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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Sunday Morning

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s Sunday opens up, so she concocts a little plan to pass the time. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ This one is pure filth, y’all, buckle up (dom!Spencer, female masturbation, oral sex- male receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, spitting, multiple orgasms) Warnings: sex, strong language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in the warnings. I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.6k

NOTE: The more I add to this little series the more excited I get to keep writing it, and it really helps that you all seem to like every new addition, so thank you for all the love! I do have a few more tricks up my sleeve, and I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I do. Part 4 is set to come out either tomorrow or Monday! I hope you enjoy 🥰

***

"Are you sure, Mom? I can still try to come earlier if you want, I don't have anything going on."

Y/N's mother sighed on the other end of the line. "No, that's alright. But I made sure to have off next weekend, so I'll come by your place and we can celebrate then. How's that sound?"

She smiled, happy at the prospect of seeing her mother again soon, but something else crossed her mind that deemed this cancellation a blessing in disguise. "That sounds great. I love you. Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Sweetie. I love you, too."

She thought about knocking on Spencer's door the second she hung up the phone, but decided that she wanted to have a little more fun, so she hurried to her bedroom. As she grabbed something from the bedside table drawer and planted herself in bed, she felt just the smallest sliver of guilt for being this excited about her mom cancelling their plans. But for one thing they had next weekend, and for another she'd been thinking about her neighbor non-stop since Friday night.

After they had finished their laundry that night, Spencer and Y/N walked up to their hall together and ended up in the shower. They slept in separate places, though, Y/N stumbling back into her apartment at around nine thirty and immediately going to bed. Early, maybe, but she'd just been fucked twice in a row, and the second time had lasted about an hour and a half since they didn't have to worry about anyone walking in and interrupting. Truthfully it was a wonder she could walk at all these days, but she didn't mind either way. Who knew listening in on your neighbor having sex and them finding out about it could turn into something so good?

Which brought Y/N back to the present. Sunday morning. She knew Spencer was an early riser, so he'd definitely be awake. Whether he'd be in bed was another thing, but she decided to take her chances.

So she leaned back against the headboard, spread her legs, and clicked on her vibrator. The familiar buzzing sound sent a jolt of excitement through her body, only made more electric when it made contact with her clit. She pressed it lightly, the setting still low as she closed her eyes. With her goal in mind, it didn't really take long to start feeling something, images and flashbacks of Spencer's head between her legs only adding to the sensations.

"Ohhh," she let out loudly at a particular memory that involved him fingering her in the shower. His lips had been biting and sucking at the skin on her neck while his middle and ring fingers worked inside her, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit. If she thought hard enough, she could be there then, the sound of the vibrator replaced with the hum of the shower.

"Oh, Spencer, please!" she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut and moving the vibrator in small circles around her clit. "Fuck, you feel so good!" At this point she was so lost in the memories that she didn't even remember why she'd started doing this. She was being loud, moaning and sighing as she played out her Friday night in her mind without even trying to get anyone's attention. At this point it was purely for her enjoyment.

Though, that sentiment didn't last very long, because just as she was about to orgasm, her phone buzzed. She could have ignored it, but completely pulled herself out of her fantasy once she realized that it could have been her mother.

Groaning from irritation rather than pleasure, she clicked off the vibrator, set it on the bed, and picked up her phone.

When she saw it, her heart stopped.

From: Spencer Reid Not another sound. Call me for instructions.

"Holy fuck," Y/N gasped, scrambling to hit the 'call' button. It took no time at all for Spencer to answer.

Before she could say anything, his voice rung low on the other end of the line, sending a chill through her body. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes," she breathed without a second thought.

"Okay. Is your door unlocked?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause, and for a moment Y/N thought maybe he was leaving his apartment and on his way over, but then he spoke again. "When I get there I want to see you naked and on your knees, facing the wall. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

The sound she heard him make was guttural, somewhere between a growl and a moan, and it shot straight through every bone and muscle in her body. He hung up then, and Y/N practically threw her phone across the room and scrambled to her knees, ripping what little clothing she had off her body and bracing her hands against the headboard. She expected him to be there in a flash, but after waiting for about five minutes, it was obvious that this was part of his game— making her wait. An involuntary whimper escaped her throat at the thought of what he could possibly have planned for her.

When the door sounded from the living room, Y/N jolted, her heartbeat picking up and her hands gripping the headboard so tightly that her knuckles ached. Did she dare turn her head around to see him when he walked in? If she did, what would he do to punish her? Would he punish her at all?

For a moment she wondered if she'd even heard the door at all, because again, it took forever for him to get there. But then she heard a soft groan sounding from the bedroom door and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Oh, good girl. Look at you..."

His words, his voice... Y/N let out a shaky breath and bit her lip, wondering if she should speak. Eventually, she did. "W-what took you so long?"

Spencer laughed behind her, still not in view. "I had to make you wait, pretty girl. Where would be the fun in just giving you what you want?"

She didn't know what to say. So she silently waited for instruction, her hands loosening around the headboard just a little, trying to relax.

He got closer, and it sounded like he was stripping layers of clothing as he did so. Eventually he reached the side of her bed and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately letting out a soft whimper at the sight of him. He had, indeed, been stripping clothing as he made his way to her, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and dropping his shirt to the ground. Y/N let her gaze travel along his body before meeting his eyes and almost falling to pieces when she did.

This amused him. "Already so eager, pretty girl? I haven't even done anything yet."

She wasn't sure what to say, so she told the truth. "Just you being here is enough. You've completely ruined me."

Spencer laughed and brought his hand out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, to which she sighed and closed her eyes "Not yet."

She opened her eyes again at that promise, and just by looking at him, she practically pleaded with him to do something, every inch of her body, mind, and soul completely blinded by his presence.

Seeming to take pity on her, or maybe just because seeing her like this was driving him mad, she wasn't sure, Spencer obliged, leaning forward and kissing her deeply. As per usual, she melted into him, struggling to keep her weight up on her knees. Her hands gripped onto the headboard for dear life as he brought his face closer, using both his hands to cradle her face and his tongue to open her mouth. She'd already decided long ago that she would give him anything he wanted, and this was no different. He kissed her wildly and she kissed him back with the same fervor, groaning into his mouth every so often. At one point she lost her balance and fell forward, pulling Spencer onto the bed, and he broke away, a laugh playing at his lips right after.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he reassured, climbing up the bed and reaching for her hands. He was laying on his side now, pulling her towards him, and butterflies erupted in her stomach at the wholesomeness of it all. It was like the entire mood shifted from being domineeringly sexy to sweetly intimate.

Spencer all but pulled Y/N on top of him, rolling over on his back and forcing her to straddle his lap when he pulled her down for another kiss. The fabric of his sweatpants grazed her bare clit as she moved, making her rock her hips forward and causing him to groan into her mouth. He broke the kiss apart for a moment to say, "Keep doing that, pretty girl," and then resumed kissing her, barely giving her time to process his words.

In the end she did it anyway, grinding down on him and moaning as she did so, every movement slowly but surely bringing her closer to orgasm again. She was so caught up in the feeling that she didn't notice Spencer grabbing the vibrator still on her bed until she heard it turn on, that familiar buzzing pulling her from her haze.

She broke apart from him, cheeks red. "I totally forgot to put that away, I'm so— oh!"

Before she could finish her apology, Spencer had the vibrator pressed to her clit, and she closed her eyes, instinctively grinding down for more friction. This in turn caused him to let up, pulling the vibrator away just a little, and she whined.

"God, I love hearing how needy you are, baby," he breathed, teasing her. "Can't you feel it?" Every time Y/N rocked her hips, she could feel his cock getting harder through his pants, it had been unmistakable. When she didn't respond with words, he brought the vibrator away and reiterated, "Don't you feel it?"

"Yes, I love feeling how hard your cock gets for me," she breathed, grinding down on it and hoping for him to respond in kind. When he did, she gasped, opening her eyes and bracing her hands on his bare chest. "Fuck, you know how to make me feel so good."

"That's what I like to hear. Now get up for me." He pulled the vibrator away once more and she whined again at the loss of contact, but got up nonetheless. "Sit up on your knees and put your back against the headboard, okay? I want to fuck that pretty little throat."

Don't have to tell me twice, she thought greedily as she did as she was told. Spencer moved the pillows out of her way and tossed them to the foot of the bed as she sat on her knees. The cool metal of the headboard somewhat calmed the heat radiating off of her body, though ultimately it couldn't dwell the heat she felt when he looked at her, standing on the bed and sliding down his pants and underwear in one fluid motion before kicking them to the side, holding her gaze the entire time.

Just as Y/N was about to lean forward, he placed a hand on her head, gripping some of her hair and tilting her head up to really look at him. "Not yet. Give me your hands." She held them out to him, unsure of what he was planning, but when he gathered them both in one hand and pinned them to the wall above her head, she bit her lip. The grin he wore gave her shivers, just before he said, "Open up wide, pretty girl."

She licked her lips and then opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out and down as far as it would go to make room as she stared up at his face. The second his dick touched her tongue she groaned, ready for whatever he was about to give her. If she tried to bob her head, it would hit the headboard rather hard, so she opted to stay still, letting Spencer get off on his own terms. Which they both seemed to be happy with, because every time he hit the back of her throat, she moaned, nearly gagging, and in turn he bit his lip and tightened his grip in her hair and on her wrists.

"You always take my cock so well, fuck," he groaned, quickening his pace. She didn't know what feeling she was trying to convey as she did so, but nonetheless she hummed around him, trying her best not to choke but ultimately failing. He pulled away for a moment, releasing her hair from his grip and letting her breathe for all of two seconds before tapping his dick on her tongue a few times in quick succession. The action made her moan, and against her better judgement, she leaned forward to take him in her mouth again, hollowing her cheeks. Her wrists strained against his hands as he grinned. "You liked that, huh?"

She got out a 'mhmm' around his cock quickly before he thrusted forward and hit the back of her throat again, sending her head against the metal of the headboard. She winced a little in pain, but welcomed it all the same, looking up at him through hooded eyes and trying to tell him without words that she wanted this more than anything.

It seems like he got the memo, because he brushed the hair from her face in a sweet gesture that completely contradicted what he was doing to her mouth. He gave a few more purposeful thrusts, holding himself down her throat for a few seconds before pulling away completely and letting go of her wrists. Spit dripped down her chin as she caught her breath, but she smiled all the same, bringing her hands down to wipe the wetness from her face and some of the tears on her cheeks. "I love when you use me like that, baby," she purred, rubbing her legs together and running her tongue over her bottom lip.

Spencer leaned down and kissed her again, pulling her up to stand with him before pushing her against the wall, her legs hitting the headboard. She moaned into his mouth and brought her hands up to comb through his hair, to which he sighed and pressed into her harder. The weight of him made Y/N all warm and safe as she realized she would spend the rest of her life wrapped up in him if she could. Yes, their relationship as of late had been inherently sexual in nature, but something about the way he took precise care with her body as he kissed her like this, cradling her face in his large hands and keeping himself as close as he could get, made Y/N weak. She trusted Spencer Reid with her life, and she could only hope that he felt the same way, even if just a little.

Though she was a little disappointed when he broke the kiss, what he did next took that disappointment and pummeled it to the ground, transforming it into hunger.

His thumb ran over her lips before pushing further into her mouth. She gladly took it, swirling her tongue around it and then groaning as he brought it out, running it down her chin and tilting her head up to look at him.

"How do you want it, pretty girl?" he asked softly, making her practically crumble beneath him.

The question itself and the way he said it was hot as hell. But there was no way she would have been able to choose. Truthfully, he could do it any way and she'd just as easily give up everything to experience it again. Even as she tried quickly to come up with something, blurting out anything, all that came out was, "However you want me." It was the pure, unabashed truth.

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment before simply scooping her up from her feet, kneeling down, and laying her on her back. His dominating presence seemed to take over again as he scooted her to him by her legs. She yelled out as he wrapped them promptly around his shoulders and pushed into her without a second thought. He went easy at first, taking his time getting to just be inside her again, but Y/N wanted more.

"Fuck me harder," she moaned out desperately, reaching out to grab the blankets.

A dark chuckle left Spencer's mouth as he leaned forward, stretching her legs closer to her chest and angling himself deeper inside her. All the while, his pace never slowed or increased, and neither did his pressure. "You're getting greedy, pretty girl. But you're gonna take what I give you. Guess you should have thought of that before you let me choose how to fuck you."

And at that sentiment, he leaned forward even further, slamming into her hard, and Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the sensation. He pulled out slow and did it again, and again, and again, each time pushing her farther into the mattress. Upon seeing her squeezed shut eyes and open mouth, he said, "Is this what you wanted? Huh? To be fucked like a whore?"

She opened her eyes and bit her lip as he picked up the pace a little, every stroke sending shots of fire through her veins. She tried to speak but her brain was muddled, every thought clouded by the intense pleasure her body was experiencing. Spencer noticed this, and with a small laugh reached his hand out and grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open as he went faster. "Aww, the little slut can't even speak, I've been fucking her so good. Is that right?"

Her only answer was a moan as he went deeper and faster, hitting her g-spot with every thrust forward, to which he laughed again.

"Tongue out, baby," he demanded sweetly, leaning forward. Y/N knew exactly what he was going to do, and she eagerly did as she was told, her eyes lighting up as she did. Watching, and then feeling Spencer spit directly on her tongue, feeling it slide down as she swallowed it, only added to her pleasure, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she fell over the edge.

"I-I'm..." was all she could manage to get out.

"Go ahead, pretty girl, let it all out."

And so she did, letting out a string of yells that barely resembled his name. But he wasn't done yet, and so even after she'd come down he continued his brutal pace inside of her and brought himself closer, caressing her face as he did so. The discomfort shortly morphed into painful pleasure as Y/N approached another high.

"You gonna give me another one? I know you can take it." And as if those words weren't enough, he added something that sent a chill through her. "It's a shame you're not on birth control, because I'd love nothing more than to fill up that slutty little pussy. Make you mine."

Just like that, she was gone, her eyes squeezed shut and seeing stars dance behind them as she came another time. It only lasted a few seconds shorter than her previous orgasm, but Spencer pulled out and away, dangerously close to his own. She composed herself, slowly opening her eyes to see him jerking off over her. In a split second decision, she opened her mouth and groaned, without words telling him exactly what she wanted. And he was more than happy to give it to her, removing her legs from his shoulders and moving up her body with the slyest grin she'd seen from him yet.

"That's a good girl," he got out just before she felt his cum coat her mouth. While most of it slid down the back of her tongue and pooled in the back of her throat, a little missed and landed on her cheek, but she smiled nonetheless, welcoming its warmth. When he was done, panting above her, she brought her tongue out to swirl around the head of his cock before swallowing and smiling back at him

She was about to wipe the cum off her cheek, but before she could get to it, Spencer was on her, leaning down and doing the unexpected. She whined as he brought his tongue down and scooped it off her cheek, then moving to her mouth and kissing her, practically feeding himself to her. As they continued making out like that, her head swam. She swore with every new second she spent with him, she was getting more and more invested, craving him in almost every capacity. So when he pulled away, breaking their kiss and laying down beside her, she scooted closer to him, longing to feel him all around her.

"I don't know how every time gets better and better," she mumbled against his chest, and she felt him laugh.

"What can I say, pretty girl, you give me all sorts of good ideas."

That made her blush, and she snuggled closer to him, their legs tangling together. The two of them stayed like that for a while, comfortable silence settling between them before Spencer spoke, pulling away slightly to look at her face.

"Hey, I was thinking... You don't have to say yes if you don't want to, but I... I wanted to know if you'd maybe want to go to dinner sometime?"

Despite the butterflies blooming in her stomach, Y/N laughed playfully. "You would fuck me senseless and then ask me to dinner all sweetly," she mused, running her fingers through his hair and rubbing her nose against his. "I'd love to."

Spencer let out a sigh, whether from relief or contentment she wasn't sure. Maybe both. But it filled her heart with joy all the same.

"Good," he said, pressing a small kiss to her lips. "It's a date."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

1K notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt. But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly.

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency.

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen.

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee.

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun.

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #reader insert #my writing #speed and stress

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

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@evilteddybear requested: I always love a LWJ/WWX fic where the sect leaders, especially Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Qiren, come to the Burial Mounds and see what it's like before attacking, try to negotiate.

Thanks for the request (and your patience in seeing it filled), hope you like it!

[Masterpost] [Ao3]

“Xiongzhang.”

“Wangji. I don’t like it any more than you do but it’s going to be the best solution for everyone.”

The weight of his brother’s glare is nearly a physical blow but Lan Xichen is used to it and stands firm. It helps that he can distract himself from the heat of it by focusing on the long trek down to the bottom of the staircase of Jinlintai. With Jin Guangyao busy for the afternoon Lan Xichen had offered to take Lan Wangji into the city for the day, though now he’s wondering just why he had though that would be a good idea in the first place. Now at least, he supposes, they have the excuse of going off to purchase paper fine enough to be suitable for an invitation for Wei Wuxian to attend his nephew’s one-month celebration.

“I will take him the letter myself,” Lan Wangji states, voice pitched low and steady. Though it’s an obstinate, unmovable tone that Lan Xichen has heard far too many times before, he can’t help but feel that it’s his duty to put up at least something of a token argument. He can never seem to argue with anyone but Lan Wangji, but even then he almost always ends up bowing out as gracefully as he can under the strength of his headstrong brother’s will.

“Wangji, it’s not safe…”

“Wei Ying will not hurt me.”

“I didn’t say that he would.”

“The Wens are not a threat.”

Lan Xichen sighs heavily and pauses as they reach a landing to close his eyes against the inevitability of his little brother getting to have his way. He always has until the day Wei Wuxian left with his band of Wens, and Lan Wangji has been doggedly pursuing him – whether Wei Wuxian is aware of it or not – ever since. He’s never done well with not getting precisely what he wants when he wants it, and Lan Xichen adores his brother and the fact that he’s grown up being given what few things he has wanted without much thought. However in this moment, for this situation, he can’t help but privately wish deep down that his brother knew how to practice the same sacrifice that Lan Xichen himself makes when it comes to those he wishes to protect.

“If you doubt me you may come with me.”

“Wangji-“ Lan Xichen cuts off with another sigh as his brother simply walks away, his piece said and his interest in the conversation clearly exhausted. They both know very well that he’ll do what he wants, and Lan Xichen will allow it. Which is why, in the end, it’s no surprise at all that Lan Wangji makes his way to Yiling with his invitation tucked safely in a qiankun pouch, nor is it particularly surprising that Lan Xichen has accepted Lan Wangji’s sort-of-bluff of an invitation to go with him. What isa surprise is that Nie Mingjue had elected to join them when he’d caught wind of where they were going and why.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen attempts to soothe now as the man in question paces back and forth in the confines of their room. In the interest of keeping the peace he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Lan Wangji got to have his own space, but any notions that Lan Xichen may have had about utilizing the relative privacy this arrangement affords to Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue have so far borne no fruit whatsoever. “I warned you that this would be a matter of patience, you didn’t have to come with us.”

“What? And let you both walk into the lion’s den? Of course I had to come.”

“Wangji and I are far from helpless, Mingjue, and he is certain that Wei Wuxian won’t harm us.”

“He’s the only one.”

“He’s not, I-“

“Xichen I will walk all the way back to Qinghe right now if you can honestly tell me that you’re completely and utterly certain that Wei Wuxian won’t hurt anybody!”

Xichen lets out an uncharacteristically audible sigh at that and fixes Nie Mingjue with one of his Looks that always make the man cave. “Even if I could meet those terms I wouldn’t want you to go back to Qinghe. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

“Can we stay on task here?”

“We are. We are waiting for someone to leave the Burial Mounds so that we may approach them in town rather than appearing threatening by attempting to infiltrate their settlement on the mountain. There is nothing to do now but be patient. What about our current activities are not on task?”

“We need to use this time to strategize. Plan. Things may go wrong. We may need to protect Wangji, he may need to protect either of us. We don’t know what we’re in for.”

“Mingjue.”

“Xichen.”

“This is not a battle, nor a war. We are approaching a young man – a young man Wangji trusts - who hasn’t done anything dangerous in a year so that we may invite him to a family event. Please sit down and relax.”

Nie Mingjue finally stops his pacing to turn a betrayed glare on Lan Xichen, but as with Lan Wangji he’s well used to absorbing Nie Mingjue’s frustration and neutralizing it with the soft, reassuring lines of his smile. Nie Mingjue has never been able to stay angry with him – or even near him – for longer than a few heartbeats anyway, and Lan Xichen watches the tension bleed from his broad shoulders with his next blustering exhale.

“Wangji believes that our presence may alarm the inhabitants of the Burial Mounds should we be allowed to enter their wards. You will need to remain calm in such a case so that we can show that we bear them no ill will.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and Lan Xichen’s heart aches a bit for Nie Mingjue, so level-headed when it matters but so hot-headed when it shouldn’t. Nie Mingjue meets his gaze and then groans, covering his face with both hands and tipping his head back a bit as he says, slightly muffled, “Don’t give me that look, Xichen, that’s not fair. How do you always know how to get your way?!”

“It would be significantly harder to have my way if you didn’t know in your heart that I’m right. This is a delicate situation, Mingjue, we can’t let past anger cloud our judgement now. Wangji has been here before and he says that what’s going on here isn’t what everyone says it is. We’re only here to keep him safe on his errand and see things for ourselves, alright? Now is not the time to declare the continuation of Jin Guangshan’s blood feud with the Wens.”

“Yes, fine, fine! I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

“And no glaring.”

“Xichen!” Nie Mingjue manages an affronted look for only a scant moment before it too fades into grumbling acquiescence as he resumes his pacing. “Fine. As little glaring as I can manage.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I love you.”

“Xichen!” Lan Xichen laughs softly to see Nie Mingjue’s blush overtakes his handsome features, turning his entire face a lovely shade of red as he splutters his way through returning the infrequently-expressed sentiment and accepts kisses that thoroughly distract him from any lingering anger.

It takes two full days of waiting before Wangji suddenly stands and strides off right in the middle of their morning meal. The behavior is so unusual that Lan Xichen is instantly worried, though as he stands to follow – with Nie Mingjue hot on their heels – he relaxes ever so slightly to see that Lan Wangji is heading straight for a young man Lan Xichen recognizes dimly as Wen Qionglin. He reaches out instinctively to rest a restraining hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm when he feels the man tense next to him, but though the Ghost General looks a little wary upon spotting Lan Wangji he doesn’t look hostile. In fact, he looks as timid and soft-spoken as he had when Lan Xichen had seen him during the lectures in Cloud Recesses. The only hint that he can see that something is different than it was then is the pallor to his skin and, just barely visible through the curtain of his mostly-unbound hair, thin spiderwebs of black cracks on his neck that creep up towards the underside of his jaw.

It takes some convincing from Lan Wangji before Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are allowed to approach, and then further convincing from Lan Xichen before Wen Ning agrees to let them all come up the mountain. He takes the invitation Lan Wangji presents with gentle, steady hands and holds it as gingerly as one would expect someone to hold little Jin Ling himself, and once again Lan Xichen finds his heart aching – this time for the cruelty of the world that always seems to touch the gentlest of souls.

The trek up the mountain is slow and hot, but the further they get from the town the colder things get. The sensation of the sun on his skin is still there, but it somehow brings him no warmth. The shade cast by the twisting, barren limbs of the trees seems wan and thin, and yet the chill he feels in their shadows reaches into his bones with clawed fingers of dread. The soil becomes loose and dusty under their feet and before too much longer he can feel resentful energy crawling along his skin, seeking weakness. That sensation, at least, passes almost as soon as he notices it and he realizes they must have passed through the wards. Things grow, if possible, even more gray and sere from then onwards, though by the time he can begin to hear sounds besides the wind through dead, hollow trees there are a few with some life in them. A few gnarled leaves on some of the branches in the underbrush, a few trees bearing small fruits.

They pass the first field for planting before they see anyone to till it, though the next field has a figure bent to their task. They sit up straight to watch them pass and Wen Ning offers a little wave to the figure who nods back, wariness etched into every line of their posture. Lan Xichen chances a glance at Lan Wangji to find him facing staunchly ahead, fist held behind his back and his eyes glued to the invitation in Wen Ning’s hand.

“Wei-gongzi should be tending to his field this time of day,” Wen Ning says in his typical soft stammer as they approach what seems to be the heart of the settlement. There are more people around now, all going about various agrarian tasks with varying degrees of vigor. Lan Xichen is about to ask what he means by field when he looks ahead again and spots it, shocking in the gray landscape around them – a bright green space dotted with soft pink petals, and a man in shades of black and grey bent over it with his trousers rolled up to the knee.

It’s clear that Lan Wangji is aching to go to him but they’re stopped before they can go any further by a small young woman suddenly in their way, her feet planted and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wen-guniang,” Lan Wangji greets with a salute as Wen Ning offers a quiet, “Jie..”

“A-Ning. What are they doing here?”

There’s a beat of silence that Lan Xichen abruptly realizes it’s his responsibility to fill, despite this being Lan Wangji’s errand.

“Wen-guniang,” he greets with a salute of his own that Nie Mingjue copies at his side a beat later. “Wangji has an invitation to extend to Wei Wuxian, and Nie-zongzhu and I agreed to accompany him.”

“An invitation?” At her prompting, Wen Ning hurries to hold out the document itself for her to take, which she does with another skeptical glance at the three of them before she opens it to read the contents. Lan Xichen watches her face for some sort of reaction to the news that Wei Wuxian is invited to Jinlintai, but if she has any sort of feeling about it she does an admirable job of hiding it.

“Wei Wuxian!” she calls without looking away from them. Lan Wangji’s spine stiffens and goes miraculously straighter, as if Wei Wuxian’s name alone is enough to electrify. The man in question waves a mud-stained hand in their general direction without turning around.

