips as she laughs.

She ends her laundry duty with Jungkook helping her and a smile with a wave “See you next time” as she steps out his laundromat. The man finds himself planted on the doorstep, watching her leave by twelve o’clock, wishing next time would come sooner.

Soon enough, next time, comes two days later in the form of Wednesday and a game of twenty questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?”

Jungkook grins, “Red.”

It’s Sarang’s turn to start another question.“Favorite holiday?”

“New Year.” Jungkook could already feel warmth spreading on his chest with just the thought of it.

“Oh yours just comes next to mine. Mine’s Christmas.”

“Really? Then you must like all the Christmas lights and the trees”

“God no, I’m just in for the gifts.”

Jungkook’s blank face makes her guffaw. “Okay, I like the lights and trees. It’s sounds so corny when I say it out loud.”

“Then mine’s cornier. I like new beginnings.”

“Wow, you’re sentimental.”

“Yeah, kinda explains why I have that stupid car freshener by my side. Jimin gave it to me when I told him I’m going back in Busan and he thought I have my own car. His face is undescribable when he was so disappointed he saw me coming down from the bus.”

“But he’s happy you kept it.”

“Yeah he was. He’s one sappy fellow-“

He just didn’t expect a third person to join in. “I’m so gonna tell hyung about that.”

“Oh no! Jihyun, Wait!”

Wednesday was quite short when Sarang left by eleven thirty with a grocery errand she has to do and Jungkook says it’s okay, his hand resting on the collar of Jihyun’s shirt. It’s okay, he’ll see her again soon enough.

Friday was not so okay when florist Park Jimin suddenly barged in the laundromat while Jungkook is in mid-sentence about his dog Cloud, Sarang also surprised with the new presence.

“So I heard I was sappy.” Jungkook could tell Jimin was quite offended.

“Uh… you are.”

“You brat –“

“You know you have a business to attend to right?” Jungkook points to his flower shop.

“Shop’s closed because I wanna visit my childhood friend-“

“We see each other everyday.”

“- who happens to just remembers me as a ‘sappy fellow’”

Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook’s company, his eyes lighting up when he recognizes the girl Jungkook was talking about. He offers her a hand, “Sorry for my interruption. I’m Park Jimin, you must be sweater girl-“

Jungkook suddenly chokes on his own spit.

“Umm, Kim Sarang actually.” The girl shakes his offered hand with a polite smile.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes while already pushing Jimin out of the shop, “he makes stupid remarks sometimes but he has good intentions.”

“Hands off me, brat.”

“No, get out. You have your own business to attend to.”

“Hey, you’re only 25, I’m already 27. I was born here first. I ate more rice than you.”

“You-“

Their banter was suddenly interrupted with a set of giggles that came from sweater girl. “You must have a wonderful childhood,” she remarks before she suddenly remembers Jimin might have been set aback “Oh, sorry for laughing, I just-“

“It’s okay,” Jimin reassures, making his way to her side already getting comfortable on the bench, “It’s what makes me charming, got my girlfriend swooning with the Chim Charms.”

Jungkook felt the need to interject. “Yuck.”

“Shut up.”

Sarang’s curiosity wills Jungkook to talk about his childhood. He tells her about how close he was with his grandparents and parents, the treats they spoil him with, and that everyone in town was friends with their family. Jimin also shares in the story-telling when they got to the part how nine year old Jungkook accidentally spilled laundry water on Park Jimin when he was cleaning up. Fortunately, little Jimin agreed to forgive him if he would play with him because other boys in town ignore him since he’s a wimp and with those puppy eyes he won over nine year old troublemaker Jungkook who he later found out was two years younger than him.

“I’m still bitter about it.”

“No one cares hyung.”

Jungkook continues on with his tale. He can’t stop when the girl was looking at him with eyes that will him to talk and talk. It feels strange to tell someone about his whole childhood and adolescence; how he stuck with his friends he met in high school through Jimin, how lightweight he feels telling her all about his good old days, because everyone has, there will always be good days even though life has ever been hopeless and miserable.

Sarang gave him stories of her own happy days in return. He learns that even though she lives far from her parents, they always wait for her daily Skype calls every evening without fail. She also has a childhood friend named Aecha whom she met in daycare when no one wants to play with her because she’s a klutz and kept messing the arranged tables of other girls for tea parties.

“Like Jimin,” Jungkook side comments, earning a playful elbow nudge from the florist to which she laughs.

Sarang tells him she’s got a lot of similarities with Aecha except being good in math to which Jungkook says it happened to be his best subject.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jimin answers before Jungkook can. “He went to school competitions for math quiz bees and he manages to always, always get the gold medal.”

“Pure luck.”

“I think not,” Jimin insists. “His mother has this display thing in their living room where all his medals are. All gold, I’m telling you. Oh, plus certificates from art events in college.”

“Really? Wow, you must have passed through high school and college with flying colors.” Sarang turns to Jungkook and he’s taken aback when he sees the flicker of interest in her eyes. He doesn’t know what to feel about it.

“Can’t give Math all the credits though,” Jungkook rubs his neck. “Drafting classes gave me the rainbow wings which I used to fly with flying colors.”

“Rainbow wings? That’s new,” She sniggered. “You said you draw sometimes but I never thought you were this good.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward laugh as Jimin starts to sell him out again. “He’s really good. He used to draw cool backgrounds for school events which provided him extra allowance he used to treat his family, sometimes me.” Jungkook feels Jimin getting sappy now, “He’s really gifted, he even helped me paint my flower shop which garnered much compliments from my customers.”

Sarang’s smile got wider now. “If you’re good in numbers and art, I’m guessing you took architecture as your major right?”

“Uhh yes,” Jungkook rubs his nape again, already uncomfortable. Jimin suddenly senses this and tries to change the subject but-

“You must have tried making blueprints for a company before, no?”

The sudden question got Jungkook rigid and stiff. He suddenly diverted his eyes away from her, her words left hanging caused a sudden sweep of cold air in the midst of spring, seemingly freezing their conversation as well in a hideous iceberg, suddenly growing sharp spikes that taunt him. Seasons should be chronological in manner, he can’t remember autumn when he’s trusting spring to cure him. He can’t remember now-

“Your watch, is that your father’s?”

Jungkook returns his gaze on her, her hazel eyes so gentle and her thin lips smiling not as wide as before but it’s still warm enough to soften the edges of the tension. Jungkook appreciates her effort of noticing his discomfort and exhales slowly with “Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s got brown leather straps and the face is already yellowed. It’s quite a trend for men back then.”

Jungkook dismisses any unpleasant thoughts when he pulls a smile for himself. Good old days. “I always liked these straps than stainless silver ones. I’m more comfortable with this.”

Jimin smiles and tries to liven up the mood again, “Yeah, when he got it from his dad he won’t shut up about it.”

Jungkook stares at him to which Jimin nudges away.

Sarang leaves by twelve thirty, laundry in hand, and an apology to what happened earlier. Jungkook can’t bring himself to watch her leave like he always does.

“You know, she doesn’t know, right? Don’t be too upset.” Jimin tears his attention from whatever that will seem to enclose around him again.

“I know hyung, it’s just-“

“I understand. Just… don’t be closed off. I think there’s still something about her,” Jimin scrunches his face as he gestures, “with the four times a week laundry duty or maybe just because she’s a clean freak. But seeing her now,” he looks at the laundromat owner, “she’s kinda alright; just… curious and interested. Like you are about her.”

It wasn’t until he got home by the raven night sky of ten o’clock does he understand Jimin’s point when he finds a plastic food container containing a still hot stew before his doorstep. He picks up the sticky note attached on top of it, a neat handwritten “I’m sorry about earlier - KS” in black ink. No need to feel too hurt. It’s been years, he has to move on. It is already a luxury to have the pure interest of others for the purpose of understanding in this world when nitpicking other’s flaws mattered more than anything else for the ‘necessity’ of leverage on others.

Jungkook straightens up, a smile and wave ready to be sent to the apartment across his only to be greeted by a dark unit with no hint of any life.

Sunday came around too soon for Jungkook’s liking but the thought was quickly diminished when his eyes caught a movement of rose pink while he’s reading the 13th volume of Naruto. He snaps his neck toward the wall clock and right, it’s already nine o’clock. Of course, spring is here.

He stood up from his desk and found Sarang already seated on her usual spot, same coloring book and watercolor set by her side. He walks by her side and before she acknowledges him, he already starts speaking.

“Uhh Sarang, thank you for the kimchi stew two days ago, I just,” he looks down when he feels his throat getting blocked up. “I hope I didn’t scare you that day.”

“Oh no, you didn’t,” she shifted in her seat. “I just felt bad because I thought maybe I offended you in some way-“

“No offense taken, the topic was just… uncomfortable for me.” Sarang gestured for him to take a seat beside her and he does so. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it anytime soon.”

“I know, it’s okay,” she smiles. “People don’t like talking about what unsettles them.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Sarang’s smile just gets wider. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s only for him with the way it looks somehow strange but he knows he feels a tad better now.

“You’re a great cook by the way. The stew was amazing. It has this some distinct taste, definitely not from Busan. It must be from your hometown then.”

Jungkook notices her eyes flicker in a way he can’t comprehend but he doesn’t mind it too much when she tells him “I- I don’t think it reflects anything from my hometown. I used to live in Gwangsan-gu, Gwangju, but I never managed to capture the Gwangju taste in my cooking.” She paused for a while before she lets out a chuckle, “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the minutes by her side in silence, watching her color the pages in uniform motion, union in her strokes evident, and how her favor of blue tints always happen to appear in huge splotches or in tiny linear details.

She leaves early by ten o’clock because of accounting works she needs to be done for the client she’s working with. Jungkook sends her off with a smile, watching her retreating figure. Few words were shared today but Jungkook could see more opportunities in the following days, affirmed so when she turns back for the first time before she rounds the Italian restaurant to give him one last smile.

The following weeks proved it to be true as each day bled to another one. The day seemed like a millisecond, too miniscule for Jungkook when months ago they felt tediously long like centuries. Spring will come by nine o’clock and another conversation and shared laughter will fill the timeframe of Sarang’s visit before they’ll part by twelve with full smiles and shy waves of their hands in their wake. His shop became livelier with animated chatters and giggles, stories of how he found a stray pup with his group of friends by the corner of their college dormitory and decided he’ll keep him as Cloud, how Sarang laughed when she told him she sucked at math and how many times she failed her college entrance exams but she still wants to be accountant so no one’s gonna stop her at that. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she snorted as Jungkook cackled. It sounds too hilarious that it surprised the man himself but he doesn’t care. It felt so long ago since he felt like this.

“D’you have anything you’re good at?”

Sarang turns to him with an incredulous look before lifting her book to him “Isn’t it obvious already?”

“No,” Jungkook sniggers as he clears his statement, “I mean aside from watercolor painting.”

“Well, what are you good at besides math and drawing.” She raises her eyebrows and moves them comically, something Jungkook considers weird at the same time awfully cute.

“You won’t believe it but I sing and dance.”

“Okay, you’re just bluffing.”

“No, it’s true!”

“As if. No one can be a whole package, you dork.”

“Just wait ‘til you see this,” the man fumbles for his phone, eyes scanning through numerous files before his thumb presses on the center. It starts to play with seven men on the stage in flashy outfits getting ready with their formation as a thunderous beat starts to boom out from his phone. “Too loud, too loud for the shop,” and Jungkook frantically inserts the jack of his earphones, fits his ear with one bud, and as he turns to his side, he never imagined he’ll get a close up of Sarang’s warm hazel eyes. “She really has pretty eyes- okay I’m violating her personal space.”

Jungkook clears his throat, “Umm, if you don’t mind I-” His fingers were ready to fit the bud in the girl’s ears before his action was intercepted with the girl’s much smaller fingers that sends a jolt to the man’s body.

“It’s okay,” she smiles, fitting the bud in her own ear. “I wanna watch your performance you’re so adamant to show me.”

“Not that adamant - okay fine.” Jungkook presses play again yet he cannot bring his eyes to focus on his first ever show performance for their college event. It was a good show actually, but Jungkook reasons he looks like shit there anyway and the view in front of him is much nicer to look at. Sarang with her eyes trained on the performance, lips painted in cherry gloss parted slightly, her figure leaning closer to him to get a much better view from his small outdated handphone. Jungkook basks in the lack of proximity between them as he watches her locks fall forward on the side of her face and God, he wants to tuck that hair behind her ear but he has to control himself so he puts his other hand on his side of his ear bud to look he’s also focused on the show. He’s never been focused on someone as much as now.

Five minutes have already passed as Sarang leans back in her place, surprising Jungkook as he realizes he’s stared at her profile for so long.

“You- you like it?” Jungkook trains his eyes somewhere to keep the blush creeping on his cheeks

“Yeah, you got some killer moves there, and vocals too, Mr. Justin Seagull”

“Oh my god, that was the dumbest stage name ever that I thought back then was really cool.” If spring has colored his cheeks earlier, well now his ears are already in vibrance too. “Anyway, what about me being a ‘whole package’ you said earlier,” Jungkook raises his eyebrow to attempt a smug look and he himself is surprised where the hell he got this cringey confidence just to mask up his blushing self.

“Oh stop it,” She chuckles, playfully hitting his shoulder. She looks down at her forgotten book as she smacks her lips together before she looks his way again. “To answer your question earlier, there’s something I’m also good at, aside from painting and my work.”

