#but despite that u get a sense of peace when the game is finished

[spageddy]

theory - diavolo is nightbringer??

this is mostly a joke but yeah. i’ve seen posts explaining why every side character could be nightbringer except diavolo so i am here to fill that void

disclaimer: i haven’t even finished the first game i’m stuck on lesson 27 cuz my cards are shit

nb spoilers ahead

ok so things that could make diavolo nightbringer:

1. he is old as hell and a demon which nightbringer is probably a demon. and old as hell

4. he is crazy overpowered like do we even know the extent of his powers.. he also controls when and how barbatos uses his time lord powers so he has those at his disposal too

2. has a UR card that’s about apple picking and apples are like the forbidden fruit or whatever, what if it was diavolo who gave adam and eve those shits and that’s why adam was stuck in the devildom for a while? if diavolo is nightbringer that explains how adam knows him, also maybe diavolo felt bad for him so that’s why he told him about the ring that could get his ass back to the celestial realm

6. diavolo and nightbringer’s goals are not necessarily in conflict. diavolo wants to build a better relationship between the three realms and nightbringer wants to bring night to the world whatever that means, probably has something to do with the devildom becoming more powerful than the other realms. maybe diavolo wants to become the ruler of all 3 realms so he can make sure things stay peaceful for everyone

73: one other thing nightbringer wants is for MC to be happy which diavolo also wants along with like the entire cast, however nightbringer doesn’t rly give us a choice in the matter and acts like he knows what’s best for us. diavolo is guilty of this sometimes too and can be pushy when he wants something because he thinks he knows what’s good for other people

94. i think diavolo has good intentions but he’s still a sussy baka just like nightbringer. can’t help being a scorpio.. sure he never lies but he’s still kinda shady sometimes. like the whole deal with raphael threatening war if the brothers don’t go back to the celestial realm. when diavolo agreed to let the brothers stay i was like ?? dude they’re gonna nuke everyone what is u doing. his decision only makes sense if he knew michael was just joshing all along (which he probably did because he can tell when people are lying). but in that case why would u go along with the bit like that when the stakes are so high and giving everyone anxiety? not funny babygirl

15. other sussy baka moments are his comments about destiny and shit, knowing full well he has a time butler who can manipulate the past and future to what he wants it to be (this power is probably limited like diavolo from jojo’s power but still crazy to believe in fate when u can literally choose it yourself)

i don’t think past!diavolo could be nightbringer but he might be aware of his other self’s intentions and that’s how he knows we have a connection and trusts us despite barely just meeting each other in this timeline

8. seems like a really long winded and unnecessarily complicated plan to make us go through 80 lessons then cancel that timeline and send us to the past but diavolo has been known to make some pretty big sacrifices for the sake of his goals. he sent us into the past before in lesson 16 where we died but one version of ourself survived so that apparently makes it all ok, also was going to kick us out of the devildom for the sake of his reputation, and some other stuff i forgor

anyway every other demon king has died in combat (with the celestial realm perchance?) so it makes sense that diavolo wants to do everything possible to save his own ass (and the entire world from getting destroyed by the celestial realm) even if it means some of his other selves get obliterated

or maybe none of this means anything and nightbringer is actually just maddi the witch or some shit. sorry for making diavolo sound like an ass i actually like him a lot i just like coming up with silly theories more and solmare’s bad writing makes it easy

[takamishinko]

footprints and doubts

this is the longest piece we’ve written so far and it drained the living crap out of us :,D but hope u guys enjoy !

pronouns: gender neutral 

warnings: nothing really other than jealousy, angst, and crying, self thought cheating

a/n: r/n is region name btw

________________________________________________________________

honestly you found it hard to believe that little ol’ you from r/n could befriend let alone become someone important to ajax. the great tartaglia, 11th of the fatui harbingers, his name itself could strike fear into anyone. yet here you were, standing next to him with your hands intertwined with his at the lantern rite festival. you would give the world to him if you could, you loved him so much. he was so different from your last significant other who had been unfaithful towards you. 

‘you’re just too boring.’ they had told you apathetically. you frown thinking about it.

you felt ajax gave your hand a small tug, "hey y/n why don't we go over there? looks like chef mao is cooking up something good." he spoke with a cheery grin on his face.

you snap back into reality as you felt his hand pull you out of your thoughts. you gave him a terse nod and the two of you made your way to wanmin restaurant.

after waiting a while in line, the two of you were next. chef mao looked up and practically shat himself at the sight of the male next to you. 