“What is it, Wen Qing? A-Yuan is playing with Popo right now.”

Lan Xichen glances up at Nie Mingjue at that with a question in his expression though he knows Nie Mingjue likely doesn’t understand that any better than he does. Nie Mingjue isn’t even looking at him anyway, as it turns out. Instead he’s looking around what they can see from where they are – a crumbling stone structure built into the side of the mountain. Crude wooden huts made from the subpar lumber available in the twisting dead forest around them. Tired farmers in clothes that look one hard winter away from falling apart. And over it all the pall of death and decay that’s inescapable in the midst of a field that had once been, as the name suggests, nothing but a hill of bones and restless spirits.

“You have…guests.”

Lan Xichen looks ahead again in time to catch Wei Wuxian whipping around so quickly he nearly falls off his perch at the edge of his ‘field’ of lotuses, thriving right there in the middle of the Burial Mounds, against all odds.

“Lan Zhan!” he squeaks, looking utterly shocked to see Lan Wangji, let alone him or Nie Mingjue. “What are you-“

“Rich-gege!!!” A tiny voice suddenly cries and Lan Xichen is startled to see a small blur come running from the direction of one of the other fields to plaster itself against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“Hello A-Yuan,” he says softly, almost too softly for Lan Xichen to hear, and he drops his hand down from behind his back to pet the top of the boy’s head, smoothing flyaway hairs back from his little face.

“A child, Mingjue,” he whispers, though the volume can’t hide his horror. This is the ‘band of Wen rebels’ the Jin Sect is so afraid of? This is who remains as the target of their revenge and hatred?

“I see him,” Mingjue replies quietly, jaw working with a little flutter of the muscles in his cheek. “I see them.”

“Rich-gege Xian-gege said you wouldn’t come back but you did!! Pick up, please!”

Lan Xichen wonders if it’s possible for his eyes to go any wider as Lan Wangji reaches down without hesitation to curl his hands under A-Yuan’s reaching arms and, heft him up onto his hip where the boy promptly clings and lays his head down, seemingly content to hug and be held.

“Lan Zhan what are you – what are you all doing here?” Wei Wuxian tries again as he stumbles out of the mud of his pond to traipse across the space between them, cleaning his hands rather ineffectually on his robes hiked up around his hips. When he draws level with Wen Qing she holds the invitation out to him with a look in her eyes that Lan Xichen can’t quite decipher. It’s the first time she’s taken her eyes off of them since she had intercepted them, and Lan Xichen is a little embarrassed to realize he’s relieved to no longer be the subject of her sharp attention.

“They brought you this. You can go see your sister.”

“What?!” Wei Wuxian scrambles to open the letter, eyes flying across the page as he reads whatever it was Lan Wangji had written – knowing him it’s probably as bare-bones as possible, conveying only the necessary information and nothing else. It doesn’t take him long at all to look back up from the page with suspiciously shining eyes. “Is this real?”

“Mn. It was agreed upon.”

“Jiang Cheng agreed to this? And Jin Zixuan?”

“Mn.”

For an alarming moment Wei Wuxian looks like he’s in desperate need of a place to sit, but he rallies quickly and all of a sudden his smile is absolutely blinding, the way it had been once when he’d been a younger, much more carefree teenager coming to study in Gusu. When his smiles had turned Lan Wangji’s ears red and made him glare daggers through whatever poor wall or floor or passing disciple happened to be in his line of sight.

“Oh. Oh wait come in, come in, you’re making everybody nervous out here,” he says with a laugh that doesn’t sound..entirely genuine, but another glance around the settlement proves that he’s got a point. The Wens are all watching them now, tasks forgotten in the need to watch for approaching danger. “Lan Zhan sorry about A-Yuan, he probably won’t be willing to let go for a while.”

“No need.”

“Aiyah. Fine, fine. Come in. Wen Qing and Wen Ning, you too. Come on, let’s go,” he says and just like that Lan Xichen realizes with amusement that they’re all being shepherded into…a cave. It’s a spacious cave, the dilapidated remains of the palace built into the mountain, but it is still effectively a cave. There are tables set up in what’s clearly a communal dining area and Wei Wuxian bustles ahead of them to swipe some accumulated dirt from a couple of the benches before gesturing for them to sit.

“Ah Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, apologies for my manners,” Wei Wuxian says with a salute for both of them that Lan Xichen is quick to smile away. “We’re not exactly ah…equipped for visitors such as yourselves, I’m sure you understand.”

Lan Xichen takes a seat at the table between Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji, who has now transferred the child clinging to him to his lap where the boy sits looking at the two strangers to him with wide, curious eyes.

“Xian-gege, Rich-gege brought friends this time,” he observes and earns himself an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Wei Wuxian.

“He did! And they’re very important friends so behave for Rich-gege, alright?”

“A-Yuan is better behaved than you are, Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing retorts in what Lan Xichen is sure is meant to be their usual banter, though it comes out flat and, if he’s not mistaken, too stressed for the joke to properly land. Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does then he is still adept at charging through any sort of tension with his usual charm.

“So rude, Wen Qing, we have guests,” he says with a little flourish as he finally takes his robes down from where they’re hitched up and pats them into place where they belong. It becomes even more apparent how threadbare they are with the full length of them on display. He sits down quickly enough and the Wen siblings move to stand behind him, arms crossed protectively over their chests though rather than looking intimidating, as he’s sure other people would find them, to Lan Xichen they just look…afraid.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says softly, and though Lan Xichen knows his brother well enough to know that there’s a whole thought tucked into those two words, he doesn’t know them well enough to know what those thoughts are. And that is strangely disconcerting, to realize that there’s an entire facet of his brother that he doesn’t understand anymore.

“Lan Zhan, not that I’m not pleased to see you, of course you know I am. But why are you here?” Lan Wangji flicks his gaze towards the invitation now stowed safely in the front of Wei Wuxian’s robes and the man rests a hand gently over it, though his resolved expression doesn’t waver. “This could have been delivered by post, or by messenger. The townspeople know Wen Ning, they would have gotten it to him if you had left it for us. Why did you come here in person? And - no offense Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, but..why are you part of this too?”

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning speaks up softly, surprising everyone else in the room. “I don’t think you’ll be safe in Jinlintai.” It’s something of a non-sequitur but somehow the thoughts must be connected, and Wei Wuxian muster understand how they are judging by the way his entire demeanor changes into something much more alert.

Lan Xichen sighs softly as Wei Wuxian’s sharp gaze fixes on them, but it’s Nie Mingjue who speaks up first.

“Jin Guangshan wants your amulet.” It’s bold and barefaced in the way that Nies tend to be and though Lan Xichen is used to it, it still makes him feel a bit squirmy and anxious in the pit of his stomach to hear something so unpleasant laid out so plainly. Not that he’ll ever let it show, of course.

“Well he can’t have it. Next.”

“He thinks the Wens here are dangerous.”

“Clearly we’re not. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and I are the only cultivators here. Besides, we’re barely feeding ourselves, let alone preparing to take on the Jins. Next.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji cuts in, and this agonized tone, at least, Lan Xichen recognizes.

He interrupts before they can begin any sort of argument. “Wei-gongzi. During the discussion of whether or not you should be present for Jin Ling’s celebration, Jin Guangshan presented concerns about both the amulet and Wen-gongzi. You can’t deny that these are valid concerns for those whom you consider to be enemies.”

“I don’t have enemies unless they make themselves my enemy,” Wei Wuxian shoots back, all trace of boyish excitement gone from his face now. “None of you were there that night in Qiongqi Pass. Did any of you even visit the work camps Jin Guangshan put the Wens in? Did you see, with your own eyes, the field of corpses they created because they knew that the cultivation world would turn a blind eye?” There’s ringing silence for a moment before he repeats his demand. “Did you?!”

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing warns, low and quiet.

“If Jin Guangshan is so bored of watching over Lanling and sending his cultivators to protect the interests of his own Sect then by all means, create an enemy of me. I knew what I was doing when I took these people away and brought them here. I know what people say of me, and of the Wens, do you think I don’t? Words are nothing. Fear is nothing. But if someone acts against me and those I’m sworn to protect, can I not defend myself? Can I not defend them?!”

Lan Xichen curls his hands into slow fists on his knees under the edge of the table as Wei Wuxian makes a wild gesture in the general direction of the rest of the settlement, beginning to look desperate as he works himself up.

“You saw them with your own eyes. They’re just farmers, they’re just regular people, the kind that we’re supposed to protect! Popo plays with A-Yuan to keep him occupied while we work in the fields and Fourth Uncle makes wine from the fruit that grows here and everyone here is just trying to survive, yet you would rather see them all dead for the sin of having once been related to a man who has already been killed for his crimes?”

“Xian-gege,” A-Yuan says softly from his perch in Lan Wangji’s lap. Lan Xichen turns an agonized glance on him to find him reaching out for Wei Wuxian with one chubby little hand, his eyes still wide though now it’s with something like concern rather than the curiosity of before.

“A-Ning, take A-Yuan back to Popo,” Wen Qing instructs. Her brother obeys with a nod, reaching down for A-Yuan even as the boy tries to cling to Lan Wangji.

“Want to stay with Rich-gege!”

“I will come find you soon, A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji promises with something fierce and immovable in his eyes. “Go with Wen Ning.”

There’s a quick flutter of activity as the child allows himself to be carried away, and as Lan Wangji shifts his weight to get comfortable again Lan Xichen doesn’t miss the way he subtly positions himself a little closer to Wei Wuxian. It’s hardly noticeable, but it puts him on the same half of the table as Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing still standing behind his shoulder, and when Lan Xichen meets his brother’s eyes he knows precisely whose side he will stand on should it come to that.

He desperately hopes that it won’t.

“This invitation to Jin Ling’s celebration is a trap, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian asks and unlike the boyish cheerfulness of before, or the anger of mere moments ago, his tone is now as cold and blank as the stones outside.

“No,” Lan Xichen protests, though it’s undercut significantly by Lan Wangji replying with a simultaneous (and much more convincing), “Yes.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“Jin Guangshan wants the amulet. He knows you will not miss a chance to see your family. He will demand you hand over your amulet and Wen Ning to show that you are no longer a threat to him, and if you refuse I do not know what he will do.”

“He just wants to destroy the amulet and the…weapon,” Nie Mingjue cuts in, gruff and clearly unhappy with the way things are going but it is, surprisingly, Wen Qing who rises to meet him.

“You can’t seriously tell me you buy that? That a man like Jin Guangshan can be handed something powerful and decide, out of the goodness of his heart, to get rid of it,” she snaps, eyes once again cutting and her hands clutched in her sleeves where her arms are crossed. “And that ‘weapon’ is my brother, who, in case you haven’t seen, is in full control of himself and his thoughts. He counts as one of us, and destroying him now would be to finish the murder that those guards at the work camp didn’t finish.”

An uncomfortable silence drops in the wake of her anger and in it Wei Wuxian rises slowly from the table to stand next to Wen Qing, his arms crossed over his chest as well. Lan Xichen can’t help but flick a cautious glance at the hand closest to the flute tucked into his belt but at least for the moment it doesn’t seem like he’ll be reaching for it.

“If you’ve come as nothing more than Jin Guangshan’s messengers then I’m taking you right back down the mountain, one way or another. I’m protecting these people, and that is not up for negotiation. You can tell Jin Guangshan that yourself.”

“Wei Ying-“

“Lan Zhan this isn’t directed at you. It’s them.”

Lan Xichen blinks slowly as he realizes that Lan Wangji’s subtle positioning hadn’t gone unnoticed by Wei Wuxian after all. Or, he supposes, it’s equally likely that Wei Wuxian simply trusts Lan Wangji. Despite their differences, their arguments, it’s possible that Wei Wuxian sees now how ardently Lan Wangji wants him to be safe. How far it seems he’s willing to go to ensure it.

“So what’s the deal, if we leave you keep Wangji here as leverage?” Nie Mingjue barks. Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide as he abruptly realizes he’s lost all control of this conversation and it is heading in a dangerous direction much more quickly than he could have expected.

“Lan Zhan is free to come and go as he pleases, he won’t hurt us. He allowed you to come here with him this time so I assume he trusts you to do the same. But if seeing the truth is going to do absolutely nothing to change what you want and what you’ll help Jin Guangshan accomplish in wiping the Wens off the face of the earth then we’re done here, and you will not be welcome back.”

Lan Xichen can’t deny the dread settling thick and heavy in the pit of his stomach, and only a small portion of it has to do with the resentful energy in the air. Wei Wuxian has proven himself time and time again as a formidable opponent, and while Lan Xichen doesn’t think that it’s necessary to see him as an enemy he knows that the majority of the cultivation world would disagree. It’s plain to see, though, that even should that be the case there’s no force on earth that could turn him aside from the path he’s on. He said it himself – his purpose now is to protect the Wens, and if the cultivation world sees that as a reason for him to die alongside them then he will.

“We’ll help you,” he promises. Rash, perhaps. Uncharacteristically sudden of him, perhaps. But it’s actually not really, in the end. Lan Wangji has been worried about Wei Wuxian ever since that banquet in Jinlintai and his disappearance with the Wens later the same night, and so Lan Xichen has been worried about his brother since the same moment. And not only that, but he still remembers Wei Wuxian as he had once been. Where now it seems everyone wants to paint him as a devil, as an evil mastermind, as a cruel and power-hungry tyrant amassing an army of the dead, all Lan Xichen can see is a young man whose heart has always been kind, who cultivates with evil things he can’t understand but who’s using it to keep a group of helpless people safe. It is not such a sudden change of heart for him to wish to see everyone around him treated well and fairly.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says, startled by his declaration, but Lan Xichen puts a hand on his knee beneath the table, a silent promise to explain himself later.

“We’ll help you. The Lan Sect. What do you need?”

Wei Wuxian is staring at him, mouth hanging open rather comically, and so it’s Wen Qing who speaks up after a moment though Lan Xichen can see in her eyes that she doesn’t trust him yet.

“Food. Blankets for A-Yuan and for the elderly at least. And we want to be left alone.”

“These are the only demands you have?”

“What else could you possibly offer us, Zewu-Jun?”

“Fertile land,” Lan Wangji supplies, eyes beginning to alight with the first dangerous edges of hope. “Protection. Homes.”

“In Gusu?” Wei Wuxian cuts in to ask. There’s weight behind that question, a hostility, but when Lan Wangji looks at him all Lan Xichen can see is his desperation.

I want to bring a man to Cloud Recesses, his brother’s voice echoes softly in the back of his mind. Bring him there and keep him safe.

“It would not have to be permanent, necessarily,” Lan Xichen supplies, hand tensing a little more on Nie Mingjue’s knee when he feels the man shift restlessly beside him. “But it could be. None of this should have happened to you and your family, Wen-guniang. Will you allow the Gusu Lan to begin attempting to make reparations?”

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing look at each other but whatever passes between them in their glances is beyond Lan Xichen’s comprehension.

“I will think about it,” she replies after a moment and Wei Wuxian turns on his heel to put his back to the rest of them, effectively hiding whatever expression he makes in response. “Come back in three days.”

It’s a clear dismissal and so Lan Xichen stands, Nie Mingjue at his side. Lan Wangji doesn’t move, his eyes fixed firmly on Wei Wuxian’s back, but he doesn’t seem to be included in the dismissal anyway. Wen Qing simply leads them to the doorway again where Wen Ning is standing patiently on the steps outside, likely to keep any eavesdroppers away.

“We’re escorting Zewu-Jun and Chifeng-Zun back to town,” she informs him and he falls in quickly at her side.

“Where is Lan-er-gongzi?” Wen Ning asks with a concerned glance over his shoulder. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. He and Wei Wuxian might finally be ready to stop acting like they don’t want to be together,” she replies so flippantly that Lan Xichen is suddenly grateful for Nie Mingjue’s hand at his elbow as he stumbles ever so slightly on the uneven terrain in response.

“O-oh,” Wen Ning stammers out and Lan Xichen is abruptly sure that if it were still possible he would be blushing. “Well that’s nice I suppose. Is Wei-gongzi going to go to Jin Ling’s one-month and see his sister?”

Wen Qing glances back at them at that, though what she’s measuring them for Lan Xichen isn’t exactly sure. “Whose idea was it to have him there?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Wangji’s.”

“Oh yes then I daresay he’ll go no matter if it’s a trap or not,” she remarks so dryly that she actually gets a chuckle out of Nie Mingjue, which is startling to say the least. Lan Xichen looks at him, trying to gauge what he’s thinking, but he’s got his expression carefully locked into stern, unreadable lines. They continue on in silence down the mountain and back to their inn in the town. Only when the Wen siblings have departed and he and Nie Mingjue have retired to their rooms does he unbend enough for Lan Xichen to see that he’s deep in thought.

“Do you think Jin Guangshan truly means to destroy the amulet?” Nie Mingjue finally asks when Lan Xichen has waited him out long enough for him to speak his mind.

“In all honesty no, I do not. At least not right away, and power corrupts. We already know he is a man of vices, it’s no secret that power is one of them.”

“Can you really offer the Wens land and protection without consulting anyone else? The elders, your uncle?”

“It will have to go through more official channels I suppose to actually begin the movement – we’ll need to send resources to keep them clothed and fed while travelling and cultivators to keep them safe, after all. But yes, that is something I can offer them. I will make my case to the elders with what we saw here today, Wangji is my witness, and you could be too. They’re nothing but humble citizens who simply bear the curse of an unfortunate name through no fault of their own. So many Wens have already paid the ultimate price for what Wen Ruohan has done. There’s nothing and nobody in this last remaining group to be so afraid of that they must be eliminated. The only part that should worry the rest of the sects is that Wei Wuxian is at the helm, but their fear of him is slightly misguided as well. I believe once Uncle and the rest of the elders know the truth they will allow such peaceful people to live and work in Gusu.”

“Hm. Well alright then, the Nie will support you.”

That pulls Lan Xichen up short and he stares at Nie Mingjue with undisguised shock. Nie Mingjue at first only raises an eyebrow at him, but after another moment he exhales sharply and shakes his head as if bedeviled by a fly.

“I still don’t like the Wens but I can’t in good conscience lead them to the slaughter. If you want to protect them, then protect them. And I’ll protect you. Maybe we can finally take Jin Guangshan down a notch or two in the process, I definitely won’t be opposed. Nor do I think Jiang Wanyin will take much issue with it either, not if it can get him his brother back. And we already know Jiang Yanli will support anything that repairs Wei Wuxian’s reputation, and Jin Zixuan will support anything that makes Jiang Yanli happy. I’d say the winds are in our favor if we act too quickly for Jin Guangshan to counter it.”

Lan Xichen can still only blink as Nie Mingjue finally cracks his expression to smile ever so slightly and offer him a wink.

“You should have agreed to strategize with me days ago, none of this would have been so surprising, I thought it may become an option. Now it’s just up to Wangji to talk Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing into agreeing.”

“I believe he will find it in himself to be persuasive, and Wen Qing at least is quite sensible. I believe she understands their position well and knows that it is not sustainable for much longer. Or that even if it were, it would be better if their people could get the care and treatment they need to thrive, not just to survive. I believe they’ll agree.”

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t return once during the three days Wen Qing asked for them to wait. On the morning of the fourth day Wen Ning returns for them to bring them back up the mountain where they find Lan Wangji kneeling in the dirt with A-Yuan perched happily in his lap chattering away to Wei Wuxian, who is sitting far closer than necessary to listen as the rest of the Wens bustle around them, hurrying from field to field at a much quicker pace than mere days ago. Wen Qing meets them again at the entrance to the main clearing, arms once again crossed over her chest as she eyes them up like a hawk studying its prey.

“We accept. We’ll all come to Gusu with everything we can carry to start things anew.”

And just like that Lan Xichen gains a new branch of his family in the most unlikely of places.

#the untamed fanfic #Wangxian #Nielan #Lan Xichen #Lan Wangji #Nie Mingjue #Wei Wuxian #Wen Qing #Wen Ning #Prompt fill #I hope this works!#@ everyone who's sent in a request over the last couple of weeks:#I see the requests I promise and I'm trying to come up with stuff to write haha #It's been a busy couple of weeks

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jstarswrites · 2 years

Text

Instant Connection

Part 8

Ahh good old tumblr and their stupid flagging system. I have scribbled over the picture because the first time I posted this they flagged it. Hopefully this works. We shall see. Anyway, Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful day whether you're celebrating or just chilling out while the rest of the world goes crazy.

Enjoy!

Taglist: @nefri-black @puddinsqueen @leyannrae @moonlightreader649 @julipmoon @pineprincess

Part 9

Addendum: the scribbled over picture is just a model boudoir shot. Don't ask me why they felt it violated community guidelines when I've seen worse on this site, but that's a conversation for another time

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #social media au #model!reader #boxer bucky

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courageous-she · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday- Charlie Gillespie

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Requested: Yes.

Hey, I love your work. I was wondering if you could do a chapter with Charlie Gillespie? It's the reader's birthday and Charlie wishes them, something like that? Something romantic and cute! I love your work, keep it up! Have a nice day!

Word Count: 2095

Author’s Note: I hope I did your request justice!

Your birthday. Happened every year, and every year was just as simple as the last. You never expected much, each year you simply went out to dinner with a few friends, the few close friends you had anyway. When you moved to LA, you’d moved away from everything you knew. You moved from your family and your friends; you’d moved away from your comfort.

But you were chasing bigger dreams, and you were willing to give up all you were comfortable with to chase those dreams and make them reality. This meant, however, that your birthday became a small gathering as opposed to the large family celebration you’d become accustomed to. But you weren’t one to complain, and you were just thankful enough that you had made a few close friends in LA to celebrate each new year with. Your friends had become your family and you were so thankful to have each of them in your life.

“Hey, have you started planning out your birthday yet?” your friend Charlie asked. He was one of the first people you’d met in LA, ironically at an audition, and now one of your closest friends.

“Honestly? No, I haven’t put much thought into it. Not really sure if I’m even going to do anything this year. Maybe just movie night…” you replied, thinking about a chill night in with your friends. Charlie turned to face you from where he was sitting on the couch.

“You are absolutely not diminishing your birthday to a lame movie night!” He exclaimed, “We have to do something to celebrate, Y/N”

“It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate, Char, it’s just that birthday parties are a bitch to plan. And then to plan one for yourself…” Every year you took it upon yourself to plan your own party. In the beginning it was because your friends didn’t really know you too well yet. And then every year after that it just seemed easier to organize it all yourself. This year, however, you lacked the energy and motivation to do so.

“I’ll plan it” Charlie replied quickly. You turned your head to face him, eyes questioning his words. You really weren’t sure whether or not he was being serious, but you were going to give him an out either way.

“Charlie, you don’t have to do that. Really, I’m absolutely okay with chilling in my apartment and having a movie night” This was his out, if he was joking about planning a party, the conversation would end here.

“Well, that’s too bad because I’m planning you a party. Keep your eye out for further details” he winked at you. And with that his attention turned back to whatever was playing on the tv.

*****

About a week later, you receive a text from Charlie. This wasn’t unusual seeing as the two of you communicated multiple times a day. What was unusual was the cryptic message Charlie had sent.

Char: Your birthday. 5PM. Easton’s on Whitney. Cocktail Attire ;)

You: Who say’s I’ll even show up?

Char: I’ll pick you up at 4:30 ;)

Welp, there it was. There was no way of avoiding whatever Charlie had planned for your birthday. Though deep down you were excited to see whatever he had planned, nobody had ever taken over your birthday planning. The fact that Charlie felt comfortable enough as your friend to take things into his own hands meant so much to you. With a dress code in place, you began to find an outfit, and with no luck, you headed out to the shops.

*****

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, a soft knock sounded at your front door. Before you could even move to answer it, you heard the door unlatch and soft footsteps make their way to your bedroom. There Charlie stood in white shirt with a suit jacket over top, black bowtie, and black slacks with his signature black vans. His hair was long, but cleanly brushed back out of his face. He was holding five yellow roses in his hand.

“Happy Birthday!” he announced, beyond excited to take you along to the night he had planned for you. He made his was over to you, wrapping his free hand around your waist and placing a kiss on your head. You giggled into his chest, bringing your arms around to embrace him. Charlie pulled away, handing you the flowers.

“Thank you, Char” you said, taking the flowers and smelling the floral scent.

“They’re yellow, for uh- friendship” Charlie said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, a shy smile on his face.

“They’re beautiful, I’ll have to find a vase to put them in later” you said placing the roses down onto your bed. “But for now, I’m ready to see what you have planned for my birthday!” Excitement evident in your voice.

“Good because I’m super excited to show you” he said, grabbing your hand and starting to pull you toward the door. You quickly grabbed your purse and followed along behind Charlie. After a short drive you made it to the restaurant. Having already known where Charlie was hosting your birthday, this wasn’t much of a surprise. What was going to be a surprise was the events that would unfold during the night. Knowing Charlie, it wouldn’t be just a simple dinner with friends.

Charlie pulled the door open for you, leading your through the small entry way with his hand on your back. As your eyes adjusted to the darker lighting of the small restaurant you were very quickly met with a loud “Happy Birthday!”

You stopped walking to take in the people in front of you. There stood your four other closest friends in LA. However, there were more people who made up the group celebrating you. As you looked further, you noticed a few of Charlie’s Julie and the Phantoms cast members who you’d become close with after he filmed the first season. Owen, Savannah, and Tori all stood waving at you from the table.

You turned toward Charlie, a smile plastered on your face and tears brimming in your eyes. Charlie looked down at you with the biggest smile on his face, happy that his first surprise of the night had been a success.