“Really? What is it?”

“I dance.”

“Can you show-“

“Sorry, I don’t have any embarrassing footage to show in exchange.”

“Hey, unfair!”

Jungkook never thought he could grin this much without hurting his jaw. Smiling, laughing – it felt so surprisingly effortless. It felt like he travelled back in time, back to his good old days with this foreign excitement he used to have now embedded on his chest that continues to manifest, overwhelming and unyielding even when he tried to contain them. He decides he wouldn’t stop; he can’t. He’ll continue to run over this uncharted zone, farther past the familiarity of what he has grown up to.

Each day, another page is colored in Sarang’s coloring book.

“What if you only use the colors I’m going to say for the next page.”

“I’m gonna accept that challenge.”

Jungkook grins.“Okay… use purple, pink, and brown.”

Sarang immediately flips the book close. “Forget it, you have a terrible color choice.”

“Just try it!”

“Fine.”

After a few minutes, Jungkook was already gaping at her. “Wow, it looked amazing.”

“Of course, I have to amend the hideous color scheme.”

“It was just for a challenge – okay touche.”

Everyday, another area is marked with memories on the unknown field of unfamiliarity.

“You know, you always walk in my shop in sweaters of various colors.”

“Well, I like colorful stuff.”

“Ohhhhkaayy.” Jungkook immediately leaves her place.

“Where are you going- Wait what is this?”

“Strawberry popsicle,” he hands it to her. “It’s pastel in color plus you’ve been eyeing that in my vending machine since yesterday.”

“Oh okay, thank-“

“That would be 500 won.”

“Nevermind.”

“I’m kidding! Take it, my treat.”

Everyday, another new conversation for Jungkook to run in his head as he slept with thoughts of supplementary lines, their angles not so askew anymore with 100 and 80 degrees angles, a 20 degree difference that makes him smile . Constellations on his ceiling started to burn brighter now, awakening dead stars long forgotten in the dust.

Weeks and weeks followed with Sarang’s longer visits and the ever present color of spring on Jungkook’s cheek that reflected their blooming friendship. A few times, the man finds himself convincing no one but him that he’s already satisfied with their childlike tales and childhood stories, sometimes mature discussions, and then… and then the prolonged stares, lingering touches, shy smiles. It’s foolish, pointless even to deny he wanted that 20 degree difference in their supplementary lines to disappear. In fact, no more supplementary lines; he wanted to feel her presence other than in his laundromat, the only intersection he has with her. How about a line? That could go on and on forever; he can meet her everyday with no hindrances at all. Right, he can opt for a line-

“So… how’s your girlfriend, son?”

“Huh?”

“Your girlfriend? The one with the coloring book.” Mr. Changmin Song tries again. Jungkook was still taken aback with the sudden interference in his thoughts so he lets his eyes focus again to what’s in front of him. Oh right, he was helping Mr. Song in packing his laundry. His mind is wandering towards her way too much again.

He clears his throat as he packs the last bundle in clear plastic. “Uhh, she’s… not my girlfriend.”

“You two always have a nice time here everyday, also not to mention I saw the food container on your doorstep one night when I went up to get my pliers back from Eunhui.” Mr. Song insists.

Right, everyone in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone, what did he expect? “We’re just friends, Mr. Song.” With three packed bundles in tow, Jungkook uses his hip to push his glass door open, stepping out of the shop to proceed to secure the bundles on Mr. Song’s bike.

Mr. Song follows him outside and positions himself next to his bike as he gives the laundromat owner a grateful smile. “Thanks son for helping me with this.”

Jungkook sends him a polite bow in return with “Anytime, sir.”

As the elder man positions himself on the bike, ready to pedal back home, he calls Jungkook’s attention one last time. “You know son, if you wanna get the girl, ask her on a proper date. That’s how I got my wife stuck by my side ever since. Okay I’m gonna go now, good luck with your romantic endeavors.”

“Thank..you, sir.”

Right. It’s foolish to convince himself he’s already satisfied with his friendship with Sarang, when from the start he already wanted more. The interest and attraction was already there, evident in his eyes even. Jimin tells him so one Wednesday night, spaghetti half finished as Jungkook cannot keep himself still in the back room of the florist’s shop.

“You look like a hungry puppy whenever you talk about her. Are you that thirsty?”

Jungkook spits out the water he’s drinking.

“What the hell?! That’s just unnecessary!” Jungkook accepts the napkins the florist handed him. ”How did Minyoung tolerate you with that mouth of yours?“

“It’s the Chim Charms – okay I’m gonna be serious.” Jimin pulls a straight face when Jungkook attempts to splash the water to his face.

“Hyung, I just…,” Jungkook messes up his hair in frustration, maybe in embarrassment also. “I wanna get to know about her other than in my shop. I want to meet her everyday, not just every other day.” He lets a shy smile slip on at the thought.

“…sap.”

“What?”

“Nothing! First off, go text her. Of course you already have her number, right - What do you mean no?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “I don’t know how to… you know I don’t know much in the dating scene. I’m not like you, or Tae-hyung, or Seokjin hyung who’s effortless in picking up girls.”

“Then the next time you see her, during your conversation just slip in casually, ‘hey can I get your number, if it’s okay?’” Jimin sees Jungkook’s eyes widen and he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just be casual, okay? Keep it cool and manly like what you always fail to seem to be - ouch that hurt!”

A kick on the shin to his friend, and a “Thank you for the meal and happy birthday, more years for you to tolerate my insufferable hyung,” to Minyoung who sends him off with a friendly smile, Jungkook leaves Park’s Flower Shop. It’s already thirty minutes before midnight. He’ll just sleep it off then tomorrow he can see her again. His lips unconsciously pull into a smile.

He whistles the tune of some love song he heard in the radio as he makes the final steps towards the main door of his apartment complex when his eyes catches an unfamiliar movement right across him. Are those arms waving at him?

“Jungkook!”

Great. Now his mind is conjuring an imitation of her voice. He must be going crazy. He shakes his head and continues to walk only to be stilled again.

“Jungkook, hey!”

It sounds too real. He lets his eyes sweep before him, stopping at the movement of a figure and arms as he strain to focus them. Okay, this can’t be real.

“Sarang?”

“Yes! Sorry to bother you so late, but can I ask you a favor?”

Jungkook never thought he’ll get to see her this soon. “Okay, just hold this for me then I’m done,” Jungkook gives her the pliers he was using before returning to the bunch of red and black wires he was fiddling. A few twists here and there and a wrap of electrical tape, Jungkook bends down to plug in the now fixed cord of Sarang’s washing machine.

“I’m so sorry for disturbing you so late, I know you must be on your way home but you’re the only one I know around here-“

“Hey, what’s the rush?” Jeonguk stands up to meet Sarang’s eyes, stilling her from her rambling. “It’s okay,” He assures to which the girl relaxes her rigid shoulders. It really is okay, Jungkook thinks. More than okay, actually, when he gets to see Sarang in a messy bun, glasses perched on the bridge of her button nose, slim frame dressed in a long dress he guessed must belong to her mother.

“Umm, okay,” Sarang’s eyes wanders to the side, probably thinking what to say to fill in the silence. They must be doing it a lot, filling in the silence. The awkwardness drives the man to let his eyes travel around the unit that has always been plunged in darkness, until now. The furniture was decent, minimalist even with her small sofa pushed to the wall and an old television situated across the room. A coffee table in the center holds a couple of fashion and art magazines his mother used to display in the laundromat. Aside from that, nothing much stood out – no picture frames, any memorabilia that may give him a glimpse of her childhood.

“You must have been in the middle of unpacking.” Jungkook turns back to her.

“Huh?”

“Your unit,” he gestures around the room, “it misses picture frames of your family. I remember you told me your mom likes taking photos.”

“Ah yeah,” Sarang bites her lip, “I left some of the boxes back in Gwangju. The moving company will bring them to me by next week.”

Before Jungkook could enjoy more of her company, Sarang’s voice brings him back to his rationality. “Thank you for your help again. I know it must be getting late; I owe you a lot.”

“Ah, no need to worry about that,” Jungkook walks toward her screen door, Sarang close behind him.

“I still feel embarrassed though; If you need any favor in return, feel free to ask.”

“Okay, noted” Jungkook grins. A favor from sweater girl? Wow, he actually hit the jackpot tonight. But what favor can he ask her of? There’s practically nothing he needs assistance of - wait.

Before Sarang could send him off with a smile, Jungkook’s foot wedges itself between her screen door and wall, wind knocked out from himself with the sudden action.

“Actually, I already have a favor in mind,” Jungkook smiles. “Can I have your number?”

Jungkook never thought a day could pass without his heart humming around his ribcage. His days were still as is: open the laundromat at 5:30, collect the coin and clean the shop around nine or ten before he closes; refill vending machine and change machine every Tuesday and Thursday; do accounting works on Friday nights. Sarang still drops by at nine every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, her stays getting longer and longer that Jungkook started sharing lunch times with her. The only difference might be the constant exchange of messages that fills his mornings and nights with grins and bubbling joy. He still isn’t able to have her presence in Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays; nor does the light in her unit rarely signal her residence in her home, but he got messages all week around to fill him with his hunger he never felt before.

Sometimes they’ll talk about miniature things that have never been interesting until now.

“So I read one day that washing machines have some meaning to them.”

“Yeah?” Sarang stops to look at his profile. “You’re starting to be real poetic about your business now.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I just came across it. Since they turn the clothes around them, it somehow mimics a cycle. You put dirty things in them and they come out clean now, kind of like how you change oneself for the better.”

Other times they’ll send messages about things that they have taken note of each other.

Sarang: Hey, I just passed Mr. Sangmin’s bakery. I bought some muffins. (3:30 PM)

Jungkook: Oh really? I’m gonna buy some later ahahahha (3:31 PM)

Sarang: No need. I already bought enough for us two. Expect me there by 4. (3:31 PM)

Jungkook whips his head to the calendar by his desk. It’s Tuesday, that’s strange-

Sarang: You know, you always text with “ahahahha” like an awkward teenage boy (3:32 PM)

Jungkook: Maybe I am (3:32 PM)

Jungkook: ahhahaahah (3:32 PM)

The man’s attention diverts to the sound of the chimes by the shop’s door.

“Welcome –“

“Hi,” Sarang smiles. “I got some muffins for an awkward “teenage boy”.

But there are also times when they’ll send each other signals that cross whichever boundaries set by social convention. Maybe it’s just him, Jungkook doesn’t really know.

Jungkook: I always have fun when I talk with you (10:30 PM)

Sarang: Me too. I have never experienced talking with someone for hours until now :D (10:31 PM)

Jungkook brings down his phone to look across Sarang’s balcony. Another Wednesday night granted him a soft glow in the room, a smile spreading on his face as warmth envelops his chest.

“Yeah, me too.”

Never has Jungkook been more curious of Sarang’s strange lifestyle when the following Friday night came. It was around nine thirty when the laundromat owner closed the shop and stayed inside to do accounting works when a set of three knocks on his glass door broke his focus on his tax returns.

Jungkook stands up from his desk to walk towards the door, familiarity sinking in along with surprise when he finally makes out the face of his late night visitor.

“Sarang?” the man immediately opens the door to let her in. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

The girl removes her denim jacket, her slim form accentuated in a fit white tee and tight jeans. “Are you not expecting any visitors?” Her amused voice sounds foreign to his ears, already bringing his attention back to her from his dazed state.

“Ah, actually no. My patrons know I close around this time on Fridays. I was just… surprised. Yeah…” and this might be quite an understatement. He never expected to see her at all tonight with her clad in something so flattering to her proportions, too foreign from the comfort of her sweater and jeans ensemble. Maybe he wasn’t just used to it, anyways at least he got to see her again.

“So what brings you here?” Jungkook asks as he sets down a cup of green tea on his desk, smiling at the girl who’s seated across him.

She adjusts her seat on the extra stool the man brought out before saying her thank you. “I- I was just done with my work and I just saw the light is still on in the shop so…”

“It’s alright, I was just curious,” Jungkook dismisses, sitting himself back in his chair surrounded with papers and cash invoices. “Though I’m gonna be busy for a while, gotta do some paperwork.”

“That would be alright,” Sarang smiles.

The following minutes passed with the scratches of ink on paper and soft chuckles. Sarang decided to help him with his purchases “so you can finish faster, plus this is also what I work with so it’s fun.” Jungkook can’t help but sneak few glances at the girl, with her eyes focused on the numbers, fingers swiftly pressing on the calculator, and her lips painted so red he just noticed now. The surprise of her sudden visit still doesn’t wear off when he can’t still believe the girl who spends her nights away from her home is just here right across him now. He could just reach out and grab her hand and ask her if she feels the same way about him as he does about her because he’s confused if the attraction he feels, sees even, is just conjured by his inexperienced mind. He turns back to the computation he’s doing. It’s too soon for that anyway.

“Is it your dream to manage your family business?”

“Huh?” He felt his mind halt as all thought still around him.

Sarang clears her throat as she puts her pen down, account of his purchases already done. “Has it always been your dream to do the laundromat business?”

He clears his throat. He never told anyone about this nor deemed this topic worth talking about because of the uncertainties that plagued however he can’t fathom the unusual feeling his chest - so light as if he was floating. “Actually, no... It was my childhood dream though.” Jungkook leans back, papers already stacked neatly. “When I was in kindergarten, my teacher asked us to draw our dream and I drew the whole shop with our patrons and me sat on the desk. While growing up, I learned I really liked math and drawing so I became an architect. It didn’t occur to me it as my dream though.”

“Then what is it?”

Jungkook halfheartedly smiles, “I’m still not quite sure yet, but I do know I’m content with what I have now.” He feels he’ll turn the atmosphere somber now if he speaks of what happened years ago so he just pulls his smile a little wider for her, however he also can’t decipher what the girl’s tight smile means.

Jungkook doesn’t know what goes on in Sarang’s mind and he wishes to know what causes the unfamiliar look in her eyes, just like now, someday. He hopes to know why she’s never at home on some nights, what she does on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. When he thinks of it, sometimes he feels he knows her, has the little things about her mapped out on his palm for him to always remember, and there are some times, like now, when the people you seem to know can be strangers too in mere minutes. He thinks he may seem like a stranger earlier if he divulged the misery and pain he felt when he went to the city that made him realize dreams are not just labels. They can become strangers they can be familiar with when they’re both ready. Comfort with oneself can wait, he’ll settle with the comfort offered by familiarity so tonight he’ll be someone who’s familiar to her image of him – a 25 year old inexperienced in dating, awkward “teenage” boy who likes to talk about good old days.

“How about you? Have you dreamt of being an accountant since you were a child?

“ No… I don’t know.”

“Hmm?”

“I really don’t know what my dream is. I just know that I like doing this kind of paperworks. But it’s not enough for me to be called as a dream.”

“You’ll find it eventually. Everyone has one.”

Jungkook looks down to his stack of papers, stooping down to put them in the cabinet of his desk. “How about painting?”

“W-what?”

“Painting,” Jungkook says louder as he stands up to meet her hazy gaze. “You really like coloring mandelas and they look really wonderful, too.”

Sarang rubs her shoulder, “It’s just – just a hobby I had when I was in middle school – I don’t think-“

“You should try though. Start coloring your own life; you’ve already colored enough of the black and whites of others.”

Somehow, the following minutes, hours until they closed the shop together around eleven thirty, Jungkook manages to see her warm hazel eyes again.

Their weighty conversation about dreams and warmth became the catalyst for Sarang’s visits on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday nights right before Jungkook closes the shop, as if her laundry visits in the morning were not yet enough. Jungkook could already feel the supplementary lines closing on in 95 and 85 degrees angles, an almost equal split and he’s never felt such excitement run its course down his bones.

On some Sunday night, they talked about Sarang’s high school memories.

“My mom skyped me yesterday by the way, she said she sent me my high school graduation pictures I left when I was packing. I just received them this morning,” she hands him a 2x2 photo.

“Wow, you look the same back then. You’re really pretty-“ Jungkook snaps his head to her, his hand on his mop stilling as he balks.

“Really?” Her grin spreads faster than the heat rising above the man’s cheeks.

“I mean- yes you’re pretty –“

“Thanks for the compliment! I’m gonna give you that photo as a thank you.”

It’s actually too much for a gratitude but anyway, he’ll take what he can get and Jungkook turns and tucks it in his wallet when she was busy wiping the glass door.

One Monday night was quite romantic when they both decided to cook carbonara for their late dinner in the kitchen at the back of the laundromat. She was actually surprised when he mentioned there’s a small kitchen in the shop so he explained his Grandpa extended the back of the shop to accommodate his Grandma’s fondness for cooking while managing the shop.

“You sure like pasta, hmm?” Sarang gives him a teasing smile as she stirs the cream.

“Yeah, but I, for the life of me, cannot cook my own favorite dish,” Jungkook snickered, heart swelling as he watched the girl prance around, pink apron his mother used to wear now neatly tight around her waist.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna cook for you instead.”

True to her word, Jungkook finds a familiar plastic food container on his doorstep the following week with a pink post it note saying “This is tuna carbonara, a specialty from my mom. Hope you like it ;)“

And last Wednesday night was when he realized his New Year actually happened. It was the best night he ever had since years.

“No Sarang, I’m going to ruin what you drew.”

“You know that’s not true; just paint and go; you had rainbow wings, remember?” Sarang smiles as he grabs his hand, and gives him a paintbrush.

It’s been years since Jungkook held anything that is related with art tools, anything that created lines and forms used to make him sick. However, none of that was present now, his chest unusually feeling light at the thought. He looks up towards the girl as she lays out two A4 papers with her hand drawn mandelas, her eyes glimmering with a shine he never saw before they started to talk, even before she was just silently coloring away in her own little world.

He sits himself beside her and grabs the first pigment that catches his eyes – lime green – youth, new beginnings, then cherry red – candy pops, sweet pomegranates he loved to eat in summer, and yellow, bright yellow – sunflower fields, summer, joy. After years of wrapping his heart with regret, disappointment, and hatred, he thought he would never feel happy again. But now – now he was actually happy, unadulterated joy that is so childlike he feels his chest is going to combust. He remembers all that he loves with the colors he chose - his family, friends, the life here in his neighborhood, the warmth he was showered with ever since he was born. It was time to let go, he realizes, now that he started to love again the warmth in this life he chose, now that his new year have already happened.

“I know my dream now,” Jungkook mutters as he stops his strokes and turns to face Sarang. “My dream is to live in a nice neighborhood filled with warmth. Sounds cheesy I know.” He giggles.

“No continue on,” Sarang prods him.

“Back then I thought dreams are supposed to be what you want to be, what job you want to have. We’re kinda systemized to think that our jobs define us anyway. After a series of success, disappointments later, I finally realized that dreams can be where you want to be, what your soul wants to experience, not just some title to add to your identity. When I went back to my hometown, here, it really felt a dream. You can’t be always happy with your dream though since happiness heavily relies on your state of mind but if it’s your dream, you have to feel content with it. Happiness can be found in contentedness anyway.”

Silence follows when Jungkook stops. He searches her eyes as he gulps his nervousness. He never bared this side of him to anyone yet.

“That’s wonderful, Jungkook” Sarang smiles so wide, cherry red lips matching the color he loved on the geometric design she drew, red, bright red- adoration. Time seems to have stilled in the chilly evening as Jungkook keeps his eyes on her, the tingling feeling blooming in his chest, bursting into fireworks, filling his heart with colors and sparks he never seen before, colors he deemed will never come to his life. And he feels the same sparks swimming in her eyes as he leans forward and places his lips against hers, uncertainties fading into nonexistence as he tastes the sweetness of youth and the thrill of new years on her soft lips.

“Wait, what, you kissed her?”

“Uh… yeah,” Jungkook shies away from the florist’s scrutinizing gaze. He trains his eyes instead on the Polaroid of their friends, sipping the tea his friend prepared when he suddenly visited without premise on a Tuesday night.

“Wow,” Jimin leans back in his chair, carding his hands through his hair, “I never thought you were this impulsive.”

“I don’t even know if that’s an actual kiss!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just placed my lips on hers and that’s that; I didn’t even move ‘cause I’m really nervous but when I pulled away she was smiling at me and I think it’s okay but I-,” Jungkook stops as he slumps forward, “I really don’t know how she feels. I’m sure I like her, really like her, and I really like the kiss and then the next day she just smiled at me and acted like we usually do.”

“So, you just… go back to just being friends?”

“Somehow.”

“You know you’re treading in dangerous waters, now, right? Friends don’t treat each other like that; you’ve been prancing around each other and acting as lovers already. You have to clarify what you feel already or you’re just going to blur the lines further and cause more confusion on both of you.”

“But I don’t wanna scare her, hyung.” Jungkook bites his lips. He keeps thinking what he has now with Sarang is enough but he knows he is fooling himself because he knows he wants more, especially when he felt his feet running on soft grass and experiencing new horizons when he’s with her. “Also, I don’t even know what she does at nights and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays - she’s rarely at home at all.”

“You still haven’t figured that out?” Jimin’s tone bounds on a wary one and it makes Jungkook more anxious.

“No… she pretty divulged everything from her childhood, school life, and even her work and when I look at her, it seems I know everything about her but at the same time nothing about her.”

“Okay, I know you usually dismiss me when I tell you ‘speculations’ of housewives around here and I think Sarang’s a pretty good girl. But I won’t deny I actually saw her earlier with a man-“

“But maybe it’s just because of her work. You know she does accounting for business people!” Jungkook finds it ridiculous. No one knows Sarang like he does. He’s the only one she’s close with around her, she said so herself.

“Alright, alright,” Jimin pats the younger’s forearms, placating the situation. “I’m just telling you what I saw, no need to be too defensive.”

Jungkook knows Jimin was just looking out for him; he was just somewhat disappointed how the florist can think of Sarang like that when he barely knew her. How can he think of her like that?

Jimin decides to go back to the initial purpose of their conversation. “Okay Kook, if you want to know more about her, go ahead. Ask her directly. Tell your feelings directly. You’ll never go anywhere unless you actually face the path you want to take.” Jimin takes in a breath before continuing. “It may… It may actually help if you tell her what happened to the engineering company you worked in. You already encouraged her to open up good memories with you when you started talking about yours. Maybe… maybe if you talked about more personal, things you want to hide, maybe she can tell you about hers too. Maybe she’s just like you, keeping personal stuff away and safe from anyone’s scrutiny. And if you started talking about yours, you’ll send her the message you’re serious with her and want to get to know her sincerely with hopes she’ll return the same feelings as yours.”

“Thanks, Jimin. Actually,” Jungkook looks at him, “I now got over that problem of mine. I actually felt I already set myself free from the past two years I drowned myself in endless self-pity and hatred. I actually feel happy now.” Jungkook smiles, the curve almost reaching his eyes, and he’s never been more proud of himself until now.

“Re-really? That’s great!” Jimin exclaims, arms grabbing the laundromat owner to hug him. Jungkook almost tears up, he can’t believe he’ll be able to actually say that himself now. “I’m happy, I’m actually happy again, mom, dad, Junghyun hyung.’” He can’t believe this was his new year at all – he thought it was meeting Sarang but he never thought accepting himself will be his new year, his new beginning. His days with Sarang made him relive his days; his memories that made him remember his dream, his happiness. And he felt Jimin now understand fully what Sarang meant to him when he pull away, eyes glassy reflecting his as he says, “I’m really glad, Jungkook, I’m proud of you. I hope things will go well with Sarang.”

Jungkook dwells longer in Jimin’s home, relishing in the positivity that filled the florist’s unit, washing away any tension that occurred earlier. Around eleven thirty, when Jungkook was putting on his shoes by the florist’s doorstep, he decides he’ll tell Sarang what he really feels for her tomorrow. He cannot wait anymore; he’s ready to finally tell her more of himself tomorrow, the things he was proud of and the things he was not. He trusts her enough to give her his heart, as a whole now.

“That’s good. I’ll cheer for you, Kook. Oh by the way,” Jimin stops him in the hallway, “go ask her also to be your date in Seokjin’s wedding. July 21st is already around the corner.”

“I will do that hyung – wait what month is it now?”

“It’s almost halfway of June, kiddo. June 13 to be exact.” Two months have already passed and summer has already started. Jungkook lets out an amused laugh; it always felt it was spring whenever he’s with Sarang.

Jungkook smiles as he waves goodbye, “I almost forgot Seokjin hyung’s wedding is in July.”

When tomorrow came, Jungkook postponed business so he can drop by around eight thirty at Saemi’s Bookstore, a shop owned by Mrs. Jinhee Park’s daughter, just a street away from Jeon’s Laundromat. It was the bookstore where he usually bought his art supplies back in high school, instead today, he’s not gonna buy something for himself. With the bills he saved in a piggy bank he never thought he owned, he purchased two sets of artist grade watercolors, a set of brushes, and one ream of A4 papers because a canvas and easel was not in the inventory of the bookstore. Once he goes to the city, he will promise Sarang he’ll buy her one.

By nine o’clock, he was already going up the stairs of Ahjummah Bongcha’s apartment complex when his arrival was met with a swing of the door and spring entering his line of vision clad in a cerulean sweater, basket of laundry in hands. Except today, spring is not in his shop but in the shell of her home.

“Hi,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly.

“Ju-Jungkook-“ her surprise was still written on her face when Jungkook gently pulls her toward back into the warmth of her home.

When he sets down his huge paper bags on her coffee table, he wipes his clammy hands on his jeans as he looks at her surprised form, confusion still written on her expression.

“Good morning,” Jungkook adds a wave because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Don’t you think you should have said that before barging in my room?” Sarang says with a teasing shine in her eyes, but the man could not focus on anything but the way her cheeks are colored in cherry. He hopes it’s because of him.

“So what’s that?”

“I – I actually bought something for you. Since I don’t know what type of flowers you like, I figured I’d bring you something you like instead, so here,” he opens the paper bag and shows her the sets of watercolors he got for her, “They may not be roses but they are also filled with colors and I hope you like them.”

“Jungkook they’re wonderful.” He looks at Sarang’s eyes to find them so glassy and it is until she closes up to him that he open his arms to accept her form hugging him. “Thank you – Thank you so much,” she sniffles. The man immediately pries himself away to look at her eyes, wiping her tears.

“Why-Why are you crying?”