“Charlie, this is amazing! How did you even pull this off?” you asked, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Well, everyone had already been planning to celebrate your birthday, so that wasn’t hard. And Owen, Sav, and Tori all happened to be free this weekend. Mads and Jer send their best, they couldn’t come.” Charlie replied, pulling away from the hug and leading you to the table.

You went around the table greeting all of your friends, and especially thanking Owen, Savannah, and Tori for taking time out of their week to celebrate with you.

“Hey, I’m not one to turn down a good party, Y/N” Owen said, squeezing you into a hug.

“I honestly just had to see if Charlie could pull this off!” Savannah laughed, Tori quickly agreeing, “But no, for real, happy birthday!”

*****

Dinner with your friends was amazing. It was fun to introduce your LA friends with Charlie’s Julie and the Phantoms friends who were now your friends as well. The chaotic energy was radiating throughout the small restaurant.

Occasionally you felt Charlie wrap his arm around you on the top of your chair, his thumb rubbing small circles on your shoulder. You kept turning to him throughout the evening, shooting him a smile letting him know how grateful you were that he’d planned this all for you.

After saying goodbye to each of your friends at the close of the evening, you followed Charlie out to his car. His hand hovered over your lower back as he opened the door for you, placing your presents in the backseat of his orange Subaru.

You turned to the boy as he climbed into the driver seat. “I can’t thank you enough for tonight” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Well, don’t thank me yet, it’s not quite over” he replied, a smirk resting on his face.

“What else could you possibly have in store for me tonight, Gillespie?” you questioned, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat.

“That, I can’t tell you” Charlie finished, winking quickly in your direction before starting to drive.

*****

You’d zoned out during most of the drive, tired from the events that had already occurred tonight. You only began to focus in on your surroundings when you noticed the colorful lights illuminating the dark night. Charlie parked on the side of the road, the sound of the ocean quietly rushing coming from the nearby ocean.

“The pier?” you asked, getting out of the car. Charlie only smiled at you before grabbing your hand and leading you toward the colorful lights.

As the two of you got closer, you took in all the stalls. Some were carnival games; others were food vendors. Charlie stopped the two of you, taking both of your hands in his.

“I remembered something you told me when we first started hanging out.” Charlie said, nervousness evident in his voice, “You said that every year your hometown had a carnival around your birthday, and your family would take you. You said your favorite thing about the carnival was riding the Ferris wheel and seeing the world when you stopped at the top. You said it you felt like you could see everything from up there” He finished. Charlie hadn’t made eye contact with you while he said all this, but when he finished, he looked at you as if you were the only one around.

“I hadn’t realized you were listening.” You said, recalling the night you told Charlie that story, “I thought you had fallen asleep”

“I wasn’t sleeping” he replied bashfully, “I listened to every word. But I thought, to make your birthday even more special, we could continue that tradition?” Charlie asked, holding up two tickets. A smile grew on your face and you pulled Charlie in for a hug. You pulled the boy toward the large, spinning wheel, and got in line.

When it was your turn, you sat down in the small chair, scootching over to ensure Charlie had enough room. Charlie pulled the bar down over your laps and the wheel began to spin. Before the ride, Charlie had been sure to ask the attendant for a few extra minutes at the top, he wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to look at the world.

“You cold?” Charlie asked as the two of you reached the top.

“A little. The breeze is a lot colder up here.” And without hesitation, Charlie removed his dress coat and placed it over your shoulders. You pulled your arms through, wrapping it around your torso. Charlie wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest to help warm you up.

“This has really been the best birthday; I can’t thank you enough Char.” You confessed, looking up at the blue-eyed boy.

“You deserve to be treated like royalty on your birthday, Y/N” he said, voice low. You noticed the way he was looking at you, different from how he normally looked at you. “You deserve to be treated like this every day.” His eyes flickered toward your lips but quickly made their way back to your eyes.

“That would be a bit much, don’t you think?” You asked, giggling at the thought. Charlie chuckled at your light heartedness, however, still somehow remaining serious and sticking to his plan. If he didn’t, he might never do it.

“Not for you” he whispered, slowly moving his lips mere inches away from yours. You inhaled sharply, anticipating his next move. His lips landed on your gently and hesitantly, waiting to see if you would pull away. When you didn’t, he moved his hand to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss.

You pulled away, chest heaving at the lack of oxygen. Charlie looked at you with nervous and expectant eyes. You looked back at him, a smile slowly making its way across your lips, quickly pulling him in to another kiss.

This time Charlie pulled back, resting his forehead against your own.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N”

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deniigi · 3 years

Note

my supervisor fucked me over with all my other coworkers present. can I request a one shot from you to cheer me up featuring Sammy?

Did I give y’all the fic about the hotpot?

Well if I didn’t, I’m giving it to you now.

Title: hotpot

Summary: Ganke checks the comments for the Blindspot comic daily and there’s this one asshole anon who keeps talking shit about BT.

The Blindspot comic went live in the fall and Ganke couldn’t stop checking the hit count every five seconds. All night there had only been ten hits.

He told himself not to be disappointed. The only person who really mattered had read and loved the comic.

Miles said that BT had even forced everyone on the team to read an abridged version of Journey to the West, and had gone as far as to make a quiz to determine everyone’s character.

Miles refused to disclose who he’d gotten.

BT had clearly rigged the game to make himself Sun Wukong and Ganke was proud of him.

That kind of enthusiasm was exactly what he’d been hoping for, anything else now was just icing on the cake.

Even though it would be cool if it wasn’t just BT reading his own comics.

That would be pretty cool, right? Like. If people online all started reading BT’s comic. That would be sort of amazing.

Kind of excellent.

Definitely worthy of an A+ and double pats on the back.

Right?

The hit counter didn’t think so. But hey, five more people had opened the page since last night. That was something, wasn’t it?

MM: dude why not just ask Sam to tweet out the link?

How dare you, Miles Morales.

How dare you waltz into this place with logical thought.

GL: I can’t do that. That’s like. Idk. Inflating the views.

MM: okay yeah explain to me how appealing to the person in control of the largest part of his own fandom is inflating the views

GL: I see your logic and I’m banishing it

MM: I’m messaging him

GL: DON’T

MM: too late

MM: he says ‘gimme link’

GL: asdksjsjdks

@blindspot: hi I know y’all can’t get enough of me to the point of asking shockingly invasive questions and for you I say good news! Some amazing folks have gone through the trouble of making a Blindspot comic. it’s good guys check it out [link]

It helped.

A lot.

It helped a lot.

People, on the whole, had great things to say. The panels were screenshotted and tagged and sent all over social media and even though Miles was pretending to be chill and aloof about the whole thing, Ganke could imagine him smiling big and bright and white at his phone non-stop.

Mom and Auntie saw a few of the bits on Twitter and tittered over them in the kitchen like pigeons.

The pride rose like a wave. Ganke kept waiting for the crash.

It came two days later in the form of a comment that read ‘Christ, look at all this fuss. BT is fine. I hate his brother.’

It felt like someone punching the wind out of Ganke’s lungs.

He took comfort in the handful of people who leapt in to shout down the commenter. They emphasized that if the anonymous commenter didn’t like the story or the characters, then they didn’t have to read it and they, especially, didn’t have to say anything about it.

Ganke appreciated those guys. He got the feeling that a lot of the people on there knew that the whole thing had been done but a couple of kids.

Not that Anon cared.

Anon replied to all these comments ‘No, I’m gonna keep reading, thanks. Anyways, the brother is lame. The smart part is cool, but why’s it always gotta be a guy?’

The part that haunted Ganke even after he’d shut his laptop and had gone to stick his head out the window for some big breaths of cleansing air was that Anon was kind of right.

GL: should we have made Guotin’s brother a sister?

MM: no

GL: why not?

MM: cause BT’s always wanted a brother

Oh.

Okay. Then it was fine?

MM: yeah man ignore them. it’s chill.

GL: k thanks my ego is huge and fragile

MM: trust me I know

Asshole. Fine, moving right along.

It didn’t stop. Anon commented on every page. Every. Single. Page.

Ganke didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, clearly this person was dedicated and deeply engaged with the comic, on the other hand, they needed a Rude Alert button. Ganke wondered if Ned could code one for them and them only.

The latest of their fury was directed at the big reveal in the second issue—BT’s face.

Having now met Sam, BT, Blindspot, Ganke’s whole image of him had changed.

He was not conventionally attractive as far as like, K-Pop idols and famous Chinese dudes went. His eyes were puffy and narrow and his face was round everywhere but the jaw. He leaned more towards ‘cute’ than ‘sexy,’ which Ganke sort of loved about him.

He was friendly. Stressed and grumpy and feisty as hell, yeah, but first and foremost friendly.

Miles claimed that he called it his ‘number one asset in employability.’ Which was wild because hello, Blindspot.

Obviously, BT couldn’t help his face. But Miles and Ganke could help Guotin’s.

Ganke had sent Miles about fifteen different images of Chinese celebrities and had told him to do his worst. They’d reviewed the final few drafts and had picked one that was most like a young Chen Kun. His face was more oval-shaped than BT’s. His chin and lips were slimmer but more defined. He was pretty, but not so pretty as to be called ‘feminine,’ which Ganke thought was a solid compromise between ‘handsome as sin’ and ‘looks like he’s got a quirky sense of humor.’

Anon hated him.

Anon thought that he looked like an idol, and they were not here for it.

They told ‘the artist’ to give him a mole or something, anything to make him look ‘less pristine. God, I can smell him from here and he smells like Dior and staph habitat.’

Ganke had to look up what a staph infection was. He regretted it. He asked Miles if they should censor Anon.

Miles said ‘mmmmm, idk it’s not like they aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.’

Ganke resented that. Clearly this was defamation of BT. This person hated him and was taking their feeling out on the comic.

MM: I mean yeah but it’s not like they’re talking about the comic, man. They’re talking about the style and like, thinking about it, a mole or smth to help you tell him apart from other folks would kind of be helpful. Like, especially if we ever put him in a crowd, you know?

HHHHHH.

Fine.

Anon could stay. But they were on thin ice.

It was hard not to be bitter about Anon’s comments, especially when they arrived daily, as though Anon knew exactly what they were doing and which page they’d left off at. They couldn’t possibly be reading the comic one page at a time, this was intentional.

Ganke’s jaw hurt from all the tooth grinding he’d endured as of late.

This latest one read ‘yo, has BT ever mentioned fighting with a sword? I don’t recall him mentioning. Someone should take that thing away from him before someone loses an eye—or maybe even two.’

That felt like a pointed jibe.

That turned the churning irritation in Ganke’s gut into something much, much colder.

Did Anon know about BT’s black and blue eyes? How could they know? Was it a coincidence? It seemed to be more than a coincidence.

The pile of critiques was growing bigger and bigger, and now that Ganke thought about it, they all seemed to take issue with things that didn’t match the real Blindspot’s personality.

It was as if they knew him.

GL: miles did you read the new comment from AnonTheAsshole?

MM: lol yeah

GL: tell me if I’m talking out my ass or whatever but like

GL: you don’t think they could be Muse, could they?

Silence.

MM: oh no

Yeah. Fuck.

MM: chances are low.

GL: they know so much tho??

MM: might be stalker? Maybe someone who’s over-invested in BT’s social media pages?

GL: maybe.

MM: hold on let me ask Spidey to screen it

GL: does he know Muse?

MM: no, but he’s paranoid and he’ll get Wade to be paranoid with him, and then they can decide whether its worth giving to DD for verification. He knows Muse.

Ganke’s head was spinning. His fingers shook with guilt and the thought of Muse’s pale body hunched over a secret, cracked cell phone in a high security prison who knew where.

In Ganke’s head, he smiled wider and wider, until the skin on his cheeks cracked. He dug out scraps of paper and redrew Blindspot—Sam—with gaping holes for eyes and a screaming mouth and he drew dismembered corpses in black lakes and he laughed.

He just kept laughing.

MM: hey ganke

MM: it’s going to be okay. It’s just a comic. I’m sure AnonTheAsshole is a stalker. They’re not threatening anyone.

MM: Sam can deal with a stalker. And we can too, okay?

There was a reason that Miles was a hero. Ganke wiped at his eyes and swallowed.

GL: okay. Thanks for doing that.

MM: 👍🏾

It took a few hours because Spidey and Deadpool had lives outside of being Spidey and Deadpool, but not so long that Ganke ran out of nails to chew.

Miles messaged him back and said that Spidey had read through everything and ‘escalated it.’ This meant that whatever he’d seen had caused him enough concern to take it to DP.

Miles said that he’d get back to Ganke with DP’s verdict as soon as he had it. In the meantime, he’d run the comments by the other Spideypeople and they thought that it most likely wasn’t malevolent but was maybe something to keep an eye on in the meantime. He tacked onto all, somewhat stiltedly, that he had a weird feeling all of the sudden. The pink Spidey’s tone had changed. She’d shut down and gone cagey, which allegedly wasn’t like her at all. Then she’d told the taller guy to DM her and they’d vanished from the chat. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on there or if maybe they knew something about stuff going on that he didn’t, but he wasn’t super comfortable with it.

GL: crossing my fingers its nothing?

MM: same man, same.

DP escalated it.

Ganke couldn’t stay still in his room. There was no comfortable place to sit or stand or lay. There was nothing to do that would make him stop thinking about everything.

MM: It’s gonna be fine, man, DD always knows what to do.

Miles kept saying that for every step of the way, and yet here they were. Double escalated. Ganke wasn’t so sure he even knew what was happening anymore.

That was scary. Miles was supposed to be part of the in-crowd.

MM: Wade doesn’t think it’s anything that can’t be nipped in the bud.

That was easy for a contract assassin to say, wasn’t it?

MM: he says that you and I are fine. Doesn’t see any links there. Waiting on DD for confirmation of tone.

Hurry up, Daredevil. Your apprentice’s life might be about to take a nosedive into a heap of trash.

Two hours. One text.

MM: >:/

Ganke couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter.

GL: good news?

MM: [image]

He opened it.

SC: HANNAH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. STOP BEING A BITCH ON MAIN

HC: You can’t tell me what to do

SC: I CAN

HC: Mom he’s being MEAN

SC: Mom she’s scaring children online

HC: I scare children everywhere I go why are these ones special???

SC: Because I said so

HC: that doesn’t fucking work Samuel you’re not her

SC: I am your older brother

SC: your ELDEST brother

HC: YOU AINT SHIT

SC: THEY DON’T COUNT

SC: HALFSIES COUNT

What.

MM: so.

MM: she’s not Muse.

MM: Red’s laughing his ass off at all of us for taking this to a level three

GL: wait I don’t understand

MM: Hannah is Sam’s little sister. She’s found a new hobby in our website.

Blindspot’s little sister was reading the comic??? Holy shit.

GL: she hates him?

MM: no I’ve been informed that they would literally commit murder for each other but this is how they express love.

No way. Siblings were wild.

GL: so we’re good?

MM: [image]

SC: apologize 🔪

HC: eat my ass

SC: apologize or else

HC: or else what? You gonna come in here and sit on me? Huh? Huh????

SC: I know your email password. All 3 you cycle through. What was his name? Uuuuuuuuuh Jing?

HC: you fucking bastard

SC: Hi Jing, it’s me, Hannah. I’ve been in mad crush with you since sophomore year. Please notice me senpai 😖

HC: Die

SC: kill me

HC: I will.

The giggles that came this time were a mix of relief and genuine intrigue. This lady read the comic every day. She took the time to scroll through pictures of her brother being an absolute lunatic and fighting with a huge monkey. Then she hopped into that comment box and took him—not Miles, not Ganke, specifically Blindspot--down a peg.

She must miss him a lot. Ganke wondered if this was her way of keeping him in her thoughts.

MM: I don’t think we’re getting a sorry, man. DD says Sam’s been at this all morning and has been tricked into apologizing himself twice

GL: so you’re saying that she’s an evil genius

MM: idk but she’s def Sam’s main nemesis. I always thought that older siblings got like, rights or something over younger ones, but idk anymore. Angel says this is normal.

GL: do you think she misses him?

Miles took a long time to respond.

MM: yeah

Yeah, Ganke thought so, too.

GL: should we change Guo tin’s brother’s name to ‘hamish?’

MM: ASDLDSDSFKdsjf

MM: one moment.

MM: sam says yes. Hannah says that she thinks our comic is shit and we need to draw everything uglier

GL: she’s kind of funny

MM: 👀perhaps she would like to be a consultant?

GL: 👀👀👀👀

MM: brb asking

MM: sam says no. Hannah says she’s got better things to do than proofread comics on the internet. She’s also not sorry. She wants that to be clear. DD says that the conversation has moved from English to Chinese and to maybe duck and cover for now. He says all is good tho. Thanks for checking in.

MM: Muse doesn’t use punctuation and talks in riddles, so if we get any of that, we’re supposed to send it to DP right away.

Oh, nice. That was a relief.

MM: oh

MM: sam wants to put us in a chat. Can I give him your number?

Uh, only if he wanted Ganke to hyperventilate.

GL: sure

[GL has been added to a Secure Chat]

It was a page of characters and emojis that were somehow more menacing than Ganke had ever seen them before. Miles popped a little waving hand into the fray, as though testing the waters, but the characters just carried on scrawling around it.

Ganke wasn’t quite sure what to do.

GL: hi? Are y’all okay?

There was finally a pause. Then a few shorter lines of characters. And then finally, Blindspot switched from Chinese to English.

SC: yes we’re FINE. We’re GREAT. Aren’t we, sibling from hell?

HC: who’re you? Why are you in our family chat? This is a family only zone, can’t you read?

SC: God Hannah he’s Korean don’t be a dick

HC: I can’t not be I learned it from you

SC: fair but pretend in the face of company

HC: okay fine. Hello losers.

MM: adksadfadsdfldfsldf

MM: hi

GL: hi?

SC: go on

HC: UGH

HC: fine

HC: I didn’t mean to shit talk your creation. Only my brother.

SC: also a sin, we’ll get to that later

HC: no one cares about you Samuel, stop spreading lies

SC: you first. We both know this is no lie, my white dad cares about me a whole lot

HC: well we can’t all have white dads now can we

SC: don’t be jealous

MM: lol you really call Matt your white dad??

HC: who is this person and how do they know our mutual parent’s name?

SC: this is not a mutual parent situation how many times have we been through this. He’s mine. Get your own.

MM: hi! 👋🏾I’m Bitsy! Spidey no. 4

GL: I’m his friend. He draws the comic. I write it.

HC: oh. nerd children x2

HC: anyways yeah Matt is our dad

SC: ffs

MM: he’s sort of dadly ig.

HC: ?? oho

SC: mind your face. Think about your face. Think about how much you like your face.

HC: little spider, did you not hear?

SC: kay everyone out. We’re done here

MM: hear what?

HC: lol Sammy you didn’t tell them about how Matthew Mcconaughey adopted you in all ways but paperwork?

Ganke held his phone away from his face as far as it would go.

MM: …wait are you for real?

SC: no. okay out.

HC: awwww Sammy so shy now. What are you embarrassed about? It’s cute.

SC: Hannah literally shut up I’m not playing

HC: damn okay sorry

MM: can I be honest?

SC: no

MM: I’m going to be anyways: I think we all sorta knew.

SC: …

HC: right?

SC: what does that even mean?

MM: idk, it just felt right, you know? You two are always fussing at each other and red lost his shit that time you got shot. He doesn’t treat you the way he treats the rest of us and we’re his teammates. He doesn’t even treat spidey like he treats you. So like, yeah. It fits.

MM: I’m really happy for you guys.

MM: is there a reason it’s a secret?

Ganke eased himself back down onto the mattress. This was real. This was like, actual, real information. Something that he and like, four other people in the world now knew.

He kind of wanted to forget it. It didn’t feel right to know.

SC: I dunno.

HC: if sam has an honest emotion towards anything he has to calculate its weight so he can make space for it in his collection of satellites.

MM: wh

SC: you’re so not funny.

HC: it’s called emotional repression, darling. It’s all the rage in this family.

MM: oh

MM: so that’s why you and Red get on so well

SC: HHHHHHH

HC: HA

SC: okay but listen his is different, I’ve only seen him cry at his wedding. I cry at least 4 times a week. Obviously under the bed, but that can’t be emotional repression. That’s expression. That’s clearly expression

HC: I can make the old man cry watch me

SC: please don’t I’ll die

MM: awwwww

SC: shut up it doesn’t even matter.

MM: AWWWWWW

SC: LEAVE ALREADY

MM: no I like it here. I want to hear you talk about how much you love your white dad

SC: I don’t. He loves me. I’m fine with this because it results in food, shelter, and continued employment.

HC: uh huh

SC: I’m using him

HC: yeah because you’re like the most manipulative person I know.

SC: thank you

HC: /sarcasm

SC: I know I ignored it.

MM: so wait why do you actually pretend like you hate him tho?

SC: wh

SC: what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just go on up for a cuddle? Have you met Matt? The second someone starts crying, he finds trash to take out to the bins. Hell no. Life is easier for everyone if I stab him with a stick and he kicks my ass in training. It’s fine.

HC: Sam is learning how to be a Manly Man. This is step one.

SC: I’m plenty manly

HC: you’re what mom imagined as manly

SC: which is perfect. That’s all I need.

HC: mama’s boy

SC: must suck to suck, no one’s kid.

Wow. Ganke had never been more glad that he didn’t have a sister.

GL: That’s kind of cool, though.

GL: that you and DD are close like that I mean.

GL: Its different from all the other mentor/mentee superheroes we see who like, sort of hate each other.

SC: wh

SC: OH. you mean Peter and Kate. Peter doesn’t actually hate Stark, fyi. And Kate calls Hawkeye the Old bi-weekly to make sure he’s still breathing. It’s actually pretty normal.

MM: he doesn’t mean like that Sam. I mean, like those guys don’t associate with their Olds now that they’re grown up and stuff, but you and DD stick together. It’s like you’re family.

MM: and that’s super cool. Idk if Spidey would ever consider me family. I don’t think he wants that for us.

SC: I?

SC: oh shit

HC: CLARITY ON THIS FINE DAY. What was your name again, tiny spider?

MM: miles

HC: PRAISE BE TO MILES

HC: AN EMOTION WAS HAD

SC: get fucked

HC: An epiphany was obtained!

SC: would you shut up

HC: Something has finally permeated that non-porous, two-inch thick skull of my esteemed eldest brother

SC: I’m your only brother

HC: you’re not

SC: they don’t fucking count

HC: now will you FINALLY invite our mutual dad to hotpot?

SC: Hannah he doesn’t want to come to hot pot we’ve talked about this. it’s too spicy for him.

HC: I’ll make it 1/3 less spicy

SC: that’s still too spicy

HC: I’ll make it 2/5 less spicy

SC: 3/5

HC: listen

HC: I have all this fucking equipment that SOMEONE left here callously

MM: what’s hotpot?

SC: 👀

HC: 👀

GL: 👀

SC: well fuck

HC: EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

GL: have we never taken you with us for hotpot???

MM: no?? is this the sticks?

HC: can be. Where do you live?

SC: Hannah no

HC: Hannah yes. We’ll make one here. You’ll make one there.

SC: do you know how much shit I’ll have to buy? Where are we gonna put it?

HC: this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d taken your goddamn inheritance with you to SF

SC: HHHHHH

MM: you guys are actually being serious?

HC: I am. I am here all on my lonesome. Abandoned by my only kin. I require enrichment.

SC: try doing your fucking homework

HC: did anyone hear something?

MM: lololololol I like you

HC: 😊

SC: wh

SC: oh no. No no no.

SC: you two don’t get to be friends

HC: come here bb pspspspspspsps

MM: I’m here

HC: got ‘im. Let’s have hotpot. Sammy send me resippy. We’ll do it together over video so I don’t fuck it up.

SC: I’ve got to go. This has been traumatizing.

HC: byeeeeeeeeeeee

HC: is he gone? Hell yeah, he’s gone.

HC: hey thanks for making that comic thing. It’s hella rad. He loves it. Mom used to call him Monkey when he was little.

GL: omg aw

HC: ikr? P cute. He misses her a lot so I think it brought back good memories. Anyways, I’m actually going to make hotpot. Come over and have some with me, it’s more fun with more people.

MM: you’re not joking

HC: nope, it’s been ages since your whole team has gotten together, right? Ask them to do it. I’m a shit cook, but Sam’ll show us how not to screw it up. And he’s playin’, he’s totally down to hang out with us. We never had more than three people. It’ll be new. Exciting. Enriching even.

MM: are you secretly a nice person, Hannah?

HC: the fuck do you mean ‘secret’??? I’m a delight.

MM: Okay I’ll ask the team and my mom

MM: ganke?

HC: 👀

That—

Sounded kind of nice?

GL: I’ll ask my mom.

HC: nice. You can tell them that it’s a friends dinner or whatever. Idc. I promise I’m not going to kidnap and murder you. I’ve got like, class and work and shit. I don’t have time for that.

MM: 👍🏾

GL: 👍🏼

HC: great here I’ll message you my number. This is legit our sibs chat so Sam’ll freak if you’re still here when he gets back.

MM: thank you! And sorry for thinking you were muse!!

GL: yeah that too

HC: lol np ttyl

That…had really just happened, hadn’t it?

Ganke needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down.

GL: they’re so nice???

MM: ikr?

GL: are you actually going to ask your mom?

MM: Im gonna ask BT if its cool first. Then yeah. Why not? Our team really hasn’t gotten together in a minute. Everyone’s been super busy. It would be a nice change of pace, and if everyone brings smth then Hannah doesn’t have to pay for anything.

MM: ah, Sam says it’s okay. He says sorry his sister is weird and that he’ll make sure she doesn’t poison us.

GL: I kind of love her

MM: same

MM: okay will check in with the others. Talk to you later.

GL: yeah see you later

Damn, at this rate, Ganke’s family was going to triple in size, and all thanks to a comic.