She turns away, “No it-s just-it’s just no one has done something like this for me. A-and-”

Jungkook makes her turn back to him, “and what?”

“No one really acknowledged my dream, e-even my mom. They sa-said it was just a po-pointless hobby and I’ll never earn anything from it. I usually referred to it as just a ho-hobby but then when you said I have to start coloring my own life and then this-” she stops to look at the watercolors and then at the brushes peeking in the other paperbag. She chokes on a sob again. “I-I never even got the opportunity to buy one for myself and then here you come taking with you all the stuff I ever wanted and needed,” she pauses, “metaphorically and literally and I know I’m blabbering too much but thi-this is all too much. I-I cannot say anything other than than-thank you so-so much. Thank you so much Jungkook.”

And as her sobs die down her body, Jungkook hugging her and carding through her hair after finding out it calms her down, he finally learns a lot of things he was dying to know. She mumbles she spends her Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to go to the city to finish all the accounting jobs she does for businessmen in the surplus.

“I’m so sick of it but I cannot stop doing them because I won’t be able to make as many money I need,” she leans closer to him, her cheek warm with tears pressed against Jungkook’s chest.

It doesn’t take a toll on her though, she adds, she’s already used to the underside of life. She’s been through horrible bosses before, and didn’t wish a repeat of her experiences that’s why she left the city and went to this province.

“All of them are horribe – a-all of them.”

Her painful experience in the working industry was not the entire reason she left home. Eyes red, she doesn’t stop crying. “I left be-because I was afraid my mom will disown me, I told her I will be successful and yet he-here I am - so – someone she could never be proud of. I love her so-so much and I’m afraid she can’t even stomach the sight-sight of me and I-“

“Sarang, you’re a wonderful daughter any mother could be proud of. She doesn’t need you to be successful or what. You’re already enough; you have dreams and you’re a good person. If you think no one could ever be proud of you - you’re wrong,” Jungkook pulls himself from her to look at her eyes reflecting nothing but him. “I’m proud of you and I’m really grateful life gave me the opportunity to meet you.”

And that’s enough for her to relax her rigid form, her arms wounding tighter around him as Jungkook sways them to the lull of his heartbeat to calm her down.

He’ll have to tell her his feelings some other day. Watching Sarang give him a piece of her without him initiating anything is enough for him. He’ll hold onto that piece dearly and when he manages to give her his broken pieces he left in the dead nebulas of his ceiling, he wishes she’ll hold onto them too.

Jungkook goes to the laundromat and flips the sign to “Come in, you’re welcome.” Sarang did not visit at night.

Sunday came along with the following weeks and Sarang’s late night visits stopped as her morning laundry duties dwindled into only an hour in the shop around Mondays and Fridays only. She brings A4 papers decorated in different hand drawn mandelas and the watercolor set Jungkook brought her, however Jungkook feels he’s back to square one. She talks like the usual but her clipped sentences, half hearted giggles, and unfamiliar eyes make him think she’s avoiding him. He doesn’t want to go back to what they were before, not when he finally saw her whole piece, not when he wants to take all his chances to tell her he loves her. But if this is what it makes for her to stay a little longer by his side, he’ll wait until she’s ready to share herself again to him.

Another week passes when he finally sees a chance to be honest with her.

It was three in the afternoon of a humid Wednesday when he heard whimpers and “Jungkook I-I don’t know what-what’s hap-happening” from a call and immediately, the man closed his shop and sped to the unit he spent his nights wondering.

“Sarang?” He walks in and finds her slumped by her laundry, tears mixing with the water that started to flood the small room, the water frosty as it reached his feet. He runs to the side and pushes the toppled washing machine upright again. “Shit, what happened?”

“I – I’m so-sorry! I was just wa-washing my-my clothes then the washing machine suddenly stops and so-something went wrong with the outlet a-and I panicked and sud-suddenly water started overflowing- I’m so-sorry I don’t know what – what to do anymore.”

“Shhh, don’t cry,” he stoops down to her and helps her up, “I’ll help you fix this, don’t cry anymore.”

After an hour into cleaning up the flood, and fixing the outlet with another faulty wire he hasn’t noticed that started the trouble, Jungkook sees Sarang by the lavatory of her bathroom, face devoid of tears and hands frantically washing tons of vibrant clothess Jungkook swears he’s never seen on her before.

“The washing machine is fixed already.”

She whips her head to him, hands stilling, “Oh-oh thank you, I’ll just finish this.“ She wipes her hands on her old jeans, “Sorry for inconveniencing you, I don’t know what got to me – you can go-“

“I’ll help you wash those.” Jungkook goes to her side before she can make another attempt to dismiss him.

Silence ensues but the sound of clothes crumpling and the foamy sound of the soap makes it somehow not quiet. The smudge on the fabric the man is holding won’t come off no matter how hard he tries.

“You do know you’re washing with hard water right?” Jungkook looks at her, hands already still by her side.

“What do you mean?” She turns to him, eyes already resembling tower high wall he knows he cannot break.

“Your clothes won’t come clean- the hard water will make the scum-“

“It’s fine, I didn’t ask for you to stay-“

Jungkook pulls her hands away from the soap, fingers shaky as he tries to keep her from looking away from him. “Why- why don’t you just come to the laundromat and do what you do like always? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I can’t face you.”

“What?”

“I really don’t know- I don’t wanna talk about this anymore-“

“Remember that day you asked me if I make blueprints for a company?”

His question makes her furrow her brows, eyes trying to get to his intentions. “Whe-where are you getting at?” Now they’re on the same page.

“I want to be honest with you, and I’m gonna tell you yes, I made blueprints for a company before.” And then he tells her the tale of a brave naïve boy who’s ambitious and thought the city was for him, an attainable paradise for anyone who wishes for more, more, and more. After graduating with high honors, he got easily accepted in one of the prestigious companies, CAE Systems, an engineering firm with skyrocketing gross income. But it will always be inevitable in every big and small organization to have a virus caused by one’s own greed and power and he learned that in his second year of working at that goddamned company.

“It was astounding what ends people could reach just to get what they want,” her hands still in his, he keeps his stare on her, a stranger in his eyes but felt like home when he felt the squeeze on his hands. He engulfs her in his embrace before he could feel himself shatter in front of her.

He learned what fraud was having dealt with projects guided by questionable demands from his superior; he learned what embezzlement was when he got close enough to the higher ups to know the appalling numbers on the management director’s bank account. Growing up in a home surrounded by warmth guided by straight morals, he thought he needed to straighten up the strings of a city as stone cold as ice bergs with moral compasses only pointed towards money and power. He idly thought he can end it.

“I was the reason the company was put into shambles, and it was both my pride and greatest curse.”

Backed up with an ambitious reporter, he felt like a hero when he handed him every bit of evidence he could get his hands on. The media feasted on CAE Systems, charges were made, and not before long the company was shut down. Jungkook felt he has never done anything in his life as good as this. He only realized he was no hero when he was told no company will ever accept a whistleblower. It was already late for him to learn that no one recognizes good in a place where good is conditional. Resumes were ignored and unpaid bills started to pile up when it finally sunk in he was in a hideous concrete jungle and he was a lion cub who dared to pounce on a cruel hunter.

“It was difficult to experience rejection upon rejection, but what’s worse was when I started to doubt the morals I upheld, when my mind thought it misplaced good for bad – it made me miserable and I thought I was going crazy.” He felt tears slide down his cheeks and he cried harder when Sarang wiped them away. “But that’s o-okay, I learned to not blame myself anymore and I started to become happy again here.”

“I- I don’t know what to-to say Jungkook, I’m really bad at comforting others; I-I don’t even know why you’re telling me this.”

“You’re already comforting me enough,” he pulls away, “I’ve been anticipating a new year would come and you helped me finally see one, feel those sparks I always longed to feel. I’ve seen you let out your fears to me and I want to not hide anything from you anymore - I really don’t know what we are anymore but that kiss really-“

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“What? Sa-Sarang, listen to me. I don’t know if this is lo-love but this is what I-I feel-

“I don’t believe in love, Jungkook.”

“What? N-no-“

“You should go, Jungkook.”

Jungkook heads home with a broken heart and a broken gaze and he opens the Bacardi rum he locked away in his dad’s liquor cabinet one year ago to stop his alcoholic tendencies. Liquor burns down his throat after he downs his first shot; he finds it useless to smother the pain that’s constricting his throat, filling his lungs with bitter thoughts that he never even had a chance to see his love bloom. It’s cruel he thinks, second shot already making its way down the hollows of his body, to feel this way and not be able to stop what he’s feeling. He thought he’ll never feel anything as abominable as the nothingness and frenzy of thoughts that cursed him for two years, but this - this is harder to accept because he became naïve again.

He wished he should have stopped being greedy, wanting things to advance when the girl he adores probably never even wanted to be by his side at all. Adults never give anything unconditional anyway – balance must be observed for the order of an ironically unfair world - maybe children do, that’s why he did what he did. On the side he wished he should have stayed longer and stood his ground when she drove him out of her house, out of her life more directly. Maybe he should have seen her weakening resolve, her eyes probably pleading for him to stay against her fears caused by self-indicted obstacles. But most of all, he wished he should have seen the signs before – Jimin’s speculations, Sarang’s sparsely decorated home, her unusual lifestyle, and the concerning amount of clothes she kept on washing and washing until they fade when he never even saw her wear them at least once.

Twelve shots downed, Jungkook feels maybe his mistake was not knowing enough of her, maybe if he did, he could have stopped himself from falling when she can’t even hold onto his broken pieces he trusted into her. With his room hazy around him, he grabs his phone and dials the number of the police station where a friend worked at.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jungkook manages to not drawl on the phone, “Are you on duty now?”

“Yeah, Kook, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asks; his tone must have convinced the other he’s completely sober.

“Can you – uh – Can you look up ‘Kim Sarang’ from your records there?”

“Hmm… are you sure she’s from Gwangju? No name like that is listed here.”

“Uh- no- no, nevermind. Sorry for disturbing you.”

The line goes dead along with the leftovers of the New Year he had. It was beautiful when it lasted.

“You don’t look like you’re getting married Jin, at all,” Jung Hoseok starts, mischief in eyes as they walk down to a restaurant Min Yoongi booked. “You look like you’re getting your first lay around here.” Hoseok isn’t completely wrong when they receive a few lingering glances of other people. They can blame it to their model friend for his Adonis-like looks.

“Uhh, you do know that’s the purpose of a bachelor party right?” Kim Namjoon pipes in. “To celebrate the last days of single-ness if you are not informed, officer Hoseok.”

“Hey, I’m not on duty now!”

“But the badge hanging on your belt-loops says otherwise,” groom-to-be Seokjin says before Taehyung hooks him under the elbow and hops away, “We have to walk faster if we wanna go to other places you slowpokes!”

It was the 16th of July, peak temperature of summer at a raging 24 degrees Celsius but Jungkook didn’t mind since he had Jimin to fill in the silence for two hours as they travel from Busan to Seoul for the bachelor party organized by Gwangju officer Jung Hoseok and photographer Min Yoongi for their eldest friend, Kim Seokjin. He shouldn’t have put on his hoodie over his white tee but Jungkook reasons he cannot feel anything that summer inflicts.

Jungkook sips his water as he smiles along the ruckus made by his friends yet he can’t make his smile wider than he wanted to. Not when the first girl he ever adored did not show up in the laundromat for the rest of the weeks; not when he never saw her face around the neighborhood again even though Jimin informs him “I haven’t heard about anyone moving out yet so for sure she’s still here.” He suddenly hears the loud guffaw Hoseok makes when Jimin nudges his elbow.

“You alright, Kook?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook wishes.

Jimin looks around before leaning towards him. “Don’t think about her for now, let’s enjoy ourselves for Seokjin. Let loose, just for now.”

The past two hours whizzes by with laughter and stories of Seokjin’s scarce dating life before Hana, of Yoongi’s proposal to his long term girlfriend signaling another wedding to be anticipated, Hoseok’s recent promotion, Namjoon’s prospering business, and Taehyung’s everyday mishaps as a veterinarian. Jimin talks about Minyoung and the probability of them moving in before he pops the big question of marriage and Jungkook just tells them everyday is still the same in the shop though he finally got over the CAE incident and he sees his friends’ smiles become wider. After their hearty dinner, they pranced to the nearest arcade where Jungkook loses himself in the fun playing basketball and claw machines, especially when he crushed all of his friends in Dance Dance Revolution.

The night was getting deeper when Hoseok leads them to a bar he booked to have some alcohol to tone down the liveliness buzzing in their veins. It’s the last part of the bachelor party they planned so “Seokjin can waste himself for the last time with no regrets,” as the police officer said.

When they entered the bar with neon signs that spelled “St. Jude’s,” does Yoongi take a double take.

“Hoseok, you booked this bar? I told you to book a decent bar, not filled with strippers!”

“Shit, I booked Anne Marie’s wait-“

“Why did you lead us to St. Jude’s for God’s sake where is Anne Marie’s?”

“I did not see the sign sorry! Anne Marie’s-“

Jungkook can barely hear what they are talking about when he felt his eyes adjusting to the strobe lights and the pounding bass of the bar. However all of that stops when a slow song starts to play and a spotlight is centered to a girl on the stage wearing nothing but a pair of scarlet high heels.

Even if she changed her hair color, Jungkook won’t forget her hazel eyes and the soft curve of her thin lips.

“Jungkook, we’re going, what are you-“

Jungkook stands frozen as Sarang sways to the song, her hands gracefully reaching for the pole before she swings herself off the ground, pale naked body gliding on the metal pole before Jungkook quickly averts his gaze to the left side of the bar with the signboard “Final show: Eve!”. The audience on the tables starts to clap and howl like hyenas; he could already see some man go to what he assumes the manager and mouth “one lap dance” before motioning towards Eve. Jungkook feels nauseous. This is too much.

“Hyung I’m not gonna leave”

“Jungkook what-“ Before Taehyung could grab the hem of his hoodie, Jungkook runs up to the stage and grabs Sarang by the wrist. He could already feel Sarang trying to free herself from him but Jungkook only tightens his hold as he maneuvers around the people. Somebody is already shouting behind them and Jungkook fastens his pace as his eyes finally land on the fire exit sign. He pushes the door open into an alleyway and immediately takes off his hoodie, slips it on Sarang’s shivering body and then he’s grabbing her by the wrist again and hails a taxi, pushing Sarang inside before he gets in and tells the driver to get them anywhere away from the bar

Sarang refused to look at him, fixating her gaze on the window of the vehicle watching the city whizz by. Jungkook falls into silence, only watches the reflection of the mascara tears ruin her cheeks as sobs seize her body. He guessed he wasn’t wrong at all with the drastic 120 and 60 split of their supplementary lines. He was just entirely wrong to think her minimal hours in his life was acute when the entirety of her life was an entire obscurity for him. Jungkook looks away, not knowing what to say as the taxi speeds away in the blur of the hideous city.

Sarang remained silent as Jungkook stopped the taxi in front of some hotel until the moment the man let her inside a room he checked with an amount he can afford.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” she seethed, her voice sounding so hard and unfeeling.

“I don’t need you to explain or what I just want you to stay with me-“

“Bullshit, Jungkook! BULLSHIT!” She suddenly fumbles with his hoodie, hands immediately taking the clothing off of her. “I know men like you,” she spits, “All you want is fun, right? Well here it is!” she exclaims, grabbing his hand to place on her shoulders, “Touch me, savor the moment after the scene you caused earlier, you can have all of me right here, right now!”

Jungkook stoops down to pick his hoodie up to give it back to her. “Put this back on.”

Sarang slaps his hand off, dropping the fabric to the floor. “What are you doing?! Now’s your chance, get on with it! Or are you that type who wants me to strip first before you do your thing,” she leans toward him again, her face contorted in a twisted scowl. “Do you want me to bend over too, sir?”

“Is that what you really think of me, Sarang?” He keeps his gaze at her, the tears on his clouding his vision not enough to deter him. “Or should I call you something else since that name is probably forged?”

He knows he finally broke down the crumbling walls she kept holding when Sarang wails as she hugs herself, cries rocking her figure as she kept mumbling “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Her apologies and hoarse cries filled the midnight in a distorted lullaby Jungkook felt long ago but never knew enough as he shifts in the couch, limbs numb. He stares across the girl on the bed, her back facing him, but it doesn’t hinder him from hearing her soft voice breaking the silence.

“Why- Why did you do what you did earlier?”

“I don’t know- I tend to follow my feelings first before thinking about the consequences.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this-“

“I love you”

“No, you don’t get to say that! It’s so unfair, you don’t-”

“Why?” Jungkook finds himself sitting up. “Why? Tell me why is it unfair because for the past weeks I’ve done nothing but reach out to you, give you my heart only to be shut down so many times and I still don’t know why I’m even trying. So tell me, why is this unfair.”

“You scare me, Jungkook. You scare me with the things you make me feel.” Her voice is barely above a whisper but he still hears it anyway.

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up with a heavy heart and a yellow paper with his name replacing the spot where Sarang laid.

He stands up, stuffs the paper addressed to him in his jeans pocket and sends his apologies to his friends immediately, especially to Seokjin. He leaves the hotel, leaves the city with the letter unread as he takes the earliest train back to Busan.

“July 16, 2012

Jungkook,

I’m sorry for all the things I have done, for all the things I’m about to do. I liked your stories, I do. They remind me of the warm town I was born in. But it also filled me with remorse.

You must have wondered at first why I do laundries abnormally frequent. I always wanted to wash away the dirt I’ve always felt. I grew up in a money hungry city which has never been touched by anything akin to love. I understood why at the age of 16 when I decided to let myself fall for someone as foolish as me. We left town and he led me to the city and introduced me to the land of dreams, of success, of everything men has ever wanted. But then I realized not everything is perfect; beauty blinds up the things we needed to see and he was the perfect example. He was lovely at first, until he started painting the mandelas I do on papers onto my skin. I never thought this same love will bring me my humiliation when he made a business out of me, my utter damnation when I realized there was no other way back.

I always got used to what the outcomes will be, the aftermaths of the things I have done. And then you came and I suddenly felt I was back to my youth again with nothing to worry, nothing to feel ashamed about. I started having dreams again. But I know this side of paradise will only crumble because I knew I have never been welcome to experience heaven as a luxury. So I never came back to your shop again these last weeks. I tried to wash my sweaters, the things I loved wearing whenever I’m with you. No matter how I tried to cut off everything related to you, I know I can never erase your scent from them; I can never erase you from the back of my mind.

I know my explanations are delayed and they may sound like excuses. I’m never fond of confronting you yet because I know I’ll only cry. Even if I’m a whore who probably knows the taste of every man who roamed this city, you’re the only one I kissed with my lips. I don’t know if this is love yet, and the mere thought of it scares me but when I saw you wanted to stay by my side even after all my dirt and grime must have repulsed you, I wanted to be selfish, I want to stay by your side too.

I left a lot of loose ties when I moved to Busan; I can't let these nightmares from here to the town. I need to sort them out first and I need to fix myself, too. I don’t know if you’ll wait for me, but I naively hope so. If you didn’t know yet, I slipped you letters on the pot beside your bicycle rack when I came from my work here. Even if you don’t believe them I hope you’ll read them. They’re the only things I’ve ever been completely honest about.

My real name is Kim Sarang, and meeting you was surely a blessing.”

Jungkook flips to the next letters.

“July 13, 2012

Jungkook,

I don’t think I’m even allowed to say I miss you after shutting you out and suddenly disappearing but your face is what I can only think about these days. I can't even write ‘dear’ to address you not after the things I have done. You make me feel things I don’t even deserve in the first place. I’m sorry, I really am. I thought about moving out because maybe you’ll never want to see me again but I’m sorry I can’t bring myself to actually do it. I can’t.

I’m frequently in Seoul now; I need to pay my debts as soon as I can, he already went to my home and I can't have him anywhere near you. My method might repulse you but I have no other way left. After I’m done, I’m cutting myself from this life for good. I’ll tell you the whole truth when I got back and finally fixed myself.

P.S. I finally understood what doing laundry with hard water does to your clothes. It ruins them and makes the dirt stick on the fabric. I’m washing with soft water now. Hope this lightens up the mood of my horible life.

- Sarang”

“June 14, 2012

Dear Jungkook,

The watercolors are fantastic! They were so so pigmented and I've never seen such brush shapes and sizes! It's summer and I can't believe it felt like it's my first Christmas. The last time I had Christmas was when I was 14.

I think my thank you's are not enough to let you feel my gratitude.

-Sarang"

"June 2, 2012

Dear Jungkook,

I'm not an accountant. I've never even been in college. My mother was an accountant and I used to help her when I was young that's why I know some things. I've made decisions I will always regret that I can't even ask why my life turned out to be like this. I work in St. Jude's every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and it was horrible, disgusting, and pathetic. I abhor how it's name perfectly suits a filth like me, a very impossible cause. I feel more miserable when I can't even tell you that personally after all your honesty. I don't want to witness the repulsion that will cross your face. But I don't know what to do; I've got no diplomas that can enable me to have a respectable work and I've got huge debts I have to pay just so I can have at least a fraction of a normal life here in Busan. They say the past will always catch up to you and it's fucking true

I actually planned to end everything yesterday night. And then I remembered you and I know I can't just go without having one last moment with you. I never imagined that night would be a miracle. You told me I can find my dream and it was the nicest thing I've ever heard; after years of begging for someone to say 'everything is gonna be alright' even though it's not, I finally heard it. It's enough for me. I'll keep on living and I promise you, someday I'll tell you everything.

-Sarang"

Jungkook unfolds more and more papers, and he finds numerous post it notes and her watercolor drawings. There's a painting of his silhuoette by his desk.

"I always think you have a nice side profile."

He flips to the next and it's the replica of the interior of Jeon's Laundromat all in pastel with two silhouettes sitting in front of washing machine number - him and her.

"I'm sorry I always stay long here. Chatting with you here felt the closest to home."

But what makes him still is the last drawing in his hand. It's a portrait of him smiling, his eyes twinkling, and he looks so happy.

"You told me I had to color my life and I decided I'll do a portrait of someone and the first face that came to my mind was yours."

Summer melted and the crisp chilliness of autumn settled in when September peeked in but the chilliness was not enough to cool down the hyped conversation on the phone.

"Really?! Wow! Congratulations on the news Seokjin hyung!" Jimin turns to Jungkook, "Hana is pregnant!"

The younger grabs the phone. "Hyung, don't stress out Hana too much and I hope she's gonna be a girl so you get to beat the guys that will come close to her." Jungkook laughs, "I wanna see those long limbs put into use."

Jimin gets the phone back and updates Seokjin that Minyoung moved in with him recently, and Jungkook could hear the man's windwiper laugh from the other line.

The call ends with Seokjin telling them Yoongi's wedding will be on December and that he, Jimin, and Namjoon will be the ones in charge of the bachellor party.

When the call ended, Jungkook turns to Jimin while turning the stem of the Daffodil he was holding between his fingers. "Junghyun's gonna visit next week."

"Really? I'm gonna call Taehyung then so we can all hangout. He's on a break anyway for whatever reason he convinced his superiors."

"I'm not even surprised he can do that. Anyway he can finally have the drawing lessons he wants so bad," Jungkook snorts, "He said my skills are already rusty and I'm a bad teacher."

Before Jungkook leaves the shop, Jimin's voice stops him, "Still waiting for her?"

Jungkook's hold on the yellow bloom was firm. "Yes," He says and he exits the flower shop with a smile before he crosses the street and opens his laundromat.

Jungkook looks out from his glass door and watch the waking town in the early morning haze. Mrs. Taehee Jung is folding her laundry above Jimin’s flowershop. Convenient stores have now opened and Old Sangmin’s bakery is already filled with people. Kim’s Italian Restaurant is about to open like the usual. He waves to Mrs. Eunhui and towards Mr. Changmin Park who passes by. Everything is still the same, he sighs as he looks at the daffodils starting to bloom in the small potted garden he made with the help of Jimin and his chest warms at the sight.

He wakes up from his trance when Mrs. Eunji Song pulls the door open. He welcomes her in.

"It’s my first time seeing them," she points out.

Jungkook follows her line of sight and his eyes lands on the watercolor paintings gracing the walls of his once barren pale blue walls.

Jungkook replies, "Ah, I got them framed last week. I only got them today, Mrs. Song"

"It's a painting of your shop, and wait - is that you?"

Jungkook nods with a smile.

"The colors are wonderful, very lively, an exact replica of you these days" she looks back at him, amused and impressed. "See? It looks so the same! Who's the artist?"

Jungkook's smile stretches wider. "Kim Sarang."

The people around this Monday morning was sparse which allowed Jungkook to sketch the outlines of the shops thay line across his laundromat. His disposition was undisturbed until it was nine o'clock and the wind chimes resounded around the rather empty laundromat.

"Welcome-“

"Hi, Jungkook."

In the middle of autumn, it felt like spring again. Even if he has never seen her for so long, he'll recognize her warm hazel eyes and the timid curve of her lips. With cherry red sweater, blue cropped jeans and a her raven hair in a bob cut, Sarang looks at the artworks on the wall, her own paintings displayed with her name printed in small fonts on the paper.

She looks back at him, eyes glazed and her mouth agape.

Jungkook feels his heart thundering against his ribcage. "Yes, I waited for you." And even if she needs a year, he knows he will still wait.

Sarang leaves her sketchpad and her watercolor set he bought for her on the bench as she sped her way to him. Jungkook already stretches his limbs, welcoming her back in his arms, back in her home. Jungkook tightens his hold on her as he felt her tears wet his cardigan, strings of gratitude filling the rhythm of Jungkook's swaying.

"I've done a lot of thinking - and I know I've got better things to tell you, she mutters, "but the first thing I want to tell you is that I finally know what my dream is."

"What is it?"

"My dream," she looks up and Jungkook finds himself reflected in her eyes, "was to know how to love again, to feel new beginnings," and then he tastes them on the softness against his lips, the sweetness of youth and euphoric feeling of happiness. She moves against him with ardor, sparks flying and colors bursting behind closed eyes as Jungkook basks in the thrill and adrenaline of finally having everything back in his life. Sarang looks at him, with eyes reflecting him and him only as she says against his lips, "And I finally got them."

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neko-shinigxmi · 6 years

Text

So I’m thinking about Borderlands again... Listening to music used in Borderlands... So I thought, why not go for it again? Explain my SI in one, comprehensive post, make another tag-series out of it (to go with my BnHA Edition one), and make it easier on us all, huh?