Before he left for downstairs, he made a note to make Guo tin’s brother snarkier.

#fic #inimitable verse #blindspot #samuel chung #miles morales #ganke lee

189 notes · View notes

sardonicallys · 3 years

Text

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿

mobile masterlist | web masterlist

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Band Singer AU!Jaebeom + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Fluff, Touch of Angst

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Pining Over an Ex

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: When spring melts away the exuberance of winter, you're left collecting what was supposed to bring an abundance of blossoms only to find it somewhere closer to summer.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7,124

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: I wanted to wish a happy birthday to @bart-man! Thank you again for being my very first comment, it means the world to me. I hope you enjoy my little gift to you. I hope this fulfilled the request you had for me!

I have a note at the end that details a little bit of my inspiration for this work.

Just slight of snowfall, there is a deafening silence that consumes every noise for distances into a hushed whisper that withers away like how your breath does when it fogs glass panes, only ever lasting just a moment before being frozen back over. Whether it is because the cold captures your throat so aggressively that you do not allow your words to go to waste or because the wonder in the way snow drifts from the sky as if the stars were trickling down the navy sheet — a secret to whoever was cutting holes and letting the light from the other side seep in — there was something sacred about snowfall.

It was sacred in the way that climate used all its forces to brew together a prayer that included chill, humidity, and rain. Although it was an occurrence partially guaranteed, there was something about the anticipation of the glimmering flurries that never allowed one to relinquish that breath of waiting. Right before the first snowfall every year, there would be a period of continuous rain, blanketing Seoul in the melancholy ash skies that delivered the premature wish of winter. Though you hadn't minded it much in the past, recent years have made your commute strategically difficult.

The word is petrichor, but it smells more like the way you imagine a wet stray dog does when you're on the subway, crammed with the aromatic hints of human and pollution. The end of your day had already arrived as the sun bid farewell just before you shuffled down the steps into the train tunnel — not that you could have seen it from the thick masts of cotton that shrouded the sky — but nonetheless you were ready to be back in the comfort of your home. Checking your watch, you listened to the speaker announce the next stop, just one away from your own, while you shifted against the bar you were propped up against. Your feet were pulsing from your pinched heels that were a sorry excuse for support while you stood all day. The door slid open as you arrived at your stop, led by the wave of others, you headed with the current before resurfacing to the street. Sliding your umbrella out from its cover and launching the automatic release mechanism, you carried it over your head as you scurried down the street and towards the alley of your neighborhood. Right as you hit the home stretch, it occurred to you that your excitement to wash away the day's customer rants and murky rain had to be halted when you remembered your refrigerator was empty. Cursing yourself for not picking something up at a convenience store — now a ways away — and knowing that at this hour, there were no restaurants within a block you could simply order from, you marched back towards the main street.

Had you decided to simply starve that night, perhaps you would have never had the chance to meet him. It's an extreme way to express how you had spun the situation a million times over, wondering if there could have perhaps been a different outcome, but the resulting factor was that it had already happened and there was nothing you could have done to stop it. There was no reason to linger on something that was no longer tangible, even if somewhere in the crevices of your thoughts, you continued to do so. As you exited the store, produce in tow, the rain had subsided and instead exchanged you for the falling starlights of snow. Dragged by the weight of your groceries and captivation to stay just a bit longer to watch the flakes drift from the sky, you stalked up the hill towards your apartment building. Neck craned to observe the particles coming into full view, you could have completely missed the stranger on the corner who was plucking away at his guitar. The strums pulled your focus the same way his fingers tugged at the steel, and you listened to the way he posed his voice like the flakes above — cold and clean, but somehow it felt like he was praying. To who or what, you weren't sure, but honestly you didn't need to know. It's was methodical, soothing, and every note of his melody had meaning.

That's how he said your name too, months later when you had decided you were irrevocably in love. A plethora of songs written like love letters delivered to your ears, the subtle intimate moments where he stared at you between mundane actions like sharing dinner or reading a book. And he kept you warm through the winter, you like to think. You like to think he wasn't the chill that left you shivering, alone, when he finally melted away come spring. You like to think that the sudden gap in messages — your fair warning that you did not heed to because you were in love, blinded by the spell of snow — that spanned at first, as a daily occurrence and slowly grew into a weekly one, and then none at all, were all because he was busy. But when the crashing wave of realization came to you, you liked to think, you weren't thinking at all. Because maybe you weren't. Maybe, none of this had happened, and you were simply dreaming through the illusion of winter. None of your friends had a chance to meet him anyways since your schedules never quite lined up, so perhaps, he was less like waking up to a blanket of snow and more like watching flakes melt the moment they kissed the pavement. Maybe you weren't cold enough to keep him, or worse, too warm to preserve.

"Please, please please, you missed every lunch date we have had for months," you listened carefully to your friend, her voice carrying with desperation into your receiver as you somberly smiled, "The least you can do is let us have dinner with you for your birthday!"

What was there to celebrate? You had finally stopped living in a delusion and blaming yourself for the disappearance of someone who you thought you may have had a future with, but other than that, you still lacked the confidence to be fully present with others because it wasn't necessarily that he left but more that you waited, made up excuses, and tenderly hoped for something that deep down you knew wasn't going to happen. You felt foolish, and honestly, swallowing laughter was stiffening your facade. Never quite gaining the courage, you had told everyone around you that you both realized you were no longer interested in whatever relationship you were cultivating. It wasn't their fault, but the timing never felt right and how could you possibly seek comfort when your short and quick burn of a relationship would only earn responses even neighbors and passerby's could offer.

Oh that's too bad. You deserve better. I'm sure there's plenty of fish in the sea.

You didn't want to hear these generated answers pointed to your aimless plight, so you stayed silent and nursed your wounds on your own.

"I don't know, you know the shop has been busy lately," your excuse is mumbled as you peer up to check if a customer would magically fabricate and you could use them as a way to hang up, unable to continue lying.

"Someone can cover the evening shift I'm sure. You always go in so early just to do all those arrangements anyways," you hear a pout on her mouth as her whines increased.

"It's best to do them fresh or the flowers will wilt!" Chuckling softly as you twirled a piece of ribbon around your finger, a silence drifted between you two, "Please, I know you have been busy, but I miss you."

I miss you too.

But you didn't have the heart to see the faces of your friends, not when it took everything in you not to feel the rushing rapids of emotions that were still tittering between apathy and desperation. You found yourself crying into cups of coffee when it tasted too sweet, or when you arranged roses in a vase and the light bent against the convex glass. You felt frustrated and rage filled while you emptied the laundry drum and the clothes were sopping wet because you put it on the wrong setting, and even more upset when you'd see the milk would expire next week. Nothing felt like anything and yet felt like everything, all at once.

"Just for your birthday," the soft whisper of your friend emitted as you sighed, succumbing to your people pleasing antics, "Okay. Just dinner though."

And it was just supposed to be dinner. Everyone promised you. That is, until they all got drunk off the wine that was at the table and begged you with slurred speech to go to some bar with them. You should have figured honestly, but trapped between the loving affection of your missed company and the guilt that you had been deceiving them with a smile all night, you begrudgingly accepted. There was some popular live band playing, so your friends had been thrilled that they got to snag a table just early enough before the place got packed, but for you, this was how you began concocting your escape plan, oh sorry, I got lost in the crowd and couldn't make it back in! easy.

Execution was key here, and commencing meant to perfect your timing. Any misstep and you'd be sent back to this table, to your detriment, where you may have to remain all night. This was your limit, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold up. While the band was setting up on stage, you managed to keep up your air of confidence amongst your drunken friends — whether you were actually good at acting or they were just too shit faced to notice didn't really matter at this point. Sipping through half your ombre cocktail that didn’t have enough juice, you managed to hold out through the first song of their set before mentioning to your friend beside you that you were headed to the bathroom. As they arranged themselves to let you out — smart that they trapped you between the wall and table — you took a deep breath before brisking towards the crowd.

An unsolicited but familiar shout of your name ruptured through the murmurs from the crowd, through the melodic guitar strums and echoing high hats, through your body as — by nature — you halted and swung your head towards the owner of the voice. Fingers wound tightly around the strap of your clutch, your eyes met with your winter, with your snow, with your melted river that had departed to the ocean. But the voice didn't come from him it came from her, an acquaintance of yours that you only associated with because of a friend of a friend of a friend, or something like that. You can't even remember her name, honestly. Here she was, the degrees of separation so much closer than you thought, with her arms hung from someone who was now a stranger to you. It took you a moment to meet her gaze, so fixated on him as if you were finally met with a reality check, a reminder that he did indeed exist. At least, at one point.

"I knew it was you! Hey!" The chiding excitement in her voice indicated booze before you even needed to lean in and inhale it. Peeling her arms of him, she embraced you in an awkward hug as you patted her back gently, some weird sick feeling of comforting her for this compromising situation that scrapped your escape route entirely. While being held by the drunken almost stranger, you looked over at him to see a deep rooted wall between you, this creation of amnesia that erased your existence from his knowledge all by choice. It was in the way he directed his gaze past you as if you had not been standing there, in the arms of his — new? — lover. You were so entranced by this warmth, this coddling from someone you would have least expected to see in contrast to the cold chill that you were delivered from the eyes of a stranger who once loved every inch of you. Pulling away, you heard her pipe up, "What are you doing here?! Is everyone else here?"

You can't remember what you responded that had her gingerly waving as she dragged along her love — perhaps you directed her to the table where everyone was waiting — but you suddenly had no energy to leave. No energy to go back, but none to move you from that very spot. If there weren't a crowd of individuals surrounding you, wedging your weight from one to another, you may have collapsed right there. You wondered if this was the ultimate form of jealousy, where every atom in your being had suddenly felt like it did not belong to you, but it wasn't necessarily part of anything else either. The feeling of isolation in your own vessel, so hardened and cold, that even if you wanted to lash out at her, there would be no reason to. Not because he didn't belong to you anymore, or that the way you watched them walk away reminded you of how you two once were, it was simply because you did not want to be here. Not at this bar. Not in these clothes. Not in this body, not in this mind. You suddenly felt such a detachment to every identifiable piece of you, and all at once nothing mattered.

Was it your ego speaking? Is this really how you felt? You were unsure, but now at the bar, nestled in your very own corner with three shots and eight cocktails in, the numbness was the only emulation of what you could find befitting for your current state of mind. It helped that the band was actually as good as your friends mentioned, your head swaying to the beat as you giggled to yourself in reminiscent memories that floated through your eyes, the thick and viscous waft of nostalgia rendering your current state useless. Had you been just slightly sober, you would have realized the tears that festooned your waterproof mascara — thank goodness for makeup that repelled any kind of liquid right? The bartender had pitied you, watching as you cried between each sip of your drink, and really didn't have the heart to shoo you away.

While the band announced an intermission, the lead singer shuffled down the steps and towards the counter eagerly to finally grab a drink he had been promised since the start of the set. Had he not overslept, he would have been buzzed like the rest of his bandmates, but his fucked sleeping schedule said otherwise. Dropping into one of the stools, he propped his elbows up while leaning into the counter to read the labels that were doused in fluorescent blue lights. Gaze trailing up and down like he was scouring a crossword puzzle until his eyes fell onto you — head against the wall and glass cradled in your hand. Honestly, it would have been more surprising if he hadn't noticed the mourning individual — you — in the corner. Peering towards the bartender in an attempt not to make you feel so conspicuous, he ushered her over to order.

"Is she okay?" muttering quietly as his drink was being prepared, she nodded softly in response before whispering back, "I don't want to bother her, she seems like she wants to be alone."

"...What happens when it's time for closing?"

"I hope she leaves by then," pouring the caramel tinted liquor over the block of ice as it cracked against the glass, she tucked a napkin beneath it before pushing it towards him.

"You hope? You know how emotional drunks are, Somin."

"Yeah yeah, I know I know, but she looks harmless."

"Looks," rolling his eyes, he took a sip of his drink as she ran the faucet, wetting her hands and retorting, "You know, I kicked your drunk ass out of here all by myself, Jaebeom. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Ooo, scary," feigning a shocked expression, he stole another glance at you, your head propped up from your palm, your elbow a makeshift stand against the counter. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he knew how you felt, a man with a mess of a relationship track record where he was notorious for giving a little too much for those who never gave enough. But he wasn't one to impose on others, he told himself, so he simply observed you.

"Besides, today is her birthday."

"...You're joking."

"Nope," Somin lifted the license that was in her possession to hold the tab before reading the month and date out.

"How can you be sad on your birthday?" It's sort of rhetoric, but in many ways, it left an acrid taste in the back of his throat knowing just how many melancholy birthdays he had spent — probably more than his current lifetime. Taking another sip of his drink, he wondered what kind of night you had that led you here, somewhere full of people but longing for solitude. You were traveling through your own daydreams, though, whimpering by yourself and unable to notice that there was another individual at the bar, even with how deeply he stared at you — or even the other two that were approaching you from behind.

"Hey! You know everyone was looking for you," the acquaintance of yours who you still could not manage to name happened to find you for the second time that night. Your rationale was running low, however, and had you not been wearing waterproof makeup layered beneath a waterfall of setting sprays and baked on powder, perhaps she would have seen how tormented you truly were, "They left already, but if you want, my boyfriend and I have a table!"

Something about the new strangers that approached the frame suggested to Jaebeom that these weren't your friends, your body language warping in discomfort. The dried tears were preparing to resurface as you straightened yourself out, hoisting in your throat, a polite way to decline without turning int a sobbing mess. Your boyfriend, huh? You had so many questions you wanted to ask, these words you could not find swimming in the depth of your skull between the cocktails and old, meaningless song lyrics. Your inquiries fall into your hands and slip past like snow, disappearing at your touch. You must have stayed quiet too long because you see your acquaintance's face light up, "Oh! Speaking of which, where is your boyfriend?" Craning her head around excitedly, it takes all your strength not to let your jaw fall open. Teeth clenched, you cursed whoever mentioned to her that you were seeing someone, and even more fervently that they failed to include that you had stopped seeing him.

Jaebeom wasn't one to eavesdrop — nearly always disassociated to his surroundings — but he had heard more than enough. Reading beyond just this interaction, he had a few assumptions that he could safely make. Honestly, he definitely didn't have enough to drink just yet to attempt the brewing plot he had patchworked together in his mind, but perhaps he felt pity for you. There was something familiar about your feelings and how they surfaced, so in some ways, he thought of it as saving himself. Downing the rest of his glass of whisky, he stood up and strode over towards where you were, affectionately running his fingers up your arm and around your shoulders, "Are these your friends?"

"...Wait! Oh my God why didn't you say you were dating the lead singer?!" The tone of her voice is absolutely thrilled and starstruck but you're unable to register what is going on, the amount of liquid depressant in your system truly slowing every moment down. The only thing you capture is the face of your ex contorting with some tinge of disgust you are unable to quite fathom. Unsure if it was directed towards you or your acquaintance's reaction, you peered up at the stranger who was holding you — ready to deny his claim and inform him that he had the wrong person.

"You didn't introduce me, love?" Looking directly at you, the jolt of his gaze is so immersive you felt your breath diminish — unsure if it left your lungs or simply combusted, "...Sorry."

You're not even sure why you apologized.

"No wonder you didn't want to sit with everyone!" Having a conversation all on her own, you're unable to figure out a way to evaporate, so focused on wanting to disappear at this very moment as if manifesting your wishes would be instantaneous. The discomfort of the heated glare Jaebeom felt from the other male confirmed his suspicions — that's who she's crying over huh. But according to this interaction, it seems they're the only ones who knew of their secret. So he played along.

"I have one more set to play, can you wait for me?" You simply nodded in response, suddenly deaf and mute to your surroundings, particularly because of the way he created this energy around you that made you feel so overwhelmed with warmth and focus, it emulated the flare of sun when your eyes just didn't quite dilate enough. Watching the stranger trail back up the stage, your acquaintance and ex had disappeared back into the crowd, while you replayed the events as if you were watching someone else in your mind.

The velvety vocals that matched the nylon strums yanked your haggard thoughts that were swimming in the volatile pit of your core sloshing with flammables, recapturing your dazed confusion. Though you had vaguely remembered enjoying the vocalist's performance earlier — or what you could manage to recall from it — the shapes and color from the sounds spun more effortlessly in your mind, your focus long gone from your self pity and now redirected to the honey dipped tones of the stranger. You both captured one another's gaze as you felt an elusive moment where the spotlight carried on his presence amongst the crowded bar, hazed with smoke and laughter that wasn't meant for anyone in particular. There must have been something in your drink, because you swore you were going to be sick with the onslaught of this rush. Thank God you were well trained in autopilot, if there was a degree for it you'd have the highest prestige. Before the end of the last song, you managed to crawl out of your trance — barely — while your body carried you towards the exit.

Trudging through the crowd proved to be more difficult than you initially anticipated as the wave crashed towards the barricade of the stage. The shortness of breath that constrained your throat and lungs confused and manipulated your directional sense, every time you managed to spot the blaring neon sign that led back outside, you lost it between the swarms of people. It really didn't help that your vision was an impressionable vertigo from your reckless regard to how much you could actually handle drinking. It felt like you were swimming, except the current was stronger than you were — waded through the crowd like a piece of mere driftwood and much less like a person. You empathized with the emptiness of the inanimate object though, stumbling along before feeling your arm hooked by a firm hand right as you managed to escape the labyrinth swarm, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

It seemed so much harsher than it sounded, but you were relieved there was some sort of humanity between the sea of people. You had been told long before that sometimes things that were desperately trying to be seen, would be, even if they weren't in plain sight, "I need to go."

"You owe me one," the singer gently dropped your arm as you shifted your weight between your heels, awkwardly, unable to figure out a proper response between the repetitive numbness of the beating drum against your skull and the fact that his gaze was just as warm now as it was earlier.

"Look, I appreciate it, really, what you did back there," vaguely gesturing towards the bar you took a short step back, "But I really need to go."

Honestly, Jaebeom would have let you go had he not watched you be jostled between the crowd during your attempted leave. At this point, he questioned if you knew just how drunk you were, the pupils of your eyes blown to a pretty deep dilation but painted with a backdrop of red he assumed came from the dehydration and your cry fest from earlier.

"Where?"

You don't know how to answer him, "...Just, just anywhere, not here."

"Then let's go together, Cinderella."

You liked to think that the amount of loneliness outnumbered your logical reasoning one hundred — no, one thousand to one. There were no fronts to put up because this was a complete stranger who didn't even know your name but his recognition seemed to be just high enough that if something were to happen to you, there would be no way he could simply disappear from the consequences. Your decision to trust him is rather vague, but you don't have the ability to really question it. It doesn't take you long to decide and he sees the flame of interested that burrowed into your pupils as you both disappear backstage and out the door towards the parking lot where you see some of his bandmates loading up a van full of their equipment and instruments.

"Let me take the car," directed towards them, he helped lift an amp into the trunk before one of them scoffed, "Hell no. You're not going off to get laid this time, Jaeb."

Other than the two conversing, you heard laughter and couldn't help but feel the infectious spark that coaxed you to do so too even if you were the butt of the joke, technically. Eyes rolling, the singer nudged him aside as they took apart a mic stand together, "I'm not, I wanted to get her home."

The sudden looks you received from every band member had you awkwardly pulling the hem of your skirt down as you tittered in place, trying to keep still but your vision still hazy.

"You know if you're so jealous of Jaebeom getting laid, maybe you should try singing, you always say the lead singer is the one that gets it in," a different person attempted to continue the joke while you swung you bag in front of you, letting it tap at your knees. So his name is Jaebeom.

"Seriously, please? It's her birthday—"

"...Oh?" They simultaneously looked at you again as you flinched in place, half paying attention to the conversation but mostly just listening to the chattering of those who stepped out for a smoke, "...Huh?" Registering what they were talking about, your brows knit in confusion, "Wait, how did you know it was my birthday?"

"You forgot to pick up your bar tab, sweetheart," Jaebeom held your license up between his thumb and index, waving it around as you suddenly felt your lungs crash into the pit of your stomach. As if this night couldn't get any worse, you really were making yourself out to be the best fool you could concoct. Whether or not you decided it was a good idea to have followed him, you realize now that it wouldn't have mattered because he had your ID. Though, he didn't seem hostile? Or so you hoped.

Finally given a set of surrendered keys, you climbed into the small two door with Jaebeom as the others told you both to be safe and ushered you away, "No more pretty girls exclusively for you after tonight, Jaeb!" The comment had left your cheeks flushed, hidden only beneath the well applied makeup. After dropping your license into your lap, he pulled out onto the main street while you peered at him curiously, "...You're not holding my ID for, I mean, as a...As hostage?"

"Why would I do that?" Wrinkling his nose, he stole a glance at you before laughing and rolling the windows down to let the warm evening air waft in while you slipped the card onto one of the pockets of your clutch, "...You came along all on your own, didn't you?"

And the flush on your face must have deepened, whether you could spot it or not, you felt it. Well, it was either that or the alcohol spiking in your system as you felt your mouth go dry and that tunneled dizziness set in hard while in the moving vehicle. Jaebeom must have noticed because he kept peering at you, gently placing a hand on your knee as you got quiet, "Hey, you good?"

"...I feel sick."

Not wanting to make a mess out of the communal car, you waved him away as he cursed beneath his breath. Obviously not at you, but the fact that it was getting late and that left him with fewer options to help remedy the situation. Of course he should have listened to Somin when she offered him to take some water along, but that honestly was even before he found you wandering the crowd with no way out. Pulling up to the side of a convenience store, he murmured a curt "be right back" and before long, returned with a small bag of items. The only thing he handed you was a massive water bottle longer than your forearm before instructing you to drink. Propping the passenger door open, you simply nodded while taking shallow sips. The soft bell of your phone perked your ears as you unzipped your clutch and, right before your eyes, watched the device somersault from the safety of your bag and onto the pavement. Wincing, Jaebeom flinched from the sudden crash and your whimpering before asking if you were alright.

"...Yeah, but," with a soft cry, you lifted the now shattered screen of your phone to show him the damage you caused from your clumsiness.

"Would you like to use mine?"

"Who the hell memorizes phone numbers in this day and age!" Tilting your head back against the car's rest, he found himself attempting not to vocalize a chuckle he desperately wanted to release. Your antics were rather cute, especially for someone who had drank themselves under, but he didn't want to add gas to the fire.

"...Well, it's still useable right now. I think. Would you like me to respond for you?"

"Who'sit from?"

Squinting at the lockscreen, he took a moment to formulate what the sender's name was between the cracks and chipped glass, "Kyungah?"

That was her name, Kyungah. That bitch. But you stopped yourself. Was she? Honestly she probably had no idea the history you had with her boyfriend. Exhaling softly, you took another swig of water and secretly thanked that your phone was crushed.

"...Ignore it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, ignore it."

After half the water was consumed between your head tossing back and forth with your eyes shut while Jaebeom sat quietly beside you, you finally felt a sense of normalcy return. But that relief was only diminished by the suddenly embarrassing sound of your stomach croaking in hunger. Stiffening, you tried to rush out a response as the engine turned, "Cool, I'm hungry too."

How you two end up in this retro western themed diner is beyond you, but it was open, nearby, and it seemed clean enough. The cherry red interior somehow helped perpetuate a sobering ritual that was calming you between its glitter and chrome finish. You can't remember what you ordered, but you're so caught up in how warm you feel again, but this time simply from the silence of your company. It's more welcoming than you'd felt in ages, and somehow it released the tension that you had been feeling for months, completely constrained in the worry of yourself. Even when Jaebeom finally broke the silence, it didn't feel like anything was taken from you, "...I'm assuming Kyungah was your friend at the bar." The way he said it hinted the term loosely as you shrugged, taking a sip of water, "Sort of."

"And I'm also, just assuming, that her boyfriend might be your crush or something like that?"

"Wow you found out all that from stealing my license?"

Biting back a grin, he shook his head in response, "I didn't steal it, you left it behind. And I mean, you practically showed it."

Slowly tipping your head back and forth, nodding in silence, you let out a soft sigh while contemplating what you wanted to tell him. Or rather, how much you wanted to tell him, "He's my ex." When the words leave your mouth, you feel a sense of liberation in a way you hadn't, even when you told yourself that many times over. When you woke up and recalled a dream that felt more like a memory and less like fantasy, when you came home and had to stop yourself from announcing your arrival. All these moments that piled up and reminded you that you were a singular entity, on your own, and though being alone didn't equate to loneliness, this was sadly not mutually exclusive in your current state. Perhaps it needed to be relinquished so you could feel that sense of release, it needed to be told to someone, anyone, so that you could finally stop causing your wound licking suffering.

"Ah, I see," hands folded in front of him, you offer him a smile even before you meet his gaze — afraid to see that stupid look of pity that you were dreading and why you held these words so close to you, even in the presence of your closest friends. But rather than that, you get a look of understanding, the expression of someone who wanted to listen. There was no sorrowful sympathy or pained empathy, there was only understanding.

You're so taken aback, you can't seem to form another word in relation to the subject before deciding to change it entirely, "You know you're carrying a bag bigger than mine?" Gesturing towards the crossbody that was slumped beside him in the booth, he peered over at it before laughing.

"Why didn't you leave it in the car?"

"Because the stuff I picked up at the store while I was getting you water shouldn't be left in the car."

"...What's inside?"

"A surprise."

The food arrived, consumed — mostly by Jaebeom to your surprise, my God that man could eat, and plates departed between a few short stories about nothing really at all, and somehow you weren't quite ready to leave. You realized that the company was soothing and healing in a way self-isolation could never have been, and you regretfully felt apologetic to your friends' missed shopping outings and dinner dates, the endless brunch invites and parties that you could have been participating in, letting your mind drift and heal instead of letting the wounds fester out of control. So caught up in your thoughts and the individual ways you were planning to apologize to each friend that you had dismissed during this time, you don't realize the check had already arrived at the table and that Jaebeom was already prepared to return it.

"Oh wait! Hold on!" Grabbing your clutch, you opened it to your horror. Where was your wallet? Shifting around the stray receipts and your compact as if it would magically surface what you were looking for, you dug through frantically while the waiter took the folded checkbook. Lifting your head to look at Jaebeom with a confused expression, you began apologizing immediately.

"Don't worry about it, I was planning to pay anyways," pausing, he peered towards the edge of the table, "...Maybe you left it in the car?" Fishing the keys out from the pocket of his bag, he handed them to you as you rushed out to check. Scouring beneath the passenger and driver's seat — in case — you peeked at the floor on the off chance it may have been kicked to the back. Nothing under the car or around it, you leaned your forehead against the frame of the automobile in defeat, tapping your skull along as if it would make you generate your thoughts properly. You couldn't catch a damn break tonight.

"Did you find it?"

"No."

"I have a key to the bar, we can go back and check," Jaebeom began shrugging off his bag as he gently placed his palm at the center of your back, causing you to shiver at his fervent touch, "Don't get worked up over nothing, you know?"

Emitting a sigh, you nodded in agreement as you tugged at the handle. Surprise. You peered through the window to see the keys gingerly sitting on the driver's seat, all doors locked. Parting your lips, you can't even make a noise at this point, because you simply want to crawl into a hole and rot inside of it. Jaebeom only laughs, pulling you away from the car as he started down the street and back towards where the bar was, "...You know you could have just said you wanted to spend more time with me."

Almost completely silent for the next block, feeling as though your presence may have been a complete burden, you are proven wrong as you watch his hand direct your vision towards a building, "You know that cinema used to be a regular theatre?"

"...Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid, my stepdad had a little shop out front and he must have felt so bad during the summer when I got stuck helping him that he used to let me go see a movie like once a day," chuckling softly, you felt guilty for smiling at this shared memory, still so frustrated that you had to put him through such a night, "...They show art films here now right?"

"Yeah, nowadays," humming softly, only the sounds of both your steps ricochetting off the empty and barren sidewalk, you stopped when you saw a forsythia tree still in bloom. Jaebeom barely notices as he took a couple steps back to match with you, "Hm?"

"...It's kind of late for these to be in bloom," mumbling softly, you stared at the yolk colored blossoms illuminated only by the street lamps above.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the green stays around but the flowers usually fall away..." neck craned as you wandered around the tree, he mimicked your action while observing the plant.

"You know a lot about this tree."

"I'm a florist."

"A flower artist."

Bursting out laughing, you nudge him gently, "Yeah, something like that." Both of you quiet back down, but this time, you felt less like a nuisance and more like you were strolling with a friend. Well he was kind of like your friend now, right? He even knew something none of your other friends knew.

"...Hey, I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Do you really get laid that much?"

Swinging his head to face you, though still matching your short strides, his expression is plagued with shock. You're not quite sure if he'll answer you honestly or laugh.

"Are you still drunk?"

"No!" Smacking his arm, you tilt your head back as the laugh that came from your diaphragm swam up, "I mean it! Your friends said—"

"They say that any time any of us ends up grabbing attention, don't think about it too much."

Smiling, you continue, "And how do I know you're not lying?"

"Well we're just walking, aren't we?" His smirk could practically drown you.

"Ah, touche."

Creeping through the narrow alleyway, stumbled thumping up the metal steps, and through the back entrance, you hid your giggles behind your teeth. There was something that offered exhilaration, as if you weren't allowed to be here regardless of Jaebeom's key. Even after the mess of the evening you made at this very location only hours ago, it felt like there was something welcoming you as you both entered the dark end of the stage. Filtering the lights on, he led you towards the main hallway and into the bar.

"I'll wait for you here," wandering onto the stage, he collapsed his weight in the center before propping his arms back and reclining. It takes less than a minute for you to spot your wallet, jammed between a barstool and the counter at the corner you were taking salvation at. A breath of relief left you as crouched down and retrieved it, pushing it into your clutch as you went to return to the stage. Squinting from a distance, you wondered what Jaebeom was unfolding in his hands as scarlet wrappers were being discarded beside him. Flipping open a matchbook, you walked up the steps and saw several stacked Chocopies tiered up to resemble a cake. Coiling a paper around a match, you watch the flared light as he shoved it in the center of the highest tier before singing the soft, familiar song while clapping his hands for added percussion.

If it were any other time, you'd be rolling on the floor, laughing. But tonight, you felt like you needed exactly this. Settling beside him as he wrapped up the song, you closed your eyes and really did wish your hardest before blowing it out. You both clapped before he grabbed one of the pies and shoved the entire thing into your mouth, to your disgust and surprise. Taking one of your own and having a bite, you tucked your legs close to you, "...So this is why you carried such a big purse huh?"

Rolling his eyes while chewing, you imagined he had a good comeback for you, but he doesn't. Rather, he asked what you wished for. But you tell him it's a secret. After that, you can't really remember what else you both conversed about, but when you wake up against the stage you're reminded that you really can't make any of this any worse. But somehow, it is better than you expected, as you peer up and see the warm glow of what feels like the sun, waiting for you.

Your wish was that this would be the first of many birthdays to come where Jaebeom felt like summer, and summer never ended.

While I was reading through one of my poetry books, I felt some kind of pull. I decided to go ahead and attach it with a translation, in case you wanted to know where my inspiration came from:

종이배 하나 접어 Fold One Paper Boat

어제 내린 눈이 마지막 눈이길 바랍니다 I wish yesterday’s snow fall would be the last 지금 불어오는 바람이 마지막 북풍이길 바랍니다 I wish the wind blowing from the north would be the last 혹시 내가 그 마음 얼어붙게 한 적 있다면 이 제 용서하세요 If I ever froze your heart would you ever forgive me 봄빛 닿는 곳마다 눈부신 빛이 일어납니다 When the spring light reaches out and blinds you while it rises 강 위에 잠시 머물던 얼음 다 녹아 바다로 흘러가면 The ice that once was still on top of the river melts and flows into the ocean 물속에서 놀던 고기들과 만나 지난겨울 이야기 나누다가 As the water enters the ocean, meeting creatures, reminiscing about last winter 종이배 하나 접어 가만히 강물에 띄워 보내겠습니다 I will fold a paper boat and let it travel down the river and float to you 강물이 햇살 없이 저 혼자 그리 아름다운가요 Can that river be beautiful without sunlight 봄이 결울 없이 저 혼자 그리 눈부신가요 Can spring shine beautifully without winter 흘러흘러 그대에게 이르는 마음 아니라면 Flowing, flowing if my feelings don’t reach you 이 마음이 무슨 소용일까요 Then what’s the point of having feelings

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tbhsoft · 3 years

Text

life bar

idol!haechan x idol!y/n

summary: after the legendary interview was released, you and haechan began dating and have been getting an overwhelming sense of support.

genre: fluff

length: 2.1k

a/n: ah! i didn’t think the first post would gain any traction but it did! thank you so much for returning for a part two :)

this is modeled after the korean variety show, life bar. it’s a great show where celebrities aren’t subject to formal interview settings. please check it out! (mark did appear on the show with xiumin and changmin)

i’m not entirely sure of the hosts’ (other than heechul & yura) popularity outside of korea so excuse me for just labelling them as hosts.

if you missed part one, click here!

originally dnghycks’ gif

[the atmosphere is lively and filled with joy] host: how long have you been dating again?

heechul: oh, haechan! you’re dating someone?

haechan: ah, hyung! let’s not act like no one knows.

[heechul, dejected, grumbles to himself]

johnny (laughing): haechan didn’t fall for your bait.

[haechan winks at heechul, making heechul go into mock rage]

host: so, it’s been about 4 years?

[haechan plays with the glass in his hands, smiling to himself]

haechan (shyly): ya, just about.

heechul: are you guys still in your honeymoon phase?

host: do you still get butterflies when you see them?

haechan (nodding): of course! it hasn’t been that long.

heechul: it’s difficult to have a successful relationship as an idol. how did you guys handle it after that interview went viral?

haechan: it was very different to what i expected, you know?

haechan: first of all, we were preparing for the award shows and i was super focused.

haechan: i think it was during our water break that notifications were blowing up all of our phones.

johnny: we were so confused and thought it was from our managers.

haechan: i didn’t react immediately but i could hear the other members reacting, saying things like “no way” or “holy crap”.

haechan: everyone turned and looked at me. i felt like an imposter.

haechan: i was like “what? do i have something on my face? did someone send a meme of me?”

haechan: that’s when mark hyung showed me the news articles.

haechan: i blanked out for the rest of the day if i’m honest, barely remember anything from that day.

haechan: the only thing i remember was the pit in my stomach growing every time i stopped practicing. so, i kept pushing myself so i didn’t have time to think.

johnny: haechan actually fainted that day. he worked himself so hard that we had to rush him to the hospital.

haechan: luckily, it was just exhaustion and i could still perform. but, when i woke up, they told me to rest as much as possible.

haechan: the managers made sure i didn’t leave the house and told me to rest up.

haechan: it forced me to process what the news articles were saying.

haechan: once i did, all i was worried about was how y/n might be handling it.

haechan: was jyp going to give them a hard time?

host: did you text them?

haechan: because we were both focused on the award shows, i thought it best to avoid contact with them until it was all over.

johnny: even when it was all over, he still couldn’t text them.

johnny: i remember haechan pacing our room, trying to decide whether or not to call them.

haechan: i wanted to offer comfort but i wasn’t sure if it would aggravate the situation.

haechan: i think it was a few days after the last award show that i had an official meeting with lee sooman and the press team.

haechan: my eyes were wide the entire meeting.

haechan: lee sooman started the meeting by saying “congratulations!” and i was confused.

haechan: he went on to explain that he liked y/n for me and would support this relationship publicly as long as it didn’t affect my work.

haechan: i couldn’t really articulate my feelings so i think i just nodded.

haechan: he continued asking me about y/n after it, asking if we had made it official yet.

haechan: when i said no, he said that he would issue a buffer statement so i had time to ask them out.

haechan: the meeting concluded and, on my way home, y/n texted me.

heechul: what did they say?

haechan: “can we talk?”

heechul (dramatically rubbing his arms): oh no! the chills!

[haechan chuckles and takes a sip of his beer]

haechan: i told them we should meet in person to talk about it as professionals and adults.

johnny: when he tells it like that, it makes him seem tough. he was tearing up while he was getting ready to go out.

[haechan throws dried squid at johnny]

johnny: yo, thank you! i was hungry!

haechan (rolling his eyes): i wasn’t tearing up—

johnny: you’re right! you were sobbing. my bad!

johnny: you were so scared that you were gonna lose y/n.

[haechan balls up his fist in playful anger]

haechan: if only…

haechan: anyways, i was scared that i was going to be entering the new year without my best friend.

haechan: i asked johnny to drive me to our meeting spot so our manager wouldn’t know.

haechan: once we got there, y/n was already waiting on the bench for me so i told johnny to just chill in the car.

johnny: this is when i snuck my phone in his parka so i could wiretap the conversation.

[haechan pinches his nose bridge]

haechan: ah, hyung! privacy! no wonder your guesses were so accurate.

haechan: anyways, we sat down and talked like we always do. then, we got together!

johnny: in the end, y/n asked him out because he kept stumbling over his words.

johnny: y/n was giggling the whole time. it was very wholesome.

[haechan facepalms while the hosts laugh]

heechul (facing the camera): y/n, please take care of haechan! i know he lacks courage sometimes but—

haechan: really, now? after 4 years?

[johnny laughs while patting haechan’s head]

host: do you hold any resentment towards your interviewers?

[haechan takes a swig of his beer]

haechan: i did at the beginning? i don’t think y/n or i were ready to confess our feelings to each other’s faces just yet.

haechan: but, it’s not entirely their fault either.

haechan: i think, because we kept it a secret for so long, we wanted to tell someone and it was the first time we were prompted to talk about it under the veil of false security.

johnny (understandingly): and it’s easier to tell strangers than your closest friends, right?

haechan: for sure. i think a small part of me did hope they would see the entire interview at some point and that’s why i was so transparent.

heechul: and, because of that, you’re in a beautiful relationship now!

haechan (grinning): thank goodness for that!

host: what did they say when you told them you were coming to our show?

[haechan throws his head back in laughter]

johnny (chuckling): they told him that his taste in alcohol sucks and that they felt sorry for the hosts.

heechul: but, all the drinks you recommended are so good!

haechan (wiping away tears): that’s because they’re their recommendations. i don’t really drink for taste, only the social aspect.

johnny: y/n doesn’t like alcohol. so, if they think something tastes good, then it tastes amazing.

heechul: let’s raise our glasses to our hero, y/n!

[everyone happily raises their glass and cheers to you]

host: did you take them on a date immediately after the statements were released?

haechan: well, i wanted to… but, busy schedules and the fact that we hung out so much beforehand made it near impossible to have a good first date.

johnny: he was looking up “good date ideas” online and kept complaining that he already did those.

haechan: it wasn’t intentional. i guess y/n and i just liked to do couple things unironically.

heechul: i can’t believe you guys never got caught.

haechan: i think it’s because we were dressed so plainly without any disguises.

haechan: only a few people ever recognized our bare faces.

haechan: so, i decided to take them to jeju to see my mom after she called me.

johnny (laughing): i remember that call! she was like “now, bring my future in-law or else i’ll beat you up!”

haechan: when we got there, my mom totally ignored me and went straight for them.

haechan: she told them “i knew donghyuck liked you! he’s such a loser for not asking you out sooner.”

[haechan massages his temple and sighs]

johnny: on the record, haechan’s mom definitely loves y/n more than him.

[haechan nods in agreement]

haechan: so, after my mom babied y/n enough, i took them where you could see the stars perfectly.

haechan: i was really nervous and i didn’t really know what to do until y/n grabbed my hand.

haechan: they looked at me and said “as long as you’re with me, every passing moment is perfect. so, stop trying so hard.”

heechul: woah, y/n is so cool.

haechan: they really are. so, we spent our first real date stargazing and just enjoyed each other’s company.

[the host introduces the next dish and haechan helps set the table] heechul: why don’t we call y/n?

haechan (hesitant): i don’t know if they’re awake. they’re always taking naps at this time.

heechul: i’ll call them.

[heechul rings you up]

you (groggily): hello?

heechul: y/n! it’s heechul with the life bar crew. if you could introduce yourself.

[shuffling is heard through the phone]

you (clearer): all in us! hello, i’m y/n from itzy!

heechul: we were just talking about your relationship and wanted to hear your perspective.

[heechul motions haechan to say something]

haechan (sweetly): hi, darling. i’m sorry we interrupted your nap.

you: no, it’s okay! my alarm was about to go off anyways.

haechan: i was telling them about what happened after the interview and our first date.

you: ah, those were interesting.

heechul: oh? interesting, how?

you (giggling): if you know haechan, you know he doesn’t really cry, much less sob. but, when he showed up to talk, his eyes were puffy from crying so much and he had tear streaks on his face.

haechan (pouting): let’s not expose too much, y/n!

you (teasingly): what are you gonna do? cry on me?

[haechan sits back in his chair, frowning]

you: anyways! i vividly remember feeling bolder after the interview, not that i wasn’t nervous about public opinion.

you: however, i was actually talking to jyp when everything blew up.

you: he reassured me that he didn’t mind and he would support any decision i made.

you: just like that, he removed a whole weight off of my shoulders.

you: so, i was able to perform with confidence and complete reassurance.

you: but, whenever i saw hyuck at the award shows, he looked like he was about to implode so i thought it was better to wait for him to text me.

you: i’m sure johnny told you how frustrated the whole group was. i was the exact same.

[haechan blushes and buries his face in his hands]

you: i just wanted to be able to call him mine but he wouldn’t text me.

[everyone laughs and quietly teases haechan]

you (laughing): honestly, i was really impatient but i didn’t want to push him. so, i waited for a whole week after the last award show.

you: but, he was avoiding me really well! i even had to text johnny to make sure he was still alive.

you: so, i decided to just reach out to him first.

you: during the meeting, i tried to act like normal and tease him about his puffy face but he was having none of it.

you: “y/n, this is serious. this is our careers we’re talking about.”

you: i was scared for a moment until he was stumbling his confession out.

you: “the interview! i meant it. everything. i do. i would really like it if— i mean if you feel the same way— of course you do! you said it in the video. you do feel the same way, right?”

haechan (whining): you’re making me sound lame!

you: no, you were cute! but, also, slightly lame.

[you cackle through the phone]

you: so, i just asked him.

heechul: how about the first date?

you: he was so worried about being romantic and having that perfect first date that he forgot that i’m just a simple person.

you: when we went to see the stars, he was so nervous and was getting frustrated with himself.

you: to me, the effort he went through in itself was romantic to me.

you: i didn’t need the most spectacular first date because him being by my side was more than perfect.

you: so, i just let him know my thoughts and, when he finally relaxed, it became the most memorable first date ever.

heechul: what happened after he relaxed?

haechan: i listed all the little things that made me fall in love with them time and time again.

[everyone awes]

you: he made me feel like the most beautiful being in the universe.

heechul: okay! before this turns to sappy, y/n! thank you so much for joining us today!

you (laughing): it was my pleasure! invite me next time so i can expose haechan!

haechan: ya!

heechul: will do, bye!

[heechul hangs up the call]

host: you can definitely feel the love between you two.

haechan (in mock anger): i’m going to jump them the next time i see them.

heechul (grinning): well, i wish you guys nothing but happiness. host (raising his glass): to haechan and y/n’s beautiful relationship! [glasses clink as a bright grin appears on haechan’s face]

a/n: if i’m completely honest, idk how relationships work so idk if the way i wrote about this situation was done in a healthy way :P

pls feel free to give me feedback because i’m always looking to improve!

thank you so much for reading once again!

also, idk really know how taglists work so... @wownajaemin, hello!

#haechan fluff #fullsunnet #thekpopnetwork #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct 127 #dreamies #nct

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Every Glance A Step Closer

Prompt: Glances | AO3 link here. Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

“This one barely goes out of her laboratory. I swear to god she smells like formaline.”

“He smells like the dust and cobwebs in the library. I cannot even pronounce what he’s doing – archi…something. I just know he handles lots of old papers and books. B-o-r-i-n-g.”

“So anyway, Haruno Sakura meet Uchiha Sasuke.”

This was her one free day in her experiment period week, but she needed to steam off for a night and so she allowed her friend to tug her along for a chill night drink. What Sakura didn’t expect was to socialize with a small group of people in their year and to suffer the cold indifference of the guy in front of her.

To her another surprise, he held out a hand to her. “Hello there.” She took it, slightly conscious whether she used her formaline-cancelling hand lotion. A brief and firm shake and he quicky turned away.

“Sasuke finally speaks.”

“That hello sounded a little spicier.”

“Oh my, that hand holding definitely had some electricity.”

The cajoling and teasing finally stopped when the first round of beers came in. Local university gossip was the go-to conversation opener, from the open secret student-teacher relationships to recent couple break-ups. It eventually led to Sasuke and his list of confessions.

“I heard you turned down Mio from fashion design department.”

“No way. I heard she was approached by Celine for a gig.”

“Really Sasuke? That makes her the fifth girl you dumped for this week alone.”

“You never actually had a girlfriend, did you?”

Sakura stared at him doe-eyed, genuinely curious of his answer. He returned her gaze and raised one brow. “I have high standards.”

Oh wow, what a douche, Sakura thought. Hoots erupted in their table but only for a few seconds. While the drinking and the exchanges went on, Sakura found herself wanting to go home early. She was bored and her neck was tired from not looking at him. Under the guise of stretching her already strained neck, she stole a glance, hoping to have a brief moment to take in all of his features and remember his face.

But he was already looking at her. His eyes went to the door of the restaurant then back to her. Bored? He mouthed.

Sakura looked at the door, knowing perfectly what he meant. She chugged her supposedly last bottle of beer and made a small gap with her thumb and index finger. He caught her signal and started to stand up. Their group was tipsy enough not to notice their sudden movements as they shuffled out of the door.

She halted after a few steps, Sasuke’s figure already paces in front of her, wondering whether she should say goodbye or just walk towards the opposite direction back to her apartment. She didn’t think too much of it and quickly chose the latter.

She had to get ice cream first though, a sugar rush to help jolt her senses awake. She was choosing between chocolate and strawberry when a large figure stood beside her.

“A vanilla one, please,” Sasuke said, looking smug with his hands both in his pockets. “Your treat.”

Sakura felt weirded out by the fact that he actively kept on engaging her. His reputation preceded him, but she decided to humor him for tonight. “So library science and you’re an archivist.”

“Intern archivist actually. So you actually know me.” There was arrogance in his voice that made Sakura almost choke on her ice cream.

“Process of elimination. There is no male major in our year in the History department.” She glanced at him and saw that smug look slowly transition into a slight flush of embarrassment. Cute.

“And what if it was a hobby?” Sasuke fiddled with his still unopened vanilla ice cream.

“There was a job posting in the bulletin specifically calling for Library Science students.” Their feet led them to the park still bustling with university night life and settled on a bench under the canopy of a fully bloomed dogwood tree. “See, I’m not your admirer.”

“Well, that’s a downer,” he smirked.

They talked like that for a while, fleetingly exploring related topics to their degree programs, the usual prominent teachers, the busy schedules, until Sakura finished her chocolate and strawberry popsicles. It was on her way home, finally this time, that she realized he never ate his ice cream.

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

She next saw him on their building’s rooftop with a group of friends, a piece of unsmoked cigarette in between his fingers. He quickly met her eyes, did a brief nod, and looked away. She inadvertently expected more than that but she wasn’t here for a smoke break, and it wasn’t her intention to take it further. She was here for a quick getaway from her microscope and to appreciate the city view dotted with the flowers of spring.

He kept glancing her way, however. He would be in the middle of a conversation and his eyes would stray to her, and she would catch it in her periphery, trying not to notice it. She got tired after a few repetitions of this, and the next time he glanced, she caught his gaze.

Stop it, she mouthed.

I’m bored, he mouthed back. Walk with me. His fingers mimicked the gesture, his fingers walking in the air.

She put her hands together and slightly bowed in apology. Next time, she winked at him before running back to her laboratory, a small smile painted on her lips.

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

It became like this for the next few weeks; they conversed through glances and awkward gestures whenever they were in public with their friends. When it was time to come home, they would walk in separate ways and meet again in the park under the same dogwood tree and they would converse for hours. It was mostly Sakura word-vomiting about her experiments while Sasuke would look at her with abandoned fascination.

“Stop doing that,” Sakura called him out one time.

“Stop doing what?” Sasuke asked, his ember eyes never leaving her face.

“You stare too much I feel like I’m melting.”

Sasuke made a small grunt and wore his hoodie over his head to mess with her more. He waved his hands on both sides of his face, and she immediately understood the reference of a horse having its blinders on. “Good because usually I’m the one being stared at.”

Sakura reached out to his hoodie and tightened the strings around his neck. “You’re hopeless.”

He leaned forward, almost touching her lips, his face still between her palms. “Hmm, maybe I am.”

Sakura moved away just as quickly as he moved into her personal space, a hot flush creeping to her cheeks. She hated this particular situation since blushing always made her look like a cherry tomato.

“Cute.” Sasuke apparently said his thoughts aloud because he was taken aback the moment she glanced back at him. “Cool, I said cool.”

She laughed this off just as he completely covered his face inside his hoodie.

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

She visited the basement section of the library for reference materials. Her writeup was due tomorrow and she was missing a section on historical evolution of vaccines and dosages for the viral DNA she uncovered. The small library slip in her hand, she made her way to the dimly lit rows on Biology. The shelves were twice taller than her, but there were spaces in between stacked books.

Would make it very easy to spot a ghost, Sakura chided to herself. A shadow moved along the row adjacent to the Biology section, but she dismissed this as the library staff. Her fingers traced the spines of ragged books and examined the list of recommended titles in her hand. When she raised her head, ember eyes stared back at her between the spaces of the opposite row.

Hi, Sasuke mouthed. He glanced around and seeing no one, he whispered, “Can I come over to your side?”

She found it hard to stop her grin from rising. “More eyes, the better.”

It took only a few minutes for Sasuke to find all the titles in her list, but they littered around, walking in between shelves, taking one random book and flipping its pages, stopping when they find something interesting. When heavy footfalls were heard on the stairs, Sakura inclined her head, gesturing she needed to go.

Sasuke seemed to misunderstand as he pulled her through the sleeve of her cardigan to the area further behind the room, and as the shadows grew darker, and the noise became more muted, she heard the racing beat of her heart.

Finally reaching the wall, Sasuke slumped to the floor and patted the space beside him. Sakura followed suit, consciously leaving a space between them as she was slowly becoming hyper-aware of their proximity.

“How are you faring so far? Done with the requirements?” Sasuke asked, his voice low but audible enough for her.

Sakura nodded, and after beat, rolled her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be out there assisting others?”

“I believe you need more immediate help.” Sasuke pulled his knees in to rest his chin on and trained his eyes on her. “Sakura.”

“Sasuke.”

The longest minute of silence hung between them, tension strung by the stare, until Sakura broke it off with her eyes shifting to the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting,” he said like it’s a matter-of-fact. “This is what they usually do to me.”

“And what should I do?” She let the words roll out of her mouth, unsure why she asked, uncertain also of what he felt. She met his gaze again.

And in that moment, he just sincerely looked at her. “Flirt back.”

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

Sakura was done for the school year. She will be officially graduating in a month, and to celebrate, she went out with their group for a sem-ender discotheque clubbing. She was gonna shoot her shot for a one-night stand with literally anyone who had chemistry with her – haha she was just kidding. As this seemed to be the final cap-off to her university life, she went all out with her clothes Sakura-style – basically a boxy cropped tea, high waisted jeans, and old heels her best friend gave to her in pity.