So here we go! Borderlands, the Self-Insert Edition! Featuring my SI, Rena “Gremlin” Marlow...and co.

Rena Marlow, a daughter of a brilliant scientist of their galaxy and a mother known- if lesser- by her photography of various planets and stars.

Brown hair parted down the middle with strands of brown hair that fall next to her face, in later years; in childhood, she just has fringe. Dark green eyes and wears glasses.

A happy, oblivious kid growing up. Liked to believe in fairytales, love at first sight, superstitions... A whole bunch of things. Very imaginative, in that sense.

Idolized her father. People seemed to adore him and knew him wherever he went. He spent long hours in his lab, making Rena daydream of all the cool things he was inventing back there. She was never allowed back there, usually, so she stuck to waiting around and staring at his lab door.

Eventually, he did invite her in, one day. Wanted help. The idea was so cool! Helping her dad with a project?! Wow!!! What cool thing would she get to work with?

...It wasn’t at all as pleasant as she’d hoped.

What he needed help with is all she’d ever know as “The Machine”. A smooth, pure white, helmet-looking contraption with lots of cords going into it, during the early days of her father hammering out the details of it.

It hurt then, too. Not being fully worked out, it tended to shock her a lot. Strapped down to a chair, she couldn’t go anywhere... Her father would carry her back to her room and- at some point- the process would begin again.

Carried on for a few months until it didn’t hurt anymore; it started...teaching her things. Suddenly, she knew all about oceanic life and could speak of it at a college level. Write her own studies on plant life. Her father was proud of her, The Machine didn’t hurt anymore, and even her often space-case mother praised her. It felt...amazing!!

Eventually the testing stopped, though. Her father brought in a guy to help and Rena was growing up, as the years passed.

In about junior high, she met a guy. Absolutely starstruck by him and settled on them being “soulmates” within a month or two... Not that it was just her saying this, mind you; her boyfriend certainly encouraged it.

Her friends were cautious, but supportive. Be chill, girl. Still a lot more in life, you know? Besides, considering who her dad is...?

Rena didn’t pay it much heed. Instead, more plans for the future! More dreams and secrets and quiet moments...

Well, until another few years later. Wandering the town at night, heading home...and spying that- just down the street- her supposed “boyfriend” was being sweet to some other girl, said he loved her, and kissed her.

It destroyed her. Her home life had never been stellar and she’d been hoping that with him...she’d be able to get out. They’d be a “happily ever after”.....

Rena instead decided to run away. That night. Get as far away from here as possible. Pack her bags, slip as much money and a little more as seemed necessary...and as a final knife to the back, steal The Machine.

It’s no secret it’s been killing other people, anyways. They can’t handle their minds being fed so much information, so it tends to backfire and rapidly destroy their mind... Rena’s never had that issue, though. Likely for growing with it as it evolved...so hers now.

Books it off-planet that night and goes as far as she dares within the next solar cycle or two.

Stays on another planet for a few months. Fakes an ID and goes to a local college... Who calls her out for being a daughter of Dr. Marlow anyways and practically sweeps her in with excitement.

Ends up acing everything far too easily, thanks to The Machine. But it all gives her a good starting point into the world ahead and a fancy piece of paper that basically says, “congrats, you understand what a Science is.”

At this point, understands: biological science (biology, zoology, oceanology), botany, geology, chemistry, ecology, and physics. And she’s just getting started!!!

Keeps running once more ‘til the funds are running low...and that’s when she finds Hyperion.

Initially joins under Tassiter, still recruiting people for Hyperion. He’s...doubtful of her true age, but accepts upon seeing what she can do when he allows her a trial run of things he wants to see done. Fast and experienced despite her face, he lets her join.

Enters R&D from that point on, at first as an on-hand assistant...before rising up to earn her own private lab and assisting with bigger and better projects. Rena proves herself worthy of it, and Hyperion bends a little to allow her, when possible.

It’s around this time, as they move into Helios and continue to set up, that an old crew hunts down Rena. They force her to accept their black-market deals or they report her back to her father... After all, they work for him, too, but are always lookin’ to cut a deal with the better side. Rena gives in.

The events of the Pre-Sequel go down. Rena largely keeps herself locked inside her dark laboratory, hiding away in one of her cabinets. It’s a terrifying, defining moment for her...and one that also helps survive the inevitable Jack takeover.

Honestly, that goes over like day to night for her. One minute, it’s still a “Tassiter” owned company, then before she knows it, Helios is complete and “Handsome Jack” owns the place. Well, okay then. Let her have her coffee as usual, oh Jack sir, and we’re all good.

Honestly, barely leaves her lab. Too much work going on. If not a Hyperion-issued project, then one of her own designs. She’s got a lot of room to work with and she’s gonna make the best of it, dammit!

Still manages to make a friend or two; meets Leah around this time. A very cheerful young woman who’s somehow dug ABBA out of their grave and is fond of “Dancing Queen.” Helps Rena keep in touch with her “feminine side” not that she sees much point to it...

They hang out a bit, anyways. It’s the only time Rena is guaranteed to sleep. Especially in a proper bed.

(Doesn’t sleep in the employee-issued rooms. Gives her paranoia of being alone; she’d rather be close to her work than stuck in a near-permanent panic attack.)

Her first pet project? Lizards. With a whole process of breaking down other key DNA sequences from other species. Why? Lizards....into dragons.

Silverstreak is her “main” partner. Silver dragon, with blue eyes. Incredibly bossy and sassy to the others; easy to assume their leadership position.

Other dragons include:

Apophis: Big male dragon, slightly bigger than Silver. Purple and gold scales, with four eyes total. An absolute jerk who tries to harass Silver, but they have none of it. Would kill a family for a cornchip, probably. And he doesn’t even like them!!

Dymri: Forest green dragon, with brown horns and a streak of fur down his back, with tufts on the bend of his forelegs and hind legs. Is now missing his left wing, due to Apophis ripping it nearly entirely off. (It ended up being amputated.)

Munda: Dymri’s mate. Ended up sprouting a lot more fur than he did, but in a more unusual color: green. Looks like a dappled forest with blue eyes and an attitude.

Poseidon: Blue, serpent dragon. Fairly big, though not as much as Apophis. Likes hanging out in water... That with his scale color, thus, the name.

Firestorm: A red, wyvern dragon. No arms, just wings, only hind legs. Red scales with bright green eyes. Truly a charmer.

Smokey: Firestorm’s mate. Dark scales that give off a black-grey color, which inspired her name. Red eyes. Has a tuft of fur at the end of her tail.

Sugar: Another female dragon named for her brown and cream-colored scales. Also a wyvern, with her hand-wings. Very sweet and friendly to anyone she meets. Small streaks of feathers from head to her tail.

Little Angel: One of the G2 dragons, along with three others of her nest. Has a broken horn on her right side. Black and white-splotched scales. A little trooper and totally not named after a certain siren...

.....Along with many more who are still unnamed to this date. From the first set (G1s) to the babies some pairs have had (G2s).

Cue the events of Borderlands, as Rena continues to raise dragons and serve Hyperion. Depending on who-what-where, this may be where some romances start their growth...but we’ll get to that later.

People continue to bother her. A nickname surfaces... “Gremlin.” Because she’s pretty short (at 5′2″ without her trademark heels), tends to be more active when most people would feel the need to sleep, and creeps around with a hunched back, more often than not. Truly, a gremlin among them.

Nothing really happens in this time period up ‘til BLands 2, in which Rena decides to perfectly time a trip to Pandora with a small group of scientists. Nobody’s really gotten personal with studying the Pandoran landscape, have they? So... Guess Rena will do it, then!

Only to find out why nobody has ever done that; raiders and bandits. Infiltrating the camp barely a week in.

Everyone is murdered. Rena escapes with the briefcase that holds The Machine, but is otherwise alone and stuck on Pandora.

Ends up trying to blend in, after a few weeks. There’s only so much an intelligent woman could do here...but how about one who acts like your typical psycho? Worth the shot, at least.

Slowly, the good scientist slips away into a woman masquerading madness while seeping into it, at the same time.

Pops is one of her first friends on Pandora. Someone she trusts...and a father figure to her. He’s a big man who knows hacking and coding, so she learns a bunch from him. They build robots together! It’s awesome.

From there, she gets introduced to this eye-guy waaaaaaayyyyy across the way over a call from Pops to that other guy. Rena ends up making him “Fly Boy” to do deliveries without leaving home.

Said guy looks out for Rena now, getting her new glasses whenever she breaks hers.

Made a few other bots in her time. One that only screamed “fuck” at the top of their lil’ volume, a fixed Claptrap unit with no sense of direction, and a bot named Sparky. But bandits destroyed him a few days into life. RIP, Sparky....

That nickname Helios gave her? Gremlin? Others call her that, now. All know of Gremlin!! ....Well, not all, but a lot.

Including Pyrotech and Meowzer. They run a small gang of bandits and are probably dating...? Gremlin still doesn’t know, either way, but she survived meeting them, so that’s cool.

Met another person who calls himself Scabbs. Largely because he’s got CIP (can’t feel pain; a marvel that he’s still alive when Pandora is your home planet) and so has a fair amount of scars and scratches... Ever since meeting up with Rena, she’s essentially adopted him and makes sure he’s got no life-threatening injuries.

Which is lowkey hilarious, considering Scabbs has made it 17 years without dying, so he’s not exactly in need of a parent, but... He likes Rena, so it’s cool.

Stocks up on weapons, clothes, and masks. All looted from dead bodies and washed up a little. Rena herself as taken to wearing a black tank top, torn up into a crop-top look, a Marauder jacket, and altered, brown pants. Has boots for shoes. Where she got ‘em, nobody knows.

Is stuck on Pandora all the way ‘til Tales... In which she tends to join up in an attempt to get back to Helios and get all of her shit back.

With that covering the basics... Let’s get down to the AUs, then the shipping verses after that, ey...?

AU 1- AI Rena: There’s two verses for this AU. (As long as this post already is.)

Verse 1: Rena owns the Wildlife Exploration Preserve shortly before the events of Tales. However, she didn’t realize one of her pet projects wasn’t bonding to her properly. While going in for feeding and check-ups, the beast killed her and activated a failsafe that resulted in an AI version of herself being activated.

Rhys, having no concept of safety, jabs a port into his head to try and get information on more pieces for Gortys. Just like a time before with Nakayama, Rhys instead downloads a whole ‘nother AI into his noggin.

Now he’s got an Asshole and a Know-It-All Scientist taking root in his skull. The good news is Rena is much nicer to him than HJack is. The bad news is the two bicker a lot because of it.

Where Jack is blue with yellow eyes, Rena is a green holo with- at first- light, green-yellow eyes. Over time, her eyes shift to yellow, however. Nobody is sure why, but Rhys and Rena agree to blame Jack for it. (Who is proud at her matching him, but less thrilled to be blamed for something he didn’t do... Intentionally.)

Lots of Rena snarking Jack. He can touch her, being another hologram like he is, but he can’t hurt her. Turns out her processing power comes from The Machine itself, so she can easily overpower his cruddy design from Nakayama.

Has a side path where she can enter a basic, non-perfect android body to reboot the systems at the Preserve, but later needs to transfer in another, more humanlike model to function better.

....HJack is not pleased with her upgrades, considering she’s getting the better end of the deal than he’s got. Rhys isn’t impressed with that tone, either. >:/

Verse 2: The Machine takes it’s toll on Rena. Her mind could better withstand it’s power, having being an unwilling subject in the early days of it’s development, but... Even her mind can’t keep this up forever.

It starts with forgetting her name. Won’t answer to Rena, but Gremlin works.

Forgetting her nickname.

Slowly, everything she’s ever learned starts going away. Bit by bit, losing what memories The Machine gave her. Rage sets in around here, recognizing her memory is no longer perfect and putting her into a panic of self-awareness.

Memories of people slip away now. Often cries for her ex or where her parents are.

Eventually is confined to bed, where her brain is failing to the point it can’t remember to continue to make the organs function. It’s around this point that she finally dies.

Her personality and memories were embedded into The Machine; her final goodbyes to friends and loved ones. Her AI keeps people from using it after her and requests that it be destroyed soon.

Just like in the first verse, her eyes start out a yellow-green. Then a yellow... If not destroyed, AI Rena’s eyes will sometimes flicker to red, showing how deeply the corruption has started effecting her.

Either way, The Machine will be unusable. Just as how Rena believed it should’ve been.

Siren AU: An AU in which Rena was instead born a Siren. She sports green tattoos on her right side and often made them glow when she was younger, for her amusement and not understanding who she was...or her powers.

Not that her parents helped any. Her mother was just completely confused and arguments over what to do with her were had a lot. Rena’s mother wanted to get her checked out at a hospital. Her father believed she truly was a Siren and wanted to experiment on her.

The arguments eventually drove Rena away and- living on Elpis at the time- Rena began the first dip into her powers: summoning her Siren wings (in a light green tinge) and flying away...off Elpis! Taking a trip to Pandora in order to hide from her fighting parents.

Phasecommand- Her main Siren ability. When executing, her eyes roll back and it summons Pandoran beasts/animals to her side to control and fight her enemies. However, any creatures that don’t disperse afterwards can be considered enemies to her allies or her, if she accidentally hurts one.

When using Eridium, her tattoos will change into more of a teal color and glow more.

Likes the idea of people, but prefers the animals and Guardians. People are too much for her to handle...

Somehow still summoned little dragons...? Is only ever seen with ones the size of cats or lizards, but it’s presumed that- like her main verse- they’ll one day mutate to full, dragon-of-legend glorious sizing.

Dragon AU: In one of two paths, with either Rena being one of the dragons of Eridian times OR having accidentally turned into one of her own dragons.

Either way, her dragon form typically looks a little something like this.

The first verse has her being more curious and prone to friendliness...but ready to snap if she senses ill intent. Still, tries to be optimistic, at least. Rests within a cave near one of the vaults.

About the size of a two-story home, if not a little bigger.

Rena speaks Eridian, but has the capacity to learn present day English, if given the time to learn.

The runes on her body allow her to safely use Eridium. By using it, her systems can filter it properly into a variety of uses, from specialized fire to shape-shifting!!

Verse two is just...Rena being done with this bullshit. All these years of science, for what? To be stuck as a dragon?!? The only useful thing that comes of this is not only does she now understand the world through a dragon’s eyes, but their language, as well.

Turns out, the language of the dragons is actually original Eridian and not whatever mumbo-jumbo you hear most present day speakers go for. It’s an interesting bit to learn, however it’s debatable if the cost was worth it.

(Will eventually return to normal with an understanding of Eridian, but I like just putting my SIs through nonsense, too.)

otp; Science and Violence (Rena/Jack): As literally pulled out of the RP @punk-opossum and I did a few months ago!! Cause I basically consider that “canon” for this ship, now. (Okay, with a few bits I’ve added in, but LARGELY pulled from our RP.)

They’ve been around each other since the beginning, really. Rena oblivious and never noticing Jack, but he’s seen her around. Quiet, nerdy gal who bothers nobody and does her job. Is kinda cool, but no other opinions.

Then, we truck over to the events during Borderlands 2...and things get tossed around like pizza dough. [Note: Nisha and Angel are dead at this point.]

Starting with Jack bothering her workspace. Shooting her head of department and declaring her in charge of Literally Everything R&D now. Rena is just trying to fucking work, ohhhh my god.

Not only that, but Jack casually shoves the Destroyer project from Nakayama right into her hands, as well. Rena has never been more overwhelmed in her life....!

And that’s BEFORE all of the innuendos and Jack’s husky voice getting way too close to her ears!!

...So yeah, it definitely starts as what should’ve been a fling, but attachments get all sorts of muddled. Rena’s the sort of balance Jack finds himself craving and, well... He’s fucked, but giving her the little things she thought she lost when her ex cheated on her. So maybe...it’s okay?

Lots of Jack being thirsty while Rena’s trying to work. Or him being clingy when she wants to go back to work... Far as Jack’s concerned, his job is full of free time and is so boring without her around. However, Rena can actually prioritize her work and keep this company’s science division flowing, soooo.... Hmm.

Rena has the struggle of a lifetime, but she still ends up getting her trip to Pandora to do on-planet research...much to Jack’s paranoia and displeasure. (Which ends up being right on the money, despite his best efforts.)

Can’t believe Rena would be dead. They can’t find her body either, so like... Far as Jack’s concerned, she isn’t dead. Doesn’t mean he’s any more pleased or sane about the whole situation, though.

Jack goes full-tilt into madness, sending people hunting through Pandora to try and find Rena. Hilariously, they’re always close, but either she just left her camp or they pass right by her hiding spot.

They don’t find each other until a few years later, when Handsome Jack himself is personally tearing a town apart on Pandora, still engulfed in his hatred for the planet and presumably taking Rena from him.

He aims his gun at a kid, but freezes. Something about her little tanned face, dark brown hair, and...hetrochromatic eyes....has him frozen in his tracks. Then her mother comes running up, their eyes meet, and Jack nearly roars in realization.

She’s dirty as hell, hair messed up and toting new scars from Pandoran life, but that’s Rena...!! Who’s... Who’s the kid, though?

He nearly has another freakout at her assurance this little girl- Carina- is his daughter?????

He’d want to not believe it, but Rena consistently swears off having messed around with anyone else. Oh, and the fact Carina happens to have eyes like her papa. (But unlike his heterochromia, hers is central; a different color surrounding the pupil.)

With this, they kicked off most of Jack’s thoughts for the Warrior, instead Jack now focusing a large chunk of time for the fact Rena’s back, not dead, and was badass enough to raise and protect a baby on Pandora. Mother of the Year award?? Y’all know who it’s going to.

Carina ends up being Jack’s lil’ princess. The only reason she’s not a spoiled brat is cause Pandora does shit to ya and also Rena knows the limits of taking care of kids; so really, she’s mothering both Carina and Jack.

THOUGH BEFORE I FORGET!!! There is a subset of this verse where also Angel is alive, didn’t have to keep being treated like she was, and- while it was a bit late- still managed to get a better mother figure. Oh, and Carina still happens later in this same verse, so her mood improves even more to have a little sister.

...Jack is totally a little salty that Rena and Angel get on so well. He’s an ass, but does love his daughter, so he’s like a sulky cat, knocking stuff over and hovering around, hoping for attention and acknowledgement.

Rena keeps Jack in line those days, so...eventually Angel and her father get on a better foot than before and he’s very okay with everything and clingy to his family.

otp; Rulers of Pandora (Jack/Rena/Nisha): In which Jack and Nisha take in one of the local Hyperion nerds to spice things up... Only to decide, “naaahh, she’s a keeper.”

Took her into their fray around the early events of Borderlands. Where things are fun, but could be more fun... You know?

Jack’s seen Rena around before, but never gave her much thought... His mind is simply too here-and-there to keep notice for long when he’s trying to pick at more shallow aspects to bring in.

Nisha catches her eye, though, and decides she’s curious when Rena immediately looks away, blushing up a storm.

Turns out, Rena can’t handle Nisha. At all. Immediately turns into a klutz around her. Nisha finds it fucking hilarious and proceeds to drag her off to show Jack...who also realizes how hilariously awkward Rena is. They’ve taken her in, since.

Primarily still spends a lot of time up on Helios, but on occasion, will go down to Pandora to spend time with Nisha once HJack gives her Lynchwood.

Is definitely the little “pet” of the trio and is mercilessly teased by them for it, but anyone else messes with Rena? You’ve now got two of the six galaxies most lethal minds on your ass. Start running.

Nisha: I don’t like cute things. I kill cute things. Rena: cooing over some baby skag bc she’s an idiot Nisha: .........For fuck’s sake--

In other words, both Nish and Jack both soften up a bit for Rena. Which is a mistake for anyone else to see, cause while they’ll let their favorite nerd frolic in a field of baby animals, they’d still sooner shoot an annoying pest.

Nisha and Rena are the only ones to know about Jack’s true face under the mask. Nisha doesn’t really care, but Rena? Loves it.

Two Murderers and the Embodiment of Sunshine. That’s how you sum them up.

otp; love like fools (Rena/Rhys): I don’t know what Imma do with this anymore, but it exists as a verse, so I’m gonna heckin’ include it.

Met around the events of BLands/BLands 2. Rena had overworked herself on a project and was hiding in a break room. Cup of orange juice in hand and staring at it. Rhys couldn’t sleep, so he came in... They had an awkward conversation, but not much else.

Curious, Rhys starts stopping by the R&D department more and starts realizing the issue: she never takes a break or seems to get much rest. Work, work, work, day and night. Isn’t that exhausting??

So Rhys takes it on himself to get her food and drink. Mostly snacks, but whatever works. He also tries to ask about her projects, but it largely goes over his head when she starts doing her usual round of science talk.

He tries, though. So that’s nice.

His crush is obvious as shit as time keeps going on. Even his friends notice. Leah notices. Rena? Does not. She is oblivious as heck. Rest in pieces, Rhys.

Literally nothing happens there. Just Rhys doing his best to get Rena’s full attention with no luck. Right up to her eventual trip-and-trap to Pandora.

They don’t meet again ‘til the events of Tales! While wandering around the landscape, Rhys bumps into “Gremlin”, realizes she looks familiar and...

Rhys: ...Are you Rena? Dr. Marlow? Gremlin: Who...? WAIT A MINUTE!!! YOU?!? Rhys: Y-YEAH!!! YOU’RE ALIVE?!?

Everyone else is confused, but Rhys and Rena proceed to catch up. Meanwhile, HJack is making comments that are making Rhys’ face pink and trying to mentally shut the AI up before he says something embarrassing to Rena.

Which basically happens anyways, cause he excuses himself to walk away, thud his head into the caravan, then walk back trying to act like nothing happened. Where were we? #Concern from Rena.

She joins the troupe for fun times, being surprisingly okay when Rhys admits that HJack’s AI is like...inside his head. Just chillin’ there. Well, when not being usual Jack, but you know.

(In some variations of this, AI Jack was programmed to know Rena, so he’s twice as insufferable as usual. However, this isn’t often the case.)

It takes Rhys forever and plenty of nagging from HJack before he even tries to smooch Rena. And even when he does, it was still a terrible idea, cause Jack wouldn’t shut up. Thankfully, Rena’s still pretty chill about the whole thing.

Fiona and Sasha warm up to Rena over time, Vaughn’s heard about her from before, so they all pal up while Rhys has a crisis over HJack ruining his romantic life. It’s a nice break from freaking out around other people, at least.

Joins them on the trip to Helios. She needs to check up on her babies... It’s been so long....

An expert at sneak, a duck around cameras and back up to the old employee living quarters... It’s amazing what a brush, hot water, and a change of clothes can do for a person. (Gotta readjust to heels again, though.)

While Rhys and Fiona are taking over Helios to get the next piece for Gortys, Rena makes her way back to her lab. Not everyone is gone, but... A lot of the G1s have passed away and even a few G2s. Silver and Apophis stay strong, but have been slowly getting bigger in Rena’s absence.

Encourage the trope into an old, cleaned out nesting box and start figuring out her escape plan from there, trying to get in contact with Rhys and Fiona. Only for an eerily familiar voice to pour out around Helios...and announce Rhys the new leader of Hyperion?!

Shit. Shit, shit, shitshit- Now what? She didn’t think Rhys was gonna be in cahoots with Jack! I mean, yeah, he idolized the guy.... Jack embarrassed him a lot, but he still seem to think it was pretty neat...... Awh, hell. Still! Gotta get outta here!!

Ends up smoothly making her escape in a ship with some of her more friendly co-workers: Dan [the Man] (a pilot who used to fly HJack’s private ship; trans, demisexual with a preference for men who is a coffee addict) and Leah.

...And then Helios crashes not too long later. Dan is...less than impressed (internally freaking out, however) and Leah is basically having a panic attack.

Rena tries giving them advice for surviving on Pandora, but Dan later finds Atlas (now being rebooted by Rhys) and decides with Leah that they’ll join up.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE, Rhys owns the place. Dan is brought on as his personal pilot (”Sweet. So, where’s the coffee machines around here?”), Leah is hired for PR, Cassie (a blonde lesbian who’s only ever done secretary jobs most of her life) joins later as his secretary...and Rena? .....Shit, Atlas doesn’t really...have an R&D department, do they...?

Rena nervously points out that- if he finds the muscle, they could retake the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve. Take over, do some rebuilding and remodeling... Make it not only into Atlas’ new R&D, but also a way for Rena to continue her penchant of creating dubious creatures. Also because the dragons are only getting bigger as their generations continue.

Pyrotech and Meowzer decide to join in, along with Pops calling in a few favors. Bandits v. bandits to clean out the place and serve as muscle while WEP is getting remodeled. (Also, they’re getting paid, so other bandits looking for a handy buck hop on for the more beneficial side.)

Rena gets a new look to symbolize her Atlas change (a black, long cloak with a hexagon pattern on the inside, black tights, black heels, and an ombre, orange-red-to-yellow, turtleneck dress; hair is also pinned up)! Power couple of Atlas, basically everyone agrees. And kind of like in another verse, Rena keeps him in line....when he’s not having to do the same for her!!

Rhys: I’m not sure....making a monstrous, three-headed dog is a good idea, babe. Rena: I didn’t come here to make wimpy science, Rhys!! I came here to kick ass, take names, and do SCIENCE! But thank you for your opinion~ Rhys: ......oh no.

6-legged to 8-legged cats are realized under Rena’s flourishing arms. A three-headed dog. The dragons prosper and return to Pandora, honoring Rena as their Mother, as Silver- and later Apophis himself!!- have done.

She even creates an android in secret. Names them Aria and they have learning software. Everything about life, they must learn on their own. Starting with the Preserve, and then one day... Leaving home to formulate their own experiences.

Later in life, Rhys and Rena have a daughter, naming her Vela. (A reference to the trio of constellations that Carina is also a part of.)

Has about as much common sense for safety as her mother does. Rhys is terrified for her safety on the daily. Because of their lack of fear, Rhys tries to keep Vela with him at Atlas HQ more than at the preserve with Rena.

otp; nerdperion (Rhys/Rena/Vaughn): ...I mentioned it once. Then the idea snowballed from the initial idea and the “what ifs”.

Look, I can’t deny it. It’s the nerd trio that most only dream of. In their Hyperion days, you had the money man, middle manager, and the top scientist.

By the time of Tales, you have a bandit leader in his own right, an Altas CEO, and woman who is held back by only her set-in-stone morals.