This was actually her first club experience, but she was glad to be with veteran friends. The first few minutes inside a closed space with bass boosted, unfamiliar crowds, and lots of skinship made her very uncomfortable. Her only reprieve was the free-flowing drinks – ironically she can handle alcohol well. The disco lights would have made it difficult to spot faces, but she found him in the dark, on the corner directly across her group, his eyes already glued on her.

She wondered if he ever forgave her for scrambling out of his presence in the reference section last time, explicitly avoiding his request to flirt back. It seemed like she worried for nothing since Sasuke raised his glass to her and mouthed congratulations. She raised her glass back, resolving to mind her own business tonight. But he kept looking, a smirk etched on his beautiful face, urging her to meet him halfway.

She didn’t need to look for an excuse as her friends suddenly pulled her into the harmless mosh pit of friendly grinding. Sakura allowed herself to move to the beat, enjoying the bubble offered by the club to lose herself for a few seconds. But she kept glancing towards his direction, his eyes looking for her in the mass of bodies. At first, the glances were mischievous, like playing hide-and-seek, then they held gravity, heavy lidded and palpable.

Sasuke was impatient, and soon enough, at her next spin on her heels, he was right behind her, his hands hovering over her arms, seeking consent to touch. Sakura turned to face him, one part shy, other parts unnerved, and she slowly encircled her arms around his neck, her eyes a definite yes. His hands went to her waist, and he brought her closer to his embrace.

“You don’t have your hoodie though,” Sakura said, a little louder over the crooning of Carly Rae Jepsen to Gimmie Love. “Someone will definitely see you.”

Sasuke closed whatever distance was between them and brought his lips to her ears. “That’s a relief then. I want to be seen with you.”

“Simp,” Sakura teased. “You’re probably expecting a confession out of me, aren’t you?” This was a long time coming and she wanted to get it over with tonight especially when she had alcohol buzzing on her side.

“I am actually,” Sasuke said. “I was hoping to beat you to it in the library last time, but you ran away. Coward.”

“What?”

“What? Didn’t you hear me?”

“You like me.” Sakura said in realization. She edged her face away from his hold to take a good look at his embarrassed face. “Oh, you really do.”

“You could be dense sometimes, Sakura.” Sasuke poked her forehead playfully, and he was rewarded with a bubbly laughter from her.

Their friends finally noticed them and the intense skinship happening. The yells and woots started to drown out the speakers.

“That took you two long enough, huh?”

“They really waited for the end of the school year to do their big reveal.”

“As if the whole school doesn’t know already.”

“What?” Sasuke and Sakura asked in unison.

“It was the constant eyesmex.”

“Really, they do it every time with no shame. It gives me secondhand embarrassment.”

“Right? Sometimes I think I need to yell get a room.”

“Maybe they’ll get a room tonight.”

“Oh my god, shut up."

🌸 It's my first time participating actively for SS Month so please go easy on me haha. Work is loosely inspired by Nevertheless webtoon (which now has a Netflix adaptation). Hope you enjoyed reading!

#ssm21 #sasusaku month #sasusaku #ssm21d1 #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sasuke #sakura #fanfic #anime fanfiction

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dimpled-gukkie · 3 years

Text

Santa Baby (tell me you hear them too)

moodboard made by the lovely @today-we-will-survive

Summary: You attend a last minute Christmas party and meet your soulmate. The catch? You don’t remember anything about them besides the fact that they were wearing a Santa suit. Turns out there were seven Santas at the party... The question remains: Can you find your soulmate before Christmas Day?

Genre: Soulmate AU/ College AU

Pairing: ???? x reader

Warnings: hand burned on hot chocolate, Jin says he’s too pretty to be a hostage, mentions and depictions of drinking, joon is described as a porn aficionado

Word Count: 12.4k

a/n: It’s a very special day for my dearest friend @purpleful! In your honor I thought I’d write you a story of your own, as you help me with a countless amount of mine. Remember all the times you asked me this month if I had written anything or had a Christmas fic? I had been working on this the whole time nshjfhn. You sent me into a panic sometimes though because I swear you guessed the plot several times without actually knowing I was even writing. Anyways I love you and thank you for being my friend ❤️

a/a/n: also Happy Holidays to anyone else celebrating. I hope you’re able to find lightness even in these dark times. And to the atheists out there, cheers to the upcoming new year

1 day, 12 hours, 32 minutes and 12 seconds until Christmas

“Don’t you think those elf costumes are hot? Like damn I wish my legs looked like that in tights.” Mina whispers conspiratorially, though her voice has a tendency to carry no matter what volume she attempts to speak in, meaning the elf you’re passing by surely hears her based off his reddened ears.

“Do you have any shame?” You laugh, tucking your arm around her own to tug her into the nearby candle store. Your professor offered to give extra credit in exchange for a present and while she’s undoubtably exploiting her students for free gifts you could really use some help in your upper division history elective.

“What’s the fun in that?” Mina giggles, reaching over to the nearest stand and picking up a candle. She gives it a good whiff before coughing, holding the offending item away from her like that will somehow save her from smelling it further despite the top still being off.

“I imagine this is what elf vomit smells like.” She groans, shoving it into your arms in an effort to make you suffer as well. True friendship.

“Winter Candies?” You question, reading the label and the ingredients it’s supposed to smell like. “Adding pecan and peppermint is probably what went wrong.” You hum before smelling it yourself and coughing from the fumes. “Oh you were right this is disgusting.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Mina hums. “Get that one for your professor.”

“I’d like my grade to be higher not lower. Let’s just get this pine one. It’s a safe bet right?”

“If you like your house to smell like a forest I guess so.” She shrugs, following behind you to the register. “Do you think we could get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat like half of Songi’s Christmas cookies this morning? Speaking of which you’re going to get in trouble, she was whining the whole time about how long they were taking due to her lack of patience.”

“When is she not whining about how long things take? Girl has the attention span of a nat, better yet a goldfish.” She snickers, though her eyes shine with a particular fondness for one of her oldest friends. Songi is actually how you met Mina in the first place, the both of you stuck in statistics together and becoming quick friends. When sophomore year rolled around it just made sense to move in with Songi and Mina as they were already looking for a third roommate.

“Very true. Though I’m sure her soulmate will find it charming. Hopefully.”

“Do you ever wonder when we’ll meet our soulmates?” Mina sighs, looking dreamily off into what appears to be the oncoming food court. It’s a toss up whether she’s thinking about her soulmate or fried food.

“All the time but I try not to dwell on it. I just want to live you know? They’ll find me eventually.” The line for hotteok is long, but the sweet smell of pancakes keeps you placated even if your stomach is grumbling.

“When my soulmate does come I hope they’re as fine as Park Jimin. That man must be an angel or something because no one has the right to be that attractive.” You’re about to comment on where that sudden thought came from when Park Jimin himself exits hastily from a store, a clothing bag thrown over his shoulder as he hastily types on his phone. From the draw of his brows and slight scowl he almost looks a little angry, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Jimin!” Mina calls, and the orange haired boy immediately picks his head up and puts on a light smile before jogging over.

As he approaches the bells around you jangle, the clock at Santa’s workshop echoing throughout the mall and ringing in your ears. Rubbing your ear to try and ease the slight pain you give Jimin a small wave when he finally appears before you. “The bells are pretty loud huh?” He smiles, nodding towards the large bell that apparently looms behind you.

You agree at the same time Mina says, “I don’t think they’re that loud. Annoying at most.” Before looking between the both of you and wriggling her brows. You brush it off as her being weird before gesturing to Jimin’s bag.

“Don’t tell me you bought a Santa costume.” You say, causing him to laugh. The way his eyes slip between his plump cheeks is rather flattering.

“I lost a bet and this is the price to pay for tonight’s party. Speaking of which you guys should come. Jin’s on alcohol duty so he’ll definitely get all the fancy shit.” Jimin says.

“Well since the Park Jimin invited us, I guess we’ll have to stop by. Text y/n the address and we’ll get there eventually. No promises to be on time though.” Mina jokes.

“That is why they created the term ‘fashionably late’ is it not? Just make sure not to wear a sexy Santa costume, Jin says he wants to be the lone slutty Santa.” Jimin laughs, as if drawing a picture in his own mind before shaking his head.

“It’s a little odd to have a party on the twenty-third though. Why not Christmas Eve?”

“Most of us are going home tomorrow so today was really the only time. Everyone was strung up with finals and stuff.”

“Understandable. I’m getting last minute extra credit before grades are finalized tomorrow. Our school really kills the festive spirit with everything being so close to the holidays.”

“Exactly. All the more reason to party out our frustrations.” His phone buzzes and Jimin types a quick reply before turning back to you. “I gotta go and help Tae at the shelter but I’ll see you both tonight right?”

“And Songi! Our ride or die, our forever plus one, our favorite-“

“Alright, alright. Yeah we’ll be there.” You smile, your hand still over Mina’s mouth as Jimin turns and jogs away. When you release her she smacks the back of your head and you whine.

“What was that for??”

“For being stupid dumbass. You’re telling me both you and Jimin thought the bells were super loud and didn’t think that’s sus. He’s clearly your soulmate!” Mina practically screeches, bouncing on her heels in excitement. The spectacle draws the attention of those around you and you can’t help but shy away.

“Shut up! Besides it’s the holiday season, bells are ringing everywhere. There’s no way to tell if it’s actually your soulmate’s bell jingle. Besides Jimin didn’t seem to think anything of it either. Shouldn’t you just know?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one with the found soulmate after all.” Mina shrugs before giving her order to the vendor. She nudges you to give your own but your mind is still reeling. Park Jimin isn’t actually your soulmate, right?

1 day, 1 hour, 37 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

Despite your nonchalance earlier, you feel jittery standing outside the address Jimin sent you. Shivers rack down your spine at the prospect of seeing him again, of being certain that Jimin is your forever. You can hear the music through the door, a rhythmic thumping that you try and match your breathing to. Even if Park Jimin isn’t your soulmate it’s not going to be the end of the world. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, ignoring the way just the idea forms a pit in your stomach. “I know we’re waiting for you to mentally prepare yourself but could you hurry up? I for one would love to witness slutty Jin.” Mina says, nudging you forward lightly with her shoulder.

“Chill out Mina, give the poor girl some time. She’s about to find her soulmate after all.” Songi says, throwing an arm over your shoulder and dragging you into her side. “If it makes you feel better I’ll stay by your side the whole night. We can make fun of Mina shamelessly trying to outdo Seokjin.”

“Hey! Jimin may have said I couldn’t be a slutty Santa but that will never stop me from being the baddest bitch there.” She makes a show of grabbing her sweater and tugging it to emphasize ‘ho’ stitched across the front. Songi has a matching one with Santa losing said hos.

“If I don’t see a dance battle I’m going to be disappointed. After all you promised to do something stupid for me to film. It’s the only reason I decided to come, I mean after supporting you of course.” Songi laughs, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey I could be an idol with these moves! Ryujin has nothing on me.” Mina huffs, breaking out into the iconic Itzy choreography in the middle of the hallway. You can’t help but crack up at the serious face she makes while ungracefully flailing her limbs. “And you should be grateful to us you hermit! I hope for your sake your soulmate is outgoing because you’ll live your whole life holed up in your apartment otherwise.”

“It’s safer that way. No bugs.” Songi says, causing Mina to push her and nearly send you both crashing to the floor.

“You’re insufferable. I don’t know how I’ve put up with you all these years.”

“You love me, I mean really it’d be hard not too.” Songi shrugs, a smug smile pulled onto her face as she pats Mina’s cheek.

“More like tolerate you and to be honest I’ve reached my limit. Let’s go inside so I can ditch you losers.” Mina throws the door open and heads inside, easily weaving through the bodies crammed inside the small apartment.

“I can just feel the love.” Songi sighs, clutching onto the space over her heart. “Now come on, we can’t find him if we’re in the hallway all night.” Moving to grab your hand she drags you inside, only for you to run into a boy passing through.

“My bad, didn’t think anyone else would be coming by. I have to go get more eggnog before Jin starts screaming at us again.” He smiles, the corner of his lips forming into soft right angles.

“It’s alright.” You murmur, looking around for Mina or Songi. Surely they’re somewhere nearby. Songi is most likely tucked away in some corner, longingly looking for an animal to keep her entertained while Mina is probably at the makeshift bar. If you weren’t so busy looking for your friends maybe you’d pay mind to the soft tinkling of bells and his cardinal red Santa suit wrapped nicely around his frame. Yet even when he breezes past you, your eyes are focused on your two friends. You spot Mina first, surprisingly she’s near the edge of the makeshift dance floor, a drink in her hand and likely about halfway drunk enough to begin belting along to whatever song comes on, even if it’s a terrible EDM mashup of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

You push through the bodies to get to her, almost getting trampled twice before breaking out and grabbing her by the arm before she can walk away. “Oh hey! I got you a drink, I know you don’t like eggnog so I swiped the chocolate milk from the fridge and spiked it myself.” She smiles, shoving a green plastic cup decorated with little lights towards you. You take a sip and wince at the bitter taste, the gingerbread liquor making an interesting concoction. But it’s the thought that counts and you smile despite wanting to cough at the strong flavor.

“Thanks. Where’s Songi?” You ask and Mina curses.

“She was just over in that corner but she’s gone now. Maybe we should try to find her?”

“You know, for someone who claims to hate social interaction she goes off on her own quite easily.” You hum, pushing your way through only to bump into Park Jimin himself. “Sorry.” You say, bumping into Mina from how quickly you try to put space between the two of you. You had momentarily forgotten the whole reason you came was because of Jimin and the possibility that he’s your soulmate. Your hands are suddenly clammy and you rub them against the side of your pants nervously.

“No big deal. Good to see you though! How long have you been here? You should’ve come and said hi to me first.” He whines, his pretty lips drawing into a thick pout, brows upturned as he gives you his best puppy dog look. You can feel yourself melting and all he’s doing is staring at you. The bells around you seem to get louder, Mariah Carey’s iconic Christmas song setting the stage.

“Ahh yeah. Next time! Maybe we could-uhh even come together. If you want to that is.” You smile shyly, pulling your sleeves down over your hands anxiously. You hope he can understand the implication behind your words, and as he steps towards you the bells seem to grow even louder. Someone shoves you from behind and you stumble, body alight with nerves when Jimin catches you. You’re practically shaking, in nerves or excitement you can’t discern. The only thing you can focus on is how pretty Jimin looks cast under red and white lights, his eyes filled with little twinkles. Your breath hitches at how close he is and you look down quickly when he gazes back at you so he can’t read the pure adoration on your face.

Naturally to try and seem less awkward you rush out the first thought that comes to mind. “Your suit is orange?” He takes a step back and you wish to reverse time as the warmth of whiskey and cinnamon on his breath parts from you.

“Ahh yeah, I lost a bet so I had to wear a Santa Suit and Hobi didn’t have enough for us all. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even bother looking at it before renting it. It’s my own fault for being swindled. I should’ve known better than to rent from a halloween shop that was suspiciously still open in December. Can you believe all the other stores were sold out?” Jimin scoffs and despite being interested in his story you can only focus on the way his lips move and pout with each word. They’re a rosy pink, slightly shiny in the dim lighting like he had just put on chapstick or licked his lips. The only thing that draws you out of your stupor is a petite girl throwing her arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Baby!” She exclaims and your eyes widen as Jimin grins down at her, wrapping his hands happily around her own waist and dragging him tightly into her. His smile is the largest you’ve ever seen on him, cheeks particularly squished in utmost happiness and his expression being what you could only describe as love. You can feel your heart breaking already. “Hi I’m Jisoo!” You think you’re going to be sick to your stomach, not just because Jimin is in love with someone else but because the girl you’re supposed to hate is so nice. She smiles at you warmly like you weren’t just staring at her boyfriend’s lips and wondering what they’d taste like.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Isn’t my soulmate so cute?” Jimin asks you, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he squishes her cheek between two fingers. Your breath starts to quicken and you smile widely to hide the way your eyes begin to fill with tears.

“You both are adorable together.” You manage to get out, impressed with how natural it sounds despite how tense you feel. The bells in your head are just mocking you now as you make up an excuse to leave, the two of them so wrapped up in each other they don’t pay mind to your absence. Clearing your throat you head to the bathroom to try and get some privacy for your inevitable break down only to run into Mina and some guy in a Santa suit stumbling out.

“Y/n!” Mina cheers, too intoxicated to notice the way small tears begin to fall down your face. The hallway is rather dark and yet you can still make out the guy next to her with a curved nose and reddened ears. He looks a little embarrassed to be caught after an obvious rendezvous in a bathroom at a party and yet his hands still wind around Mina’s waist comfortably when she pulls away from you. “My soulmate’s an elf!” She cackles and you welcome the distraction her words bring.

“What?” You ask confused. The guy beside her is wearing a Santa costume, you’re sure of it.

“Hoseok is a mall elf! You know the guy with the hot legs? It’s him, my soulmate!” She squeals excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and smiling up at him blissfully.

“How are you sure?” You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but Mina never mentioned hearing bells at the mall nor did she mention hearing bells when you caught her earlier. If anything this could just be her wishful thinking like her suggestion of Jimin being your soulmate.

“You just kinda know! Like at the mall when we passed I wrote it off as shop bells. Then when I got here and we bumped into each other I just knew it was actually him. And when we touched it was like I was struck by lightning.” Your face must show incredulity because she just smiles at you.

“I know, I know. It sounds super cliche but it’s true. Though now that we’ve touched a lot more it’s wearing down.” She giggles, winking at him and reveling in the way the blush burns brighter. He sticks his hand out to you after squeezing her waist and you stare at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though.” His smile takes the form of a heart as he grins at you and Mina practically squeals.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to talk later but I have to use the bathroom.” You nod behind them and Hoseok seems to realize he’s standing in the doorway and moves aside bashfully.

“So sorry! Didn’t realize I was still standing there.” You just give him a tight-lipped smile and nod, moving past them quickly. Your silence seems to be what draws Mina’s concern, a tentative hand coming to grab your forearm lightly.

“Y/n-“ She starts but you gently brush her off.

“I’m fine. Really don’t worry about me.” You say softly before locking the door and sliding down it. It’s in the comfort of the quiet bathroom that you allow the tears to freely fall and mourn the soulmate you didn’t have.

22 hours, 45 minutes, 35 seconds until Christmas

You finally find Songi, a random cat cuddled up in her arms as she’s squished into a small chair nestled by the kitchen. She’s a little hazy in your mind, it feels a bit like you’re looking at her underwater, and you smile at her lazily before plopping down into her lap. “Be careful!” She scolds, holding the cat up higher so it’s curled into her chest instead. You just blink slowly at her in response and she sighs. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“After I cried for like thirty minutes I stole a bottle of peppermint schnapps and drank the whole thing.” You sigh, resting your head against her own.

“Why’d you cry? I wish you would’ve told me you were upset, I would’ve suggested we leave right away.”

“Park Jimin already has a soulmate…it’s not me. I know chances were already slim because he’s Park Jimin and well, I’m me but I just thought maybe this would be it. I finally would have someone to share everything with and I wouldn’t.. be so lonely.” You murmur out the last part, your drunken state revealing the thoughts that consumed you upon meeting Jisoo. No matter how much you mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of Jimin being a fluke, you weren’t ready for just how brutal the disappointment was.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being you. Besides I’d never let Park Jimin sit on my lap and yet here you are, perched upon a throne.” You can’t help the small giggle you let out. Songi always knows what to say to cheer you up.

“You’re so weird you know that? You’re the only person I know who refers to thighs as a throne.”

“Don’t judge me and my preferences. You drool over hands and I drool over thighs, it’s perfectly normal. Anyways, I know you mean romantically but I’ll always be here if you want someone to cry with or to yell at fictional characters about their stupidity with you. You’re my best friend.” Despite her hatred of hugs and physical contact Songi retracts her arms from the cat to put them around you instead, gently giving you a squeeze. It’s a little awkward because she’s terrible at hugs but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“How about we get out of here okay?” She suggests and you nod, wincing as your head starts to pound. The alcohol must be catching up to you. The pounding is then followed by ringing, and you hold your head in your hands as church bells ring in your ears. The world is truly out to make a mockery of your life.

“You okay? Here sit down a minute.” Songi ushers you into the chair as she hovers above you, rushing off to get some water for you.

“Taehyung really shouldn’t have been in charge of the playlist.” Someone from beside you sighs but you can’t look up at them for the sake of your pounding headache. “I think I’m going to have bells ringing in my head for days.” They sigh before they seem to notice you. “Hey you okay?” They ask, a hand placed on your shoulder in concern but the electricity that runs down your spine makes you gasp. Your skin prickles in goosebumps but Songi is just near enough that she takes your gasp as extreme pain instead of astonishment.

“I’m sorry I took so long!” She says, throwing your arm around her shoulders haphazardly before hauling you up and against her.

“Hey wait-“ The voice from beside you starts, but Songi brushes them off.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna steal your cat this time. But don’t let him roam around with a bunch of drunk people. I almost saw him get stepped on five times by idiots.” For a brief second you manage enough strength to turn your head without wanting to throw up and blearily lock eyes with a pair of chocolate brown ones. They’re swimming with something you can’t quite make out: pain, regret, longing. But then Songi calls your name and you turn away to make sure you don’t smack into the front door. It’s odd but you can feel a pit in your stomach the further you walk away and his eyes are imprinted on the back of your lids with every blink.

14 hours, 18 minutes, 22 seconds until Christmas

“Wake up bitches!” Mina screams, banging on your and Songi’s doors and you groan. Rolling over, you throw the pillow over your head and try to fall back asleep to avoid the way your head pounds. Mina throws your door open and you wince when it smacks against the wall next to it. “You can’t evade me.” She says, reaching for your comforter and trying to throw it off. However, you predicted this to happen when you flipped over and cling tightly to the fluffy bedding, expertly disrupting her evil plan. Mina huffs in annoyance and you hide your grin in your sheets before releasing a puff of air when she jumps on top of you. “Wake! Up!” She yells, jumping on top of you like you’re some human trampoline.

“You’re the worst kind of person.” You grumble, rolling over to come face to face with her smile.

“Thanks! Now I want to eat cookies for breakfast and I refuse to eat them alone like it’s a shameful activity.” True in her shameless fashion she’s only wearing a baggy t-shirt, her neck exposed and colored various shades of purple and red. Though your night was unexplainably horrible you’re glad at least someone had a good time.

“I want Songi’s cookies. Hers always look pretty.”

“You mean you don’t want to try my cinnamon bourbon toffee snickerdoodles? I saw it on tiktok and they took me two hours! I nearly set the oven on fire!” You wrinkle your nose at the memory of two days ago, and coming home from finishing up one of your last papers to her covered in flour and the counters doused in eggs. It’s like she somehow got in a food fight with herself.

“And that’s precisely why they shouldn’t exist in the first place. You didn’t even know how to turn on the oven.” Songi murmurs, leant against your doorway.

“You’re all ungrateful, uncultured swines.” She huffs, though she still proceeds to make you all hot chocolates when you emerge from your room. The three of your are sat at the kitchen counter, plates full of cookies and Songi’s mom’s homemade fudge. If anything can cure a hangover it’s gorging yourself on unhealthy food.

“Did I ever tell you one kid in high school called me an uncultured swine because I didn’t know the rat from the ninja turtles?” Songi says, munching on her own frosted sugar cookie. It was her first attempt at a 3D wreath but turned out to be more like a bush of frosting. For most it’d be deemed to sweet and disgusting to ingest but Songi happily licks away at the icing.

“What is the rat’s name?” Mina asks, and Songi just shrugs.

“I still don’t know honestly.”

“Why were you up so early anyways? Don’t you normally sleep until noon?” You ask Mina, noticing the way she turns away from you almost shyly.

“Hobi slept over and he had to go back to work early to return the Santa suits he stole before his boss found out.” The Santa suits spring a memory to mind and you suddenly recall seeing more than just one. Though Jimin did mention there being others, you only saw Hobi and Jin wearing them.

“Why were so many people wearing Santa suits anyways? I thought Jin wanted to be the only one.”

“The only slutty one, so naturally he was wearing the top of the suit like a robe and cut the pants into thot shorts. Hobi was understandably pissed about that one since they were only borrowing the suits after all. But it was some bet, he told me about it last night but I was too drunk to remember.” Looking into your drink the swirling chocolate then reminds you of eyes and the tingling feeling down your back when a warm palm rested on your shoulder.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, suddenly standing up and running to your room. Mina and Songi are hot on your heels, watching curiously as you bounce around on one foot while struggling to pull your jeans over your thighs and hips.

“Where are you going?” Songi asks and you widen your eyes at the realization that she’s the only one who would’ve seen their face.

“Songi who did you see before you took me home? Who had their hand on my shoulder?” You ask, running up to grab her by the upper arms and shake her almost desperately. “Songi I need to know who it was.”

“What’s this all about? Did they steal from you or something?” Mina asks and you throw your head back in a frustrated groan.

“No they’re my soulmate!”

“Babe-“ Mina starts and your glare at the pity in her expression.

“I’m being serious. I felt the sparks or whatever and I can see his eyes when we walked away. I just can’t remember anything else. Songi you have to remember who they were.” You plead to the both of them and they look back at you rather sadly.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never seen them before. I think they were wearing a Santa costume but I don’t remember much else about them.” She says and you can’t help but deflate. You actually found your soulmate and got so drunk you can’t remember anything about them. Great.