Vaughn and Rena going on raids out on Pandora, protecting people and the Children of Helios. Perhaps even with the dragons as backup...?

Rhys constantly has to worry for these two dorks, but that’s why he has a steady wing in Atlas for healing stuff. A fair bit of research passed on from Rena, to be fair, but still.

Vaughn takes lessons from Rena how to ride beasts. Like dragons! Was it a good idea? Not really. But nobody got hurt, at least!!! And Rena also solidified the saddle designs for them, so that’s pretty cool, too.

Rhys is a little more boring on that side of the coin in the regard he’s mostly just running a company, but still. Vaughn helps out from time to time and Rena’s running the entire R&D division of Atlas, so.....

otp; scientific haikus (Rena/Zer0): In which my first crush from Tales lives on...and it’s a rather unlikely couple, honestly.

Starting right off the bat with the fact she never really knew about them until one of her Pandoran raids? They showed up to kill some people and then just kinda...disappeared.

That first meeting bothered Gremlin for weeks. Who?? Who????

Meeting them again...and again..... Never getting the courage to confront them out of fear. (What if they slice and dice her up, too?? She’s lived too long to get struck down now...) But despite that, she eagerly daydreams about the oddity...

Also, isn’t as sly as she thinks; Zer0′s been knowing, they’ve just been waiting for Gremlin to go first. Though, she hasn’t been...so that’s a bit of an issue.

Eventually, they make sure that their next target will be in an area they know Gremlin frequents. When she shows up...Zer0 finally gets the chance to introduce themselves.

Zer0: Finally, we meet / Finding you was difficult / My name is Zer0; pleased. Gremlin: .....Did... Are you speaking in haiku?! Zer0: :) Gremlin: ...holy shit; nice.

They strike up an odd sort of friendship from there. Meetings become random again, though Zer0 takes time to listen. They actually are able to call her Rena in private which is...nice. Kinda easy to forget that was her name before the whole “stranded on Pandora” bit.

Zer0 ends up enabling her collecting habits, too; brings back not-too-bloody clothes and trinkets they find while out and about on jobs. She gains quite the collection, thanks to that!!

Actually wanted to offer assistance when Zer0 took on the Gortys hunt, but joined up only later on and... HOLY SHIT, HYPERION EMPLOYEES!!!

It’s wild, seeing familiar faces and talking about the past. Zer0 has...some concerns, but otherwise trusts the group with Rena.

This includes their plan to invade Helios, in order to get the final piece Gortys needs to access the Vault of the Traveler. They’re not thrilled about her involvement in the plan, but Rena still knows a lot about Helios and the Hyperion system. Her going with ensures things will go even more smoothly, so... Who are they to deny their crush friend from helping others?

....And then they hear it all went to shit. Though they showed up, trying to find Rena among the wreckage... There was no luck. They get upset over this for quite some time, but without a body... Zer0 keeps a metaphorical ear out. Won’t believe she’s dead yet. Not yet.

Eventually, when Rhys gets in contact with Zer0 for help with the vault, they meet up again. Rena is ecstatic to see him again- having since become the head of Atlas’ R&D and gone hunting to assist with this, too- and Zer0 is just happy to be right; she didn’t die back then after all...

Is surprisingly handsy from there on out, flashing the smile or heart emoticons, a hand on Rena’s waist, etc.

Everyone else catches on to Zer0′s affections far faster than Rena herself does, that’s for sure.

Rena: It’s nice... I’ve never really had a lot of platonic affection, you know? Fiona, sighing: N-No, that’s not... How do you not see what’s going on, here?? Rena: .........what? Everyone: s i g h s Rena: ????????

They do eventually ask her out when nearly everyone on the team has them to spare them the oblivious misery, cause- once again- Rena sure ain’t gonna do it.

Also cause Gortys has been trying to ask about them dating anyways, so-?? Just do it???

Zer0 still takes a while longer to get the right words to say that fit their haiku format, but the actual confession...? Well, at least it feels like the right note to end an adventure on; seeing her eyes light up, smile breaking free, and hugging the other tight around the waist was good. Great, even!

...Though with Fiona and Rhys temporarily disappeared...who runs Atlas?

Thankfully, Rena knows Cassie personally and has her and another person- Dan, a pilot for Rhys’ personal ship (and once worked under Handsome Jack, as well)- back her up on heading Atlas for a temporary period of time.

Zer0 sticks around for a time, just to make sure a mutiny doesn’t rise up and try to take Rena down. They only back off once her guard-friends from R&D make their way over... Again, just in case.

Zer0 goes back to work not long after that, though makes sure to visit more often. It not only makes them anxious to not know how Rena is doing (if she’s still alive), but also because they’ve started getting used to her touch. Touch starved? Zer0? ....A little.

Starts even exposing her face around her, Rena admits. What they look like? Well, pffftt, she’d never tell~!

otp; i ruv you (Rena/Timothy Lawrence): Oh, it started as a joke...then I was in too deep and now it’s never been better~

Thanks to both of them being workers under the Hyperion brand, they end up meeting sooner rather than later.

Much like Jack, Tim noticed Rena around: sitting in the Hub and people-watching, walking by her lab... Things like that. Didn’t pay too much mind, but then...he got hurt. On his face.

Rena, being the oldest lasting employee not killed off yet by Handsome Jack, is given the old papers for the build of Jack doubles and given some people to work with by HJack himself in order to fix up Tim right.

It’s love at first appointment; she’s gentle, knows what she’s doing, and eventually he’s looking back to the usual. The little smile she gives as he left? ...His heart was racing for an hour after, he swears by it.

He starts visiting her more, after that. Whether because he allowed himself to get hurt or it’s after a mission and he’s got some extra free time before his next one... He hurries to that lab of hers in order to chat.

Befriends the dragons she creates happily. Silver doesn’t bond to him in the same way, but they tolerate him and will let Tim hold them. It’s so cool!!!

Then Rena admitted to him one of her other projects...wanting to create multi-legged cats. Tim was thrilled at the trust, nervous over the project, but Rena assured all would be well. The dragons have done wonderfully, so that will go well, too!

He got the chance to kiss her when she was patching him up again. He’d tried to lean forward, but she stopped him a moment to finish up...then, shyly, asked if he wanted to try that again...? He lit up and they both got into a hasty, messy kiss that had them giggling in delight.

...With that, their unofficial dating started! (Which HJack quickly knew about and considered doing something to one of them to end it, but overall decided if any news got out, he’d actually take Rena as his own and make his doppelganger regret getting into a relationship behind Jack’s back; capiche? Tim nervously agreed.)

Still... Her move to Pandora made him nervous. Especially since his next assignment was on Elpis, so if anything happened...!

Rena kissed his cheek and assured him she’d be fine. It would be very in and out; no need for worry!

When even Jack was troubled by the report that came in later, Timothy was up in arms ready to shoot down some psychos.

HJack: Like, nobody reported her body. Which could be a sign she’s not dead? But it’s Pandora; who knows? Tim, sweating and shaking: Please...just fucking shut. Up.

Backtalking the boss is bold, but Tim is all kinds of done with this news and needs to ditch for Pandora in order to find Rena. HJack allows this more out of interest for the “game” than anything else.

Timothy ends up- more or less- a sort of permanent presence on Pandora while trying to find Rena. Doesn’t much notice or care when Jack’s insanity summons the Warrior...or when he’s taken down. Besides, people spook more easily to hear Handsome Jack died, but see his masked face even still on Timothy’s own.

Not getting answers on where Rena is...stresses him out, though. Makes him bitter, that maybe someone did kill her... He expresses his anger in a bit of murder and then sulks more over how this is turning him into a lesser Jack after all... Makes the guy almost sympathetic.

But with a few years passing, Atlas suddenly rises up out of the crashed ashes of Helios...and if Tim has any hope left for the lost Rena, might as well go there, right?

He scares the shit out of Rhys, walking in looking like Handsome Jack in the flesh. (Not even his secretary tried to stop him, looking like he did; dirty and murderous.)

...Though it’s actually just some resting bitch face and determination. Tim ends up explaining everything and Rhys even more hurriedly explains that she’s not dead!!! In fact, he just sent her over with a group of hired bandits to the WEP! She’s going...to be heading his new R&D department, you know...

Tim almost doesn’t want to hope, but he jolts out of there faster than Rhys or Cassie can stop him and is rushing to the Preserve in hopes to catch her there and maybe help out in the firefight.

Ends up finding her in a car just outside, all tanked up and safe as she directs everyone to where they need to go...but oh shit, handle that on your own for a bit; there’s a guy outside the car. She walks a little closer...and screeches, stumbling back.

Tim: No, no!! Rena!!! It’s me, it’s Ti- Jimothy!!!! It’s me, not Jack! Rena: ......Timothy?

She hesitantly lets him in and Tim at least proves that- despite his appearance- he is definitely not Jack by patting her over, realizing she’s alive, and then kissing her breathless.

Rena explains her situation having gone by “Gremlin” up to this point and pretending to be a psycho on occasion in order to live. The new friends she’s made up until that point. Tim tells her about the years he spent trying to find her, hoping she wasn’t dead.

As self-promised, he cuddles her in his lap for a little while longer, then kisses her again and joins the firefight outside to clear out the preserve.

Hyperion’s fallen, Atlas is a rising venture... Why not? Student loans sure don’t matter anymore.

He largely stays with Rena at R&D; her personal bodyguard and more-official-than-in-the-past boyfriend.

She also makes good on the multi-legged cats, as mentioned in the past. Tim decidedly loves them just as much- if not more- as regular cats.

ot3; ??? (Maya/Rena/Krieg): So hear me out... I will never learn. This will be neverending. I’m just as disappointed in me as you are. Also, Tumblr removing line breaks is the bane of my existence. Fuck this website. ANYWAYS!

Rena...met Krieg, first. In passing. He was a part of the slag experiments, Rena works R&D.... You hear about this sort of thing. She did, with her sharp ears and too-caring-attitude, despite working for the most monstrous corporation in the six galaxies.

Still, she was never able to help him or anyone else... Despite desperately wanting to. Despite catching his eyes once, guilt eating her up from the inside. (A pity-look from another one of them, Krieg used to think.)

They didn’t meet again until much later, during the events of Borderlands 2: Gremlin stuck on Pandora while Maya and Krieg were deadset on dethroning Handsome Jack. Y’know. Her old boss?

Krieg almost doesn’t recognize her when he’s out wandering, but it’s seeing her dirty face that strikes a chord in his sensible side. He remembers her! One of Hyperion’s own... What’s she doing out here? Alone and without company...?

Not that Krieg cares; seeing someone who was in any way involved with hurting him sends him into a fit of rage, trying to attack her with all he’s got! Rena dodges, not understanding...until she realizes who this psycho is...

It’s the worst first meeting- putting his first interaction with Maya in the dirt- as she eventually bursts into tears trying to apologize to him. It startles Krieg to stop, listening to her as she’s pitifully curled up in the dirt, hands up in a show of surrender, apologizing to...him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you back then!! I wanted to, I really did, but I... I couldn’t! I’m sorry, Krieg, I’m so, so sorry!!!!”

Maya returns to this scene unimpressed, giving a Look to Krieg before helping the still-sobbing Rena. They both take her back to her shambling little base...and Krieg stares at the coat on the wall. The last reminder of who she was...

It occurs to him, then, that they’re in a similar spot. He lost his mind to slag, becoming a psycho, his mind barely together...and Rena is losing her sense of self, too. Going by Gremlin to blend in, faking insanity to blend in...but how long of that before it all becomes too real? Before she changes for good, even without influences like he’d gotten...?

Maya is more than content to help and leave, but Krieg...feels guilty. It’s a rare show of clarity and kindness from the big guy...and that’s when Maya realizes she’s lost the battle before it’s even begun.

They do take down HJack eventually, but frequently stop by to check in on Rena from there on out. Krieg likes poking around and laying on the stolen mattress she has. Maya finds out she’s actually super smart...and it’s fun. It’s nice.

You grow to like- even love- Krieg for his lucid moments. Appreciating his more violent ones for the defense they provide, as well as the enemy-sweeping he can do. Her powers work well with his might.

Add Rena into the mix, it’s brains, balance, and brawn. It works out even better than Maya could’ve predicted....and yeah, she kinda ends up falling for the scientist, too. Would’ve never pegged herself as the polyamrous type, but... She and Krieg share the sentiments.

Rena and Krieg keep each other balanced. Maya doesn’t have time to baby anyone; she keeps going at her own pace. Anyone who wants to keep up has to pull their weight...but Rena is a natural nurturer. When she’s a little loopy, they use a language only they can really understand. (It takes Maya some time to adjust to.) When Krieg gets frustrated, she helps him through it. To get back in touch with his old self. It’s comforting. Very comforting.

Maya and Rena, on the other hand, share a lot of conversation about....anything and everything. Maya talks about her Siren powers and pieces of her life. Rena talks about her own life- a lot more openly- and the science she used to do on Hyperion. How proud she still is of those times. Maya’s endeared to those moments.

It also later comes in handy... When Maya needs to depart from Pandora to go back to Athenas some time later, wanting to further underside her Siren lineage. Pandora only answered so much, after all...

Won’t let Rena or Krieg join, but the two keep each other company in the meantime. Waiting for Maya to come back home.

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