“Are you sure they’re your soulmate anyways. I passed by you later that night and you seemed pretty wasted but maybe after Jimin you just thought-“

“No I didn’t make up a soulmate just because I was depressed that Jimin wasn’t mine. You know how you just knew with Hoseok? Well I just know with him. How many people were wearing Santa costumes?”

“Six.” Mina says but Songi disagrees and says there’s seven.

“A guy came in later with another suit. That’s how I found the cat, it was just following him around and I heard the little bell on the collar.”

“You-you heard a cat bell at a party filled with drunk people screaming?” Mina asks, her face twisted up in confusion. You have to admit that does seem like it’s rather unlikely that someone would be able to discern such a quiet sound with so much commotion.

“I have exceptional hearing, of course I heard it. Besides this isn’t some fanfic where we all find our soulmates in the same place. The guy did have a pretty face though, I wouldn’t mind looking at it upon closer inspection.” Songi shrugs, staring off dreamily like the cat guy is standing right in front of her.

“Do you think Hobi can give me the name of the guys he leant the suits to?” You ask and Mina sighs.

“Just don’t get your hopes up too much okay? Songi only thinks he was wearing a Santa costume. I just don’t want to see you heartbroken again.” She pats your head softly, almost motherly, and you give her your best smile.

13 hours, 45 minutes, 36 seconds until Christmas

The name Min Yoongi swirls around your brain as you stand outside of Bored and Brewed. It’s tucked between a music supply store and a flower shop, leafy plants hanging above the entrance and the large front windows blocked in by thin rectangular frames. You can see warm lights strewn across the cafe from outside, casting it in a golden hue as soft pink chairs and petal green couches decorate the inside. The bell above you jingles and you tersely smile, flashbacks of your embarrassment from misinterpreting a common sound during the holiday season returning. Hoseok gave no description of what Min Yoongi would look like, only stating that he’s a frequenter of this specific cafe given it’s proximity to your university’s music school buildings. Though Jimin mentioned all his friends were leaving today, you’re still hopeful that your soulmate will stick around long enough for you to find them. This is a matter of fate after all, the universe wouldn’t allow you to meet them before Christmas only to end up spending the day alone right? No matter how cruel the world normally seems you refuse to believe it would do this to you.

Upon entry the guy behind the counter smiles at you, then goes back to busying himself on the phone while you look at the menu. You’re not one for liking strong coffee, so your eyes naturally linger towards the sweeter drinks that are on the special menu. The bell to the shop rings again but you don’t pay it any mind, too fixated on trying to figure out what you want.

“I wouldn’t get the peppermint drink if I were you. They load it with sugar and whipped cream so it doesn’t taste like anything.” A voice from behind you says and you nod along. “I’d get the sugar cookie one, it’s not super sweet but also has a nice flavor. It’s the only thing I get that’s not actual coffee.” He hums and you decide to go ahead and order that before you make the guy behind you wait any longer.

“Make that two. I’m feeling particularly generous today.” He hands over some cash before you can say anything and you whip around to face him. Wavy black hair covers his brows, most of it tucked inside a gray beanie. A baggy hoodie and black skinny jeans adorn the rest of his figure and he gives you a tight lipped smile with the edges quirked upwards.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You follow him to the pick up area for your drinks, tucking your hands into your pockets to try and hide your nervous fiddling.

“I try to do a good deed every day so today that’s you it seems.” His voice is low and soft, a quiet rumbling in the wind.

“Well I appreciate it.” You say and silence falls between the two of you. Your mind is searching for something to say to fill the silence but the barista comes by with your two drinks. You’re about to just leave the conversation at the polite end but the barista’s words catches your attention.

“Feel free to buy me a drink sometime Yoongi.” He laughs.

“Yoongi?” You ask and the boy with the beanie turns back to you.

“Yeah?”

“As in Min Yoongi. Hobi’s friend?” You press further and the boy’s confusion turns to skepticism.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well you see I met my soulmate last night at the party but I don’t remember who they were, just that they were wearing a Santa costume.” You murmur, following behind when Yoongi makes a move to leave the shop.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in soulmates. I think you should have a say in who’s right for you.” Despite the coldness of his words, his tone is still soft- sympathetic almost.

“Yoongi wait!” You exclaim, grabbing onto his wrist with your own hand. The bell above the store chimes above you and for a second you allow yourself to believe you’re the one to change how Yoongi feels about soulmates. And yet you feel no goosebumps when your skin touches his, only the slightly dry texture of his palm when he gently takes your hand off him. “The-the bells. I can’t lose my soulmate again, please.” The end comes off as a whisper and Yoongi must take pity on you because he gives you a gentle smile.

“The bells were from above the door. But I can give you the name of another Santa, his name is Jin. He’s the one who hosted the party. He works at the restaurant I play piano for, he should be there picking up his check because the manager is old fashioned. If you hurry you can probably catch him. Two blocks down, it’s the fancy place with the stupid golden archway like a high end McDonalds.” He pats your upper arm twice before walking away. Though you miss the way he turns to watch you run around the small corner mumbling a small good luck at your parting figure.

13 hours, 30 minutes, 23 seconds until Christmas

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the place did have a strange high-end McDonalds feel. The golden arches are spotless, reflecting the red and green lights scattered in some windows of the buildings across the street. The doors are large french ones with gold painted around the trim and a guy in a butler’s outfit opens them for you. You thank him before heading inside, observing the grandiose chandeliers and poinsettias decorating the host stand. A girl with long blonde hair smiles at you before asking if you need a table.

“Actually I was looking for Jin? He has blonde hair and really wide shoulders.” It’s the only information Yoongi offered but the girl in front of you nods in understanding and you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out.

“He just came in to get something so I’ll find him and let him know you’re waiting for him. Can I get your name?”

“Umm just tell him Hobi’s friend is waiting.” You say nervously, pulling at the strings of your sweater to busy yourself. She just nods before walking away and you stuff three of the free mints in your mouth to try and ease yourself. That is before you realize they’re peppermint flavored and instantly start gagging as the taste of last night’s peppermint liquor surfaces. With your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gagging, Jin walks into the lobby and spots you. His eyes widen in recognition, sparkling as he gets nearer. And as he draws closer a distant tinkling sounds rings out and your eyes water with tears. Is your soulmate perhaps the sluttiest Santa of them all?

“I’d remember you from anywhere. You stole my entire bottle of Peppermint Schnapps out of my secret liquor cabinet. I’m surprised you could reach it to be honest, I have to climb on the counter to grab it myself so you must’ve done some serious spider man shit.” He smiles and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You have no recollection of doing that. What had Mina put in your first drink?

“Ahh yes. I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” Your eyes dart to the blonde hostess, perched on the host stand and conveniently leaning toward the two of you to hear closer.

“I was going to steal some food from the back before I left. You want anything?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen with you following him like some lovesick puppy. At this point you refuse to let your soulmate be taken from you any longer.

“What do you have?”

“Anything you could ever want. I’m heading home after this so I need some snacks for the drive.” He picks up a baguette and fruit, before opening the freezer and pulling out ready made desserts and quiches. “You think the caviar is here yet?” He asks to himself before rifling through some more shelves and letting out a loud ‘aha!’

“You hold this.” He says, giving you the expensive caviar and gesturing for you to hide it under your shirt.

“You want me to smuggle it out?” You exclaim and Jin quickly shushes you.

“It’s not smuggling, it’s borrowing. If there’s any left I’ll return it.” He says, pushing you away from the kitchen and walking normally like he doesn’t have a baguette and many other foods in his arms.

“Isn’t that a health violation?” You ask and Jin rolls his eyes.

“What are you? The health inspector? Besides you weren’t worried about health violations last night.” He says, leading you towards the front. The tinkling sound is particularly loud here and you finally gather the courage to question him about your real intentions.

“Speaking of last night, I don’t actually remember much. But I do know I found my soulmate.” You start, looking towards him and Jin hums in acknowledgement. “And he was wearing a Santa suit…so as you know, you were also wearing one. So I was thinking-“

“I’m your soulmate?” Jin says and you nearly drop the bowl of caviar that’s tucked underneath your shirt.

“You are? Honestly that’s such a relief because I’ve been stressing myself out about trying to find them before it was actually Christmas so I don’t have to spend another alone. You said you were having to go to your family’s right? Would I be able to come with? I know we’ve only just met but I can’t imagine having to be alone again and-“ Seokjin has tucked the baguette under his arm, a finger pressed delicately to your lips.

“This is very flattering, truly the sweetest soulmate confession I’ve received thus far. But I have to stop you because I’m not your soulmate. You think you’re hearing bells right? The bus boys are polishing all the glasses and they always knock them into each other.” When he sees your eyes water again he gently wipes the falling tears. “I know you’re looking to find them and I want to help you. You said it was a Santa right? Lucky for you all my friend’s wore the costume because of Taehyung’s punishment. They were betting the length of time it would take Taehyung to smuggle a cat out of the shelter he works at. If you ask me I think it was rigged since Taehyung was the determinator of the bet length but my friends are stupid at best so they overlooked that. I was going to be slutty Santa anyways so I didn’t really care what they did. The only surprise was Taehyung being a freak and wearing a suit as well. Can you believe it was just because he wanted to be festive and not to get someone to sit in his lap?”

You can only sniffle and nod, internally questioning if trying to find your soulmate today was really a good idea. Mina did warn you about the potential heartbreak but you had been stubborn and unwilling to listen. The universe has had it out for you thus far, so why would it suddenly take pity on you and make things easy? “Hey, hey don’t give up. I’ll send you the shelter address and you can stop by when you’re ready. He should be there all day, his family is coming up here tomorrow so he has nothing better to do.” Jin says.

“You don’t think this is stupid? That I’m searching for something that clearly wasn’t meant to happen?”

“I don’t think any matter of the heart is something to criticize. If you really wanna find your soulmate you will, I believe in you. And Hobi must’ve believed in you too if he gave you our government names and locations. He wouldn’t give them out to strangers he didn’t trust. Or at least I hope he doesn’t, I’m much too beautiful to be held hostage.”

“Thanks Jin. That was oddly encouraging.”

“There’s nothing that a pretty face can’t fix. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must coast to the gas station and stand there until someone offers to pay for me. The sugar daddies are normally out right about now so that’s my queue. And when you find your soulmate, tell him he and his garbage truck stomach owe me groceries.”

“You know who it is?” You ask and Jin only shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll see you at the next party y/n.” He winks.

12 hours, 28 minutes, 12 seconds until Christmas

“Did you find them?” Songi asks excitedly when you enter the apartment and you shake your head in reply. You’re not exactly completely discouraged but you feel nowhere near as excited and prepared as you were earlier. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” She asks, tentatively sitting on the couch beside you.

“Can we just watch a fun movie or something? i don’t really want to think at the moment.”

“How about a drama instead? Someone I know really loves Goblin.” She sings, already reaching for the remote.

“Goblin would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve watched it.” You hum, snuggling under a fluffy blanket thrown across the back of the couch and curling up next to Songi.

“You want some popcorn? I can make hot chocolate or something if you want.” She offers but you shake your head and lean your head on her shoulder.

“I just want to mindlessly watch some dramas and pretend I’m the main characters.” You say and she merely nods before turning Goblin on.

“We can do that.” You both settle in comfortably, your body easing as the stress and emotional toll begin to weigh on you. Maybe what you needed was to just relax before putting yourself back out there. Besides Taehyung was supposed to be at the shelter all day, you had plenty of time. And even if you missed Taehyung, even if you didn’t find your soulmate by Christmas, you wouldn’t truly be alone. You had Songi right here with you, someone who had already offered to bring you with her when she saw her family tomorrow. It was with this warming realization that you finally allowed yourself to stop thinking, and close your eyes to get a peaceful sleep.

8 hours, 32 minutes, 56 seconds until Christmas

“You two took a nap and I wasn’t invited? You know napping is my favorite part of the day.” Mina whines, setting bags down onto the kitchen counter before squeezing between you and Songi on the couch. “Oo I love this scene! Though I have to say Nam Joo Hyuk’s swim scenes in weightlifting fairy were the best part of any drama I’ve seen thus far. When I tell you I almost drooled.” She sighs, batting away the pillow that Songi attempts to hit her with.

“How dare you talk about my man like that.” Songi huffs dramatically before pouting. “Besides he’s best as Nam Do San. If I could marry any character it’d be him.”

“He’s cute but I wouldn’t want him.” You say.

“Yes, yes. We all know you like your men older.” Mina cackles, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Hey they don’t have to be! I just- I don’t know, I want someone who could take care of me.”

“In all ways.” Mina giggles, her voice choked when you smack her dead in the face with the pillow beside you.

“None of that in my christian household!” You giggle to which she gasps, accosted.

“Then tell Songi to stop her weird thigh club thing!”

“I am part of the weightlifting club it’s not my fault we focus on squats!” Songi says, her voice rising significantly higher as she attempts to defend herself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t join because you heard Wonho was the president.” Mina challenges, giggling when Songi’s cheeks bloom pretty roses.

“Sh-shut up. If you can have your hoe hours so can I. Besides Wonho’s my friend now, so I don’t admire them as much anymore.”

“You’re right, you admire them respectfully.” You add, laughing harder when Songi flips you off in retaliation.

“I hate you all. I need someone who will truly love me and be on my side.” She whines, standing up and moving to put on her shoes by the front door.

“Where are you going now?” Mina asks.

“To get a cat!” Songi exclaims, grabbing her bag off the rack by the door and storming out. You know she’s not really mad, but you also know there’s a one-hundred percent chance she’s coming back with a cat despite your lease directly stating it doesn’t allow animals.

You settle back onto the couch before your eyes widen and you jump up to put on your own shoes. “And where are you going?”

“I need to go to the shelter to see Taehyung and Songi’s the only one with a car!” You shout, running out the door and after her. You sprint down the stairs, it’s the most exercise you think you’ve gotten this year, and make it into the parking garage just as Songi unlocks her car. “Songi wait! Let me come with.” You yell, crossing over to her and throwing the passenger door open before she can say no.

“If you’re also getting a cat I get first dibs. It was my idea after all.” She says, waiting patiently for you to buckle up before pulling out. “Hey can you find directions for the nearest shelter? I know there’s one on third but I have no idea where third is.”

“Yeah I have the address for one.” You say, pulling up the place Jin sent you.

8 hours, 16 minutes, 24 seconds

The shelter itself is pretty small, but there’s a large fenced-in play area in the back. It’s filled with new toys and the sight makes you smile, especially at the few puppies that topple over each other when they trip while chasing one another. Your eyes linger on them a little longer and your heart pangs a little as you miss your dog from back home. You were supposed to see your family this winter season but all the flights in your home city were too expensive so you’ll have to see them after New Years instead. While you’ll get to see your family in a little over a week, you still miss them greatly especially when everyone is talking about going home to their own families.

“Do you want a dog instead?” Songi asks and you shake your head.

“No I don’t think I’m getting any pets. I have a umm friend who works here though.” You say, tucking your arm around hers and dragging her inside.

“Do you think they’ll give me a discount?” She asks, squeezing your arm when you tense at the little bell ringing above the door. At this point you hate bells and anything that has to deal with them.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll give you them free if you get two.” A smooth voice says, a boy with a black mullet and sharp eyebrows stepping in from the back. He smiles widely at you, rosy lips drawing into an almost blinding smile.

“Two might be a bit much for us.” You laugh stiffly. “I think we’re fine with just one.”

“Cat or dog?” He asks.

“Cat. Do you have any old cats? I’d like to give an elder guy a happy home.” Songi smiles and the beautiful man’s brows pinch.

“Taehyung is more familiar with the cats, I’ll go get him so he can show you around.”

“Sweet, thanks.” She says with a nod, tapping her feet to an imaginary beat. “Do you think I’ll find one that likes me? What if they all hate me?” Songi asks you, worry painted in her features.

“I’m sure they’ll all adore you. You’re difficult to not love.” You tell her, her shoulders sagging in relief.

“I just want to give them all the love in the world.” She says. “Oh do you think they sell collars? Something’s jingling.” She comments and before you can say anything the boy you first ran into last night appears. His boxy smile graces his features, dark eyes and long lashes fluttering as his gaze fixates on Songi.

“You’re the one looking for a cat?” He asks, his baritone voice causing a blush to rise to her skin. In fact, his voice when paired with his features seems to have glitched her brain out because she’s not moving at all. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide as she takes in Taehyung. Several seconds have passed and she has yet to even so much as breathe. You nudge her shoulder and she seems to reboot, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah.” She says breathily.

“Jaebum told me you wanted one of the older ones. I’ll show you the ones who’ve been here the longest too.” He says, urging you to follow him through the door on the left. “The first section is where we keep the older ones, hoping they’ll catch someone’s eye before they see the kittens.” He explains, gesturing to a large enclosure filled with cat beds and towers.

“Can we go inside?” Songi asks and Taehyung nods, opening the gate and allowing you both to enter before a cat can escape. Songi instantly takes a liking to a white fluffy one that’s sprawled on a blue bed in the corner. It’s ears twitch with each step she makes and she pauses when she’s an arms reach away.

“Hello.” She begins introducing herself to the cat and your eyes flicker to Taehyung who gazes at her almost fondly. Your stomach sinks because it’s clear you’re much more aware that Taehyung doesn’t have a belled collar in his pocket than Songi. Seeing her so clueless to her inevitable soulmate standing so close by allows you to give yourself forgiveness for being so clueless yesterday.

“That one’s named Gucci. Named him myself because he’s a rare breed.”

“Does that mean he’s going to be expensive too?” She jokes.

“Probably, he’s an old guy after all. Sometimes they develop health complications. This boy right here is thirteen and has been here for about two years I think?” Taehyung supplies and Songi immediately frowns.

“My poor baby.” She coos, gently reaching forward to scratch behind his ear and then further under his chin. “You wanna come live at my house? I’ll sneak you all the chicken you want.”

The cat just blinks at her, rather slowly, before sniffing her palm. Songi immediately takes this as a yes and tells Taehyung that she’ll take him. “A good choice if I must say so myself. You two look cute together.” Taehyung smiles before his eyes widen until they’re nearly entirely round like he didn’t realize what he was saying until it was already out of his mouth. He doesn’t retract them or try and make them less flirtatious however. He merely just walks away with a slight blush decorating the apples of his cheeks while mumbling about leaving to get paper work and a soft crate.

“You like him right?’ Songi asks and you just shrug despite the large smile pulling at your face.

“Taehyung? He seems really sweet.” You giggle to which she shushes you vehemently.

“He might hear you! Besides he’s way out of my league, there’s no way he’d like me back. Plus I already have a man in my life and he’s right here.” She tugs Gucci into her lap, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“I will not let you turn into a cat lady. You’re already a hermit at twenty.”

“But people make me nervous.” She whines. Taehyung enters again before you can comment any further, the soft crate draped over his shoulder with a fluffy blanket tucked inside.

“I’ll come in with you and when you’re done signing, I’ll put him in the crate. Sometimes they put up a fight when you try and get them in there and I don’t want him scratching you.” Taehyung tells Songi and she just nods along. You can tell she’s stalling because the two pages takes her about five minutes, as she pretends to care about having neat handwriting. You’re pretty sure she’s working up the nerve to say something to Taehyung so you decide to do it for her.

“Taehyung do you have a collar on you? I think Gucci would look really cute with one with like a bowtie bell.” You ask and his mouth parts slightly open, brows pulled together in confusion. It gives off a similar vibe to when your puppy cocks his head to the side when it can’t figure out what you’re saying.

“We don’t have any collars here. We don’t want the animals to get caught on anything and owners usually like to pick out their own.”

“You mean you don’t have one in your pocket?” Songi asks, equally as confused. You love her but for being so academically smart she can be so slow.

“No.” Taehyung says before turning to her with startled eyes. “You can hear bells?”

“Yeah. Should I not be able to?”

“I can hear them too!” He yells, startling half the cats but he pays them no mind as he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you…my soulmate.” He says it dreamily even though Songi is right in front of him and although your chances of finding your own is dwindling significantly you can’t help but be happy for your friend. She’s lit up under Taehyung’s attention, smiling so wide you think your own cheeks are starting to hurt. “And you my little man,” Taehyung says, squishing Gucci’s head between his large hands. “I’m going to be your dad!”

7 hours, 45 minutes, 31 seconds until Christmas

After finally convincing Taehyung to let Songi go, only under the terms that you’ll meet him at a nearby diner to get food, you wind up back in your apartment. Mina is gone, probably either on her way home or out with Hoseok so it’s quiet when Songi enters with Gucci. It’s probably a good thing as Taehyung warned you both that moving was quite stressful for a cat and he’d want a quiet room to hang out by himself until he felt comfortable. Gingerly taking him to her room, Songi sets up his things before opening Gucci’s crate and quietly closing the door. “I hope he doesn’t pee on my stuff.” She comments suddenly.

“I doubt it. He probably won’t even leave the crate for a few hours.”

“You think he’ll like it here?” Songi asks, following you out of the apartment and back down to her car. Taehyung wanted to go to somewhere near his work since he biked there this morning and Songi was happy to oblige even if she normally hates driving at night.

“I think so, I know you’ll shower him with as much love as you can. He’d have no reason not to like it.”

“Taehyung?” She asks, laughing to herself for parroting you from earlier. “I know, you meant the cat. But on a serious note, the cat will like me better than him right? It’d be so depressing for my cat to like my boyfriend more than me.”

“Mmm that one is hard. Your boyfriend is scarily beautiful.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.” Songi whines.

“I am, I’m just speaking facts. It doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful too.” Your phone buzzes and it’s a text from Mina asking what your plans are for tonight. You guess Mina didn’t go home after all.

“Is it okay if Mina comes along? Hobi’s probably with her too.” You ask, already typing out a reply because you know Songi will agree.

“That’s fine. But hey, can you give me directions again? I really don’t know where I’m supposed to be going.”

4 hours, 47 minutes, 27 seconds until Christmas

Songi is sidled up beside Taehyung, his arm resting on her leg while Hobi has his arm wrapped around Mina’s shoulders. You’re all crammed inside a small circular booth, mountains of food spread around the table as you joke around about nothing in particular. You had forgotten Taehyung and Hobi were close friends, having met so many of said friends that it feels like everyone is just a friend of a friend. And yet despite being the only one without a significant other, you don’t feel left out or lonely. In fact, you’re the happiest you’ve been these past two days as you listen to Taehyung ramble on about the time he had to streak across campus.

“Should I be horrified that the campus security guards know what my boyfriend’s dick looks like before I do?” Songi laughs.

“Hey they only got a preview, you get the full movie.” She giggles to which you all collectively groan.

“Gross!” Songi says, making Taehyung beside her pout.

“I don’t know why I thought finding Hobi would make you any less shameless.” You chuckle.

“Hey you all love me like this. Take it or leave it as they say.” Mina says, dipping a fry in ranch before popping it into her mouth. “You sure you can handle all this Hobi?” She asks to which he only winks. Lord help you, there’s two of them.

“I think our best moment was when we convinced Namjoon to sneak into the science labs and set all the testing rats free. Imagine this like six foot tall man screaming as a bunch of little white rats chase after him.” Taehyung giggles.

“What he didn’t know was that Jungkook had stuffed cheese into the pockets of his cargo pants so the rats were trying to get a midnight snack.” Hobi snickers.

“Where’d they all go?” Songi asks.

“They just kinda scattered around campus. I’m sure half of them live near the dining halls now.” Hobi says.

“Do you think they formed packs? Or are they like Remy from Ratatouille and are going to take over as chefs. The dining halls could really use an upgrade. Remember when we used to trek across campus just to get a decent dinner?” Taehyung asks.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you two go and ask them?” Mina snickers.

“Jungkook.” They both say suddenly like that’s a reasonable and valid answer.

“Jungkook.” You repeat, the words somewhat familiar on your tongue. Why did you know that name? Pulling out your phone you look back to the list of names Hoseok had given you of those who wore Santa costumes and gasp. “Jungkook!”

“Yes that is his name.” Taehyung adds dryly.

“Jungkook was wearing a Santa suit! At the party. He’s one of the two left. Do you know where I can find him?” You ask and Hobi shrugs.

“He’s probably gone home by this hour. He was whining so much about missing his mom that I’m sure he left earlier this morning to go see her sooner.” You visibly deflate and Taehyung decides to offer up additional advice.

“Jungkook and Namjoon live together. That’s two of your list right? I’ll send you the address and you can see if anyone is home.”

“Don’t you think that’s a violation of privacy?” Hobi whispers.

“Nah it’s fine. A bunch of porn sights probably track their location with all the viruses Namjoon downloads anyways.” Taehyung says this so casually that you wonder if a big part of Namjoon’s personality is liking erotic videos. You really hope not, soulmate or not. You have a threshold for that type of conversation and Mina is relatively mild but even she regularly meets said threshold.

“Anyways, they’re not that far from here if you want me to walk you there. I live nearby anyways.” Taehyung offers.

“If you’re sure.”

“No problem.”

4 hours, 15 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

The apartment building is small, the colors muted brown and had Taehyung not pointed it out to you, you would’ve missed it entirely. The only source of light is small patio lights strewn between the buildings, the likes of which are only a few stories tall. Taehyung tells you the apartment number before riding off, leaving you to your own devices. Except, you realize too late that despite the buildings being rather old they’ve upgraded to modern systems. Which means you need a fob to get in. You could walk home and call it a night, but at this point you’re just annoyed and stubborn. So instead you meander through the convenience store for a half hour, pretending that you care about the difference between regular and kettle chips when you spot someone walking towards the gate. Abandoning the aisle, you hurry out of the store and cross the street.

“Hey! I lost my fob could you let me in?” You ask, a pleasant smile on your face to try and sway the guy. You can’t see his face well, it’s obscured by a black baseball cap but you can see the distrust in his eyes. “Please?” You try again.

“I guess.” He mumbles, holding the door for you to slip inside. You have half a mind to warn him against doing such things in the case of strangers only to realize that you are the stranger in this situation.

“Thanks!” You say, hurrying away before he can kick you out. The guy working the convenience store was definitely taking note of your blatant loitering and he didn’t seem like the type to ignore it. It turns out the building coordination here is quite complex because while you’d think 101-106 would be on the right and 093-100 on the left, 093-100 is actually the next building over. It’s like they put the apartment numbers in a random generator and just let that decide the order. You’re making your fifth round of building B like a creep when you decide to just sit in the stairwell in shame. It’s clear this apartment complex is your own personal form of hell for trying to best the soulmate system which so clearly doesn’t want you to find your soulmate before the holidays. You already have your phone out to call Mina and express your woes when you hear the door below you attached to the stairwell open. Before you can scramble out of the way a pair of multicolored chunky sneakers stand on the step beneath your own.

“You okay?” The stranger asks and you just nod. “Are you sure? You look a little lost.”

“Metaphorically and physically, yes I am very lost. I have somehow found my soulmate and forgot them within the same day, I’ve been running around the city chasing after fucking Santa like an insane person and I have no idea where the fuck apartment 387 is.” You sigh, glad to release at least some of your pent up frustration. The stranger takes a minute before holding out a hand for you to grab.

“Lucky for you I happen to know where apartment 387 is.” His smile is indented by deep dimples, nicely framing thick lips.

“Really?” You ask, slipping your hand into his own and allowing him to drag you up.

“Sure thing. If you’re this determined to meet your soulmate I’m sure they’re equally distraught at not finding you yet.” He offers thoughtfully and you just hum.

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’d have run into them by now? I’ve been all around the city today.”

“Two moving pieces are just as hard to connect as two not moving at all.” The stranger offers before stopping in front of door 387. Just as you’re about to thank him he unlocks it and looks back at you with a wide smile. “How about you come in and have a drink? He should be home soon anyways. Probably equally as frustrated as yourself.”

“If it’s not a bother…”

“Hey you’re my best friend’s soulmate, you’ll never be a bother. Besides I try and do one good deed a day, so reuniting lost lovers can be that.”

“Funny, Yoongi said the same thing.” You muse to yourself.

“Who do you think taught him? I’m Namjoon by the way.” You freeze, mind struggling to pair the apparent porn addict with the insightful, sophisticated man in front of you. He notices this pause and frowns. “What did one of my idiots for friends say?”

“Uhh…maybe just something about porn.” You mumble and Namjoon just takes a moment to deeply sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“You should know they’re the ones who asked me to download it.” He huffs. “Chamomile or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate is just fine.” You say, taking a a moment to observe the apartment. It’s decorated rather warmly, rich browns and black melding with soft orange. It feels a bit like you’re sitting at the edge of a bonfire, admiring the pretty glow it casts on everything. “Your decoration is really nice.” You say, taking note of the little wooden figures strewn across the living room. A small glass bunny makes you smile.

“Thanks I decorated it myself. I double major in interior design and business.”

“You think you could decorate my apartment? It’s terribly bland because my roommates and I all have different taste in decorating.”

“Sure thing, send me the dimensions and I’ll pick some stuff out. A lot of this is thrifted or from local vintage shops, so it’s not nearly as expensive as it seems.”

“Smart shopping, very sustainable.”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for shopping but a stickler for lessening environmental footprints.” Namjoon says and you laugh, hiding your smile behind the mug he hands you. He even went so far as to add whipped cream at the top with chocolate shavings.

“Thank you. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve had so far.”

“Cool! I got some imported Belgian chocolate and-“

“Joonie I can’t do this anymore.” A third voice sounds before their body even enters the apartment, the front door thrown open carelessly as they flop themselves onto the couch. A jingle plays itself in your head, the bells have a rather bright sound. Namjoon urges you forward and you carry your mug with you just to keep your hands from shaking. “I’ve gone all over the city for nothing and of course when I come home to wallow in pity the bells are mocking me. They’re getting louder with each passing second Namjoon!” They whine, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Would you like a hot chocolate?” You ask and they sit up so quickly that you jump back, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto your wrist. “Fuck! That’s so hot.” You whine, your supposed soulmate jumping over the back of the couch and holding your wrist gently in their hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” They say, but you can’t even feel the burn because your nerves are too focused on his touch. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, as he hurries you into the kitchen to run cold water over your wrist. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, murmuring apologies and yet you can only fixate on the mole on his lower lip and the way his dark hair hangs in his eyes, long lashes blinking away stray strands. His nose is strong, a pretty curve making it much too enticing for you to not kiss it at least once. He seems to notice you’re not paying attention because he finally turns to face you head on and it’s only then does he seem to recognize you.

Similarly to last time his eyes are wide, several emotions running through them that you attempt to read: confusion, surprise, relief. He almost sags against you, pulling you into him before you can even think of anything to say. With your nose tucked into his neck, you can feel his small tremors and attempt to suppress them by pulling him in tighter. “I-I didn’t think-“

“I know.” You shush him softly, taking in how warm and solid he is, how real he feels beneath your palms. He smells like fresh linen, and when he finally pulls far away enough that you can look into his eyes you kiss the tip of his nose. His cheeks flush but the hands on your waist tighten. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, you know?”

He scoffs. “I could say the same. Why’d you disappear yesterday? I thought maybe you realized you didn’t..want me.”

“That could and would never be it.” You reassure him, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. “I hate for this to be our first meeting but I was super drunk when we met. I couldn’t really think and my friend thought I was really sick so she took me home before I had the chance to say anything.”

“Jin did say you drank an entire bottle of schnapps. Thanks for that by the way, now I owe him a new bottle.”

“He knew?! Why didn’t he save us the heartbreak and force us together?” You ask and he turns his head towards the small kitchen window.

Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles, “that might’ve been my fault. I was supposed to be hosting with Joon but decided I didn’t want the mess. By then word already got out so someone had to host. You could say this was my punishment that you unfortunately had to suffer through as well.”

“Next time I’m going to pour his schnapps down the drain instead. Better yet, we’ll buy a bottle, drink it and replace it with thick water!” You huff and he smiles.

“I like the way you think. But what is thick water?”

“I heard it’s the consistency of snot. I guess drinkable jello would be the closest texture.” He scrunches his nose in distaste and you smile. He’s so cute.

“I uhh-I’m Jungkook by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that.”

“Y/n.” He stares at you for a moment before placing both hands on your cheeks and placing a tender kiss to your lips. It’s soft and warm, very much like the man who stands in front of you.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.” He says and despite the cheesy line the sincerity with which he speaks warms you. His hand falls to your own, only when he brushes against your wrist do you hiss and the moment is broken. “Shit, I forgot. Don’t worry baby, I took sports medicine in high school, I’ll fix it up real quick.”

0 hours, 0 minutes, 10 seconds

Jungkook’s arms wrap tightly around your frame, the both of you cuddled into the thickest blanket he could find as you gaze at the city around you. Your wrapped wrist sits carefully against your chest, a heart drawn over the fabric by Jungkook himself. The city lights are so pretty at night, the sky clear enough that if you strain your eyes you can even make out a few stars. The only stars you’re concerned about though are the ones in Jungkook’s eyes, glittering prettily as the sign from the convenience store across the street illuminates them. He takes a sip of Namjoon’s hot chocolate from a thermos before handing it to you, brushing your hair out of your face that’s been displaced by the slight breeze. Despite the fact that you’re both shivering you don’t think you’ve been this warm in a while. It’s part of the reason you insisted to stay out here just a little bit longer even though Jungkook’s warm bed is waiting for you downstairs. You just wanted to be in your own world a little longer, wanting to have an excuse to mold yourself as closely against Jungkook as humanly possible. Clicking his phone the time illuminates, 11:59, staring back at you before flicking to 12:00.

“Merry Christmas Jungkook.” You murmur pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas baby.” He says. Your eyes fall back onto his own and he’s looking at you as if you’re his whole world. You know your own mirror the same sentiment and you press closer to connect your lips to his own, writing your future along his tongue.

103 notes · View notes

abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

Text

Black Locks

“Chief. Mia. Please.”

Wright stood in front of her. Fists clenched. Jaw locked. Plead. Plead the same way he’d plead to lead the Steel Samurai case all those months ago. The way Maya had described him pleading to lead her defense against the attempted murder charge against her.

“Wright what makes you think he doesn’t have an attorney?”

“Please.”

And this was how she ended up sitting across from Miles Edgeworth in the detention center on Christmas morning.

He refused them even as he admits no one will take his case.

“-A wet behind the ears lawyer with three cases under you belt? I’m not that desperate yet.”

“I could lead the defense, if you’d prefer.”

Not that she wanted to. Not that she believes in his innocence.

Wright sat next to her, after she was released from the hospital and slurped his much delayed celebratory ramen. He'd won two cases and they hadn’t had the chance to celebrate even one. He told her why he became a lawyer.

There’s someone I want to save.

He’s told her this before. While swallowed glass settles in his belly. But now it has a name. A face. A smug smile.

She hates that brat. She doubts there’s anything worth saving. Wright just stared mournfully into his ramen like he doubted it too.

Edgeworth grit his teeth. Glared at the wall. “Stay out of this Ms. Fey.” But he offered no counter argument to her offer.

“The lake is a long way away from your offices and the court... Why were you down there?” Wright probed instead.

“I see no reason to tell you.”

She crossed her legs. Leaned back in the chair. What a waste of a morning.

“Edgeworth!” Wright slammed his hands down on the table. Pleading and irritated and desperate all at once.

“… Gourdy.”

“…?” She raised her head to study him. The eyes hidden behind his bangs. The deep purple bags under his eyes. They’re almost satisfying. Knowing he’s enjoying firsthand what he’s done to so many others. Guilty or not.

“I went to see Gourdy.”

The room went dark. Heavy with the slide of chains as they drag over the floor and up to his heart.

There are so many. Bleeding red like his bloody heart.

“But... you didn't do it, right? Right?”

The locks faded as the conversation moved on. But the detention center was far colder now that she knows they exist. She braced for the lie Edgeworth will shovel down their throats and she’ll drag Wright away with an apology about how his friend cannot be saved.

“... Think what you will. I have only one request.”

He hadn’t answered, so he hasn’t lied. She swallowed the irate sigh. What does he want now?

“Stay out of this case.”

She jolted. Back suddenly straight. Her feet click sharp against the floor. “What?! He’s trying to help you!”

Not that she has much proof there was anything worth saving. An objection and aid during a single case did not undo the years prior. There was character evidence piled high enough to kill.

Guilty or not, it probably will. If no one took his case.

“I know...! I know that! But I don't want your help, okay?”

“Why not?!”

His shoulders curve inward. “... Look, just go away, and leave me alone!” He snapped sweeping his hand out with a snarl.

His eyes are red. Bloodshot – although there’s no chance it’s from tears.

“It’s because you did it, didn’t you?”

And somewhere in that black heart of his he knows better than to drag Phoenix down with him.

“Mia!” Wright snaps in a rare displace of force. “Let’s go investigate elsewhere.”

“Wright…”

He stood. The chair screeches against the floor and she watches Edgeworth flinch at the sound.

Fine.

Edgeworth’s detective claimed the man spoke highly of them. Seemed truly dumbfounded that they were turned down. Doesn’t stop him from trying to help.

He hands over a picture of the deceased.

“That’s Robert Hammond.”

The case unraveled before her.

They sit in front of Edgeworth and there are so many locks that there is no way they have enough. But Wright speaks and all the red locks rattle. Like Edgeworth wants to tell him. Longs to tell him.

She wonders, in a passive sort of way, if Wright held the magatama would he see only one?

“DL-6.”

There is a sharp exhale. His head falls forward. The red locks shatter.

“The ‘DL-6 Incident’... was when my father died. Right before my eyes... He was shot and killed, and I saw it all.”

He spoke. Her stomach knotted. DL-6. She wasn’t the only one who lost a parent from that incident.

“My memories from that time are... foggy. I suppose it's a self-defense mechanism. In any case, a suspect was arrested... a man. It's pretty clear he was the only one who could have killed my father.”

Foggy. The room goes dark once more. The slide of heavy chains. Red. She expects red.

They are black. Every lock is black. Dark. Cold. Filled with despair.

A lie he keeps even from himself.

“The spirit medium they used to talk to my late father said the same thing.” Her Mother. “It was an attorney by the name of Robert Hammond that cleared the suspect's name.”

“And Hammond... is the victim in the Gourd Lake murder?”

“Correct.”

There is a danger to black Psych-Locks. That removing them by force will damage the keepers mind.

Blocking out memories in self-defense. He even explained it himself.

The earthquake rumbles but it is the violent rattling of his locks that causes her pain.

He curled up on the floor. Quaking. His locks rattle and in the shaking of his hand and the gasping of his rapid breaths she can see every time they tear at the fabric of his mind.

Worse yet, there is nothing they can do except watch as the guards drag his limp form back to his cell.

Edgeworth warned them about what they’re up against. Von Karma.

It’s not like she hasn’t faced him before. Once. Twice. She doesn’t allow her concern to show but if she gripped Wright’s lapels and shakes him a little harder than she should when she scolds him it’s probably because she knows what a battle this will be.

Wright doesn’t though. He’s blissfully unaware of the nightmare ahead of them. How even getting their legally required cross examination will be an uphill battle.

She really hopes this isn’t how he learns why none of the other attorneys would defend Edgeworth.

What was it he’d said? They ‘Lacked confidence because he’d had all their defendants convicted?’

Edgeworth was lying about that part. And Von Karma was far worse.

“Why did you pick up that gun anyway?!”

He grimaced. Hand digging into his elbow. “I don’t know. I was in a daze when I picked it up.”

Black slide into place. She braces for the cold chill this time.

There is one less locked in place.

Removing them forcibly can damage the owners mind. They were created to protect them after all.

“I know those interrogations can be brutal, how are you holding up?”

He glares at her. The bruises under his eyes speak to his lack of sleep. To the way this has been eating at him.

She hadn’t removed the lock. Neither had Wright.

She wondered who had.

The second day is brutal. They’d almost lost. But as it stood now it looked like they would win.

The locks rattled. Volume growing as it had throughout the entire trial.

“Hey, Edgeworth…”

He didn’t respond. The locks rattled louder.

“Edgeworth!”

He jumped. Dazed eyes focusing on her. “D-did you say something?”

(Oh we were just discussing your case- no need to pay attention. It’s not like it matters to you at all!)

“Come on! Stop looking so pained! At this point we’ve got it in the bag!” She slapped his shoulder. He side stepped away from her. “Relax.”

“… I’m sorry… But… I fear it’s not over for me yet.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

The locks rattled. The chains shook. The truth he hid from even himself.

“Wright... There's something that's been troubling me for a long time now. And I don't know whether or not to tell you...”

Black locks clicked into place. Only three remained.

What had happened to the others?

“No... there's so little time left. I want to tell you, to get it off my chest, but...’

“What is this about, Edgeworth?”

She drew back. Let herself sink into the background.

He saved me Mia. If you could have seen him back then-

I know somethings wrong. I want to pay him back.

He stared down at his attorney’s badge. Closed his fist around it.

I became an attorney because of him. So I could see him again.

Gaaaaaay.

Chief!

Sorry.

If anyone can reach Edgeworth it was Wright.

“... It's... a nightmare I've had. A memory of a crime... that I committed.”

Those locks shake. The heavy grating sound of metal pulling at his mind.

Sometimes people forget things to protect themselves. In self Defense.

“A memory... of a murder.”

“What?!”

They yank and jerk against the chains. Trying to rip free by sheer force.

You’re hurting yourself! She does not object.

“I… I want to tell you but…”

The bailiff doesn’t give him a chance. He’s escorted away.

They stared down at the letter.

“But it says ‘get revenge on Edgeworth’… Why would he want to take revenge on you?”

One lock. Black as total darkness slides into place.

He closes his eyes and it shatters.

There is no evidence of the pain it causes. No bleeding wounds or pained cries.

But he opens his eyes and she is certain something within him has died. He tells them about his nightmare.

Innocence. The illusion of innocence has died.

“But that’s just a dream!” Wright objected when he fell silent.

“… That thought is the only thing that has kept me sane for the last 15 years. But what if I’m wrong? What if it’s real? They say sometimes people shut out memories in self-defense. Maybe it was I who killed my father.”

It’s the truth.

“If you think about it that way, this letter makes sense. Think about it. Yogi was really innocent. That’s why he wanted revenge on me.”

When he confesses on the stand none of them are surprised. Not even Von Karma. How many of those interrogations did they spend together? Did he spend ripping apart the protective locks around his own protégée’s mind?

Wright and her walk home after the first trail.

“You wouldn’t prosecute me, right?”

“Well I’m not a prosecutor so…”

He sinks further into a gloom.

“I’m joking!” Shoulder checked him. “Obviously not.”

Edgeworth is in awe of Von Karma. Awe being a fitting word. Referential respect of both wonder and fear.

Fear.

“You were a child.”

“Accidental murder is still murder Ms. Fey.”

Edgeworth might have given up but Wright. Wright has not.

Trust. Trust your client until the end. This is what she’s taught him.

But… Phoenix. Sometimes the guilty are guilty.

He looked up from the case files. Smiled with a confidence that wasn’t just a bluff.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in your nightmare. It’s just a bad dream.”

There are heavy black locks around Edgeworth’s heart. Protecting him from a ‘truth’ too terrible to believe.

But testimony is flawed and just because he believes in one explanation of events doesn’t make it the Truth.

The truth will set you free. Of the black locks around your heart – she’d thought.

Phoenix does something truly amazing then.

He saves him.

“You are innocent Mr. Edgeworth. You were innocent.”

“… Thank you, Your Honor.”

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #mia fey #phoenix Wright #au mia lives #just cause i wanted to discuss the pshye locks edgeworth would have had if that mechanic had existed #writing

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

beneath the snow filled sky | z.

ATLA - Modern! AU, Zuko x Reader, fluff

tw: none.

word count: 1.4k

prompt: We’re going out in the cold for a walk, and I know you don’t want to get wet, but I’m trying to convince you to make a snow angel with me.

Snow fell peacefully above, spiraling down from the night sky as though each flake was a dancer in a beautiful balet, flitting this way and that, whichever way the music took them. (Y/n) watched the snow from their place beside the front door, their mind vaguely aware of the music playing within Toph’s house, but their entire being focused on the icy beauty of winter.

There was no breeze, and the weather was slowly turning more mild with the hopeful onset of spring; it was a perfect night to sit outside, in nothing more than a sweater and appreciate the wonder that such cold brought.

They hadn’t been out for long when there was movement at the door, and Zuko stepped out. “Hey,” he said softly, rubbing his hands against his arms.

“Hey,” (Y/n) echoed, smiling at him gently before turning back to the night sky, clouded and dark, but with the most beautiful, pristine snow gracing them from above, falling delicately before kissing the ground. For a moment the two stood in silence, (Y/n) noticing the patterns in which the snow fell, and Zuko memorizing the look of wonder in their eyes and the steady manner in which they existed.

They both thought, for a moment that was beyond time itself, that if the world were to stop turning, they could happily spend eternity right here, in the mild cold.

“So,” (Y/n) broke the stillness with an ease unlike any other, “did the others ask you to come get me? Because no offense to them, but I’d rather not suffer through another game of Monopoly.”

“Oh—” Zuko cleared his throat, pulling himself out of his daze “—No, not yet, anyway. Sokka wants to play Uno, but Katara wants to watch a movie, so...”

“...They’re not going to figure it out for another twenty minutes or so.”

Zuko chuckled in a way that was mostly breath, something like a cheerful sigh that brought a contentedness into his eyes and a casual grin to his lips. (Y/n) stuck their hands in their pockets, only now starting to feel a chill.

“Do you want to go on a walk with me?”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, but would you rather listen to their complaining?”

“You’re not cold?”

“Not if we get moving.”

Zuko looked out at the frozen world that surrounded him: the snow, the icicles, the slick patches of ice where even the best of shoes lost their traction, and the frigid air. How any of it could be the least bit enjoyable was beyond him, and yet, (Y/n) could never get enough of the winter months, and whenever they spoke of its beauty, there was an earnestness in their voice that made him believe in their sentiment. Part of Zuko wanted to just go inside, sit by the fire, and watch the room devolve into chaotic arguing. Toph and (Y/n) would sit on either side of him, and they’d make sarcastic remarks until Katara dragged Toph into the fighting and things would escalate until he or Aang eventually intervened.

But a nagging part of Zuko (smaller, but incessant nonetheless) told him to look at (Y/n) in the eye, knowing that once he did, he wouldn’t be able to say no. It was odd, knowing that part of him no longer existed for himself, and the fear of that knowledge was enough to convince him to go back inside, but then (Y/n) shifted beside him, asking him what he thought, and he looked.

And there they were, smiling in a way that would have been self righteously smug, had it not been for the hopeful question that swimmed in their gaze.

“Let’s go.”

(Y/n) smiled and the expression didn’t melt away but rather lingered as they set off down the snowy sidewalks, going nowhere in particular. Zuko rubbed his icy fingers together, wishing he hadn’t left his gloves in the pocket of his coat, back at Toph’s, and when (Y/n) noticed his fussing at a street corner, they stopped.

“Come here.” They offered their hands to him, and Zuko hesitated for a moment before putting his hands in their open palms. The rubbed their hands over his, and the warmth they generated was enough to send his cheeks ablaze. “You’re fingers are freezing! We really should have gotten coats or something before setting off - at least we both have sweaters, though.”

And Zuko couldn’t get anything out other than a strained “Yeah,” that made (Y/n) chuckle.

“C’mon, we’ll finish the loop around the block and then we can head back inside.”

(Y/n) continued to walk, but their hands never let go of his. Zuko found himself acutely aware of the feeling of their hand in his, warm and alive - squeezing his with care and something akin to... well, like the raging fire he felt in the pit of his stomach, but kinder, softer.

“What do you like about winter?” Zuko surprised even himself, and (Y/n) turned to him with an expression more warm than the last.

“Everything, I guess.” They turned their head to the heavens and a snowflake fell on their cheek. “Sure, the snow is beautiful and all, but it’s more than that, too. Winter it... it brings people together. I mean, when was the last time we all got together and played Monopoly?”

They had a point, there, but whether playing a three hour long game of Monopoly was for the better was debatable.

“The days just seem longer in the winter, and you find time for everyone you’ve been missing. Sure, it’s cold and most everyone is miserable” —(Y/n) eyed Zuko pointedly and he faltered— “but then you comes together to celebrate what little you have.”

They were back at Toph’s, now, and they faced the front door with a sense of reservation, as though neither wanted to break the moment, just yet. Zuko looked at (Y/n) from the corner of his eye, and they locked gazes. “You always have us.”

(Y/n)’s eyebrows shot up, their eyes lighting with something bright and pleasant, and eventually they settled. They squeezed Zuko’s hand. “That I do.”

Shouting erupted from the house in front of them, strong enough to rattle the windows, and Zuko and (Y/n) sprung apart. They both hesitated for a moment before laughing, the sound warm and from the belly.

“Do you think they’ll kill each other in there?”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “I’m sure they can sort it out themselves. Besides, have you ever made a snow angel before?” Zuko found himself caught between an exasperated laugh and some sort of stammered response, and (Y/n) snorted. “If you haven’t, then I demand to teach you.”

“I’ve made one before!”

“Then you won’t mind proving it?”

“(Y/n), I’ve made a snow angel before!”

“Then come make on again! I promise not to tell Sokka, if it’s that damaging to your pride.” (Y/n) sat down on the snow, a challenging smile in their eye. Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but (Y/n) cut him off. “And don’t say anything about getting wet, because we’re five steps from the house. We’ll be beside the fire before you even get cold.” (Y/n) laid back, spreading their arms out and fixing Zuko with a pointed look.

��I’ve made a snow angel before,” Zuko grumbled, laying down beside (Y/n) and eliciting laughter from them.

“You’re cute when you’re angry - y’know that?”

And Zuko was glad that they were both moving their arms enough to hide the way his face heated up at their comment.

(Y/n)’s arms slowed to a stop, they were quiet as they stared up at the night sky above, once again lost in the beauty of it all. Zuko brought his arms to a stop near theirs, so that their fingers were just barely brushing, and he looked at them with a fondness that made him look peaceful - happy, even.

“You really love the snow that much?” and it was barely a whisper, but (Y/n) heard anyway.

They turned to him, and fixed him with a smile that was more bashful than before, something that made Zuko’s heart beat faster in his chest, perhaps from the intimacy of it all. It was just them beneath the snow filled sky, after all, blanketed in the dark of night. “I love the company more than anything else.”

And Zuko felt his heart constrict in such a way that all he could get out was a strained “Yeah?” but it made (Y/n) chuckle as they caught his fingers in their own.

“Yeah.”

-- taglist: @coffee--writes // message me if you want to be added to the taglist!

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko imagine #zuko one shot #zuko fanfic #imagine #one shot #fanfic #fluff #holiday prompts #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering.

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse.

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers.

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided.

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much.

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise.

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.”

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.”

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings.

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?”

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit.

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.”

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.”

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke.

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka.

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened.

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh.

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here.

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord.

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat.

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.”

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes.

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone.

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that—

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it.

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly.

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together.

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest.

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.”

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned.

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly.

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.”

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her.

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered.

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee.

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned.

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh.

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —”

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him.

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her.

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—”

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.”

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter.

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk.

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was.

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.”

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—”

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.”

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away.

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly.

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.”

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled.

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased.

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to.

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.”

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack.

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly.

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up.

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order.

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics.

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process—

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that.

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to—

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled.

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.”

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket.

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.”

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?”

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him.

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.”

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him.

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond.

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.”

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again.

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic

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