“hello y/n! i hope you’ve been enjoying the festival, " chef mao spoke nervously, his eyes gliding to the male next to you, “y...you too sir childe.” he sputtered out. right, ajax was the one who tried to destroy liyue not too long ago after all. you shook your head, right now you were with ajax, not childe.

"woah woah woah. calm down chef, you know that’s history now. besides, i’m just here to enjoy the festival with y/n." ajax assured, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

you gave the chef a slight smile and spoke,"don’t worry chef. i’m sure he doesn’t have plans other than being with me tonight." you teased. 

the chef sighed in poorly concealed relief and returned to his usual self as he took your order. ajax ordered the specialty for today, the crystal shrimp. after a small wait, the two of you waved chef mao goodbye after he gave you two your food. the warm dish let out puffs of steam and glistened under all the light of the lanterns due to it's crystal clear skin, there were 4 in total, the wrapping for each was folded into the shape of a flower. they were so pretty, you almost felt bad for eating them. 

sitting down on a nearby bench, the two of you enjoyed the crystal shrimp while making small talk. the crystal shrimps were delicious themselves but it felt better to enjoy them with someone you loved. 

after finishing the food, you and ajax had a great time. you guys played a few rounds of theatre mechanics, ruijin was pleased at how skilled the two of you were and rewarded both of you with hefty prizes. upon bumping into zhongli, the three of you decided to enjoy some tea with him. after bidding farewell to the funeral consultant, the two of you released some xiao lanterns and watched as they floated into the night sky. 

feeling a bit tired, the two of you then decided to relax and take a walk instead of participating in games. as you and your boyfriend were strolling around the harbour, something, or someone caught his gaze. you look over to where his eyes were trailing to.

oh.

a beautiful young lady dressed in a white dress with a cecilia tucked into her golden blonde hair and a puffy companion floating by her side waved at ajax. her smile brighter than the sun and her movement as graceful as the moon. her honey glazed eyes shone with familiarity and glee at the sight of him.

of course you recognized this girl. she was none other than the otherworldly traveler, lumine. she fought alongside the liyue qixing and even the adepti to defeat the great osial. the people of liyue spoke about her often, everyone knew how she had also earned the title of honorary knight in mondstadt and defeated one of the four winds despite her young age. 

you were once again brought back into reality when ajax spoke, "hey babe ill be right back okay? i wanna catch up with lumine real quick." 

you felt his hand leave yours, the warmth dissipated with it. you felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble up as you watched your boyfriend run to someone else, leaving you alone by yourself to stand in the sea of lanterns and people. 

it didn't feel right.

you stayed in place with a dejected look for a while waiting for ajax to return but he was taking a while so you decided to go check what was going on with him.

"-but then teucer decided to do it anyway!” you hear ajax’s boyish voice ring out with amusement.

as the blond and the redhead laughed together. you couldn't help but think about the two looked enchanting with each other.

you shook your head and decided to make your presence known. "ajax-" 

ajax perked up, "oh! babe sorry to keep you waiting let me introduce you. lumine this is my partner y/n!" ajax exclaimed with a cute grin.

you gave lumine a small wave and spoke with a polite smile, "it's a pleasure to meet you lumine." 

"it’s nice to meet you too y/n.” lumine replied cheerfully.

now that you’ve got a better look at the blonde, she's so much more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. 

her velvety blonde hair fell gracefully, her porcelain skin was practically glowing without a single visible blemish, her golden eyes shone with beauty that rivaled cor lapis. to wrap it up, her short stature was presented with grace and poise. all in all, everything about the blonde was nothing less than perfection.

everyone loved her and you could understand the reason behind it very well. gorgeous, kind, and righteous, the hero of every region everyone respected. you couldn’t help but wish you were like her instead of your boring self, without a vision, without any standing out achievements either…

you started to space out while the two started up a conversation again, thinking about the feelings you were currently having. why were you feeling like this?

"hey babe we should get going! it's getting late." the voice of your lover broke you out of your thinking.

you were overthinking a lot today huh. "oh. we probably should get going then." 

"bye ajax! bye y/n! it was really nice meeting you." lumine said with a pearly smile gracing her features. she then walked off to find her floating companion who was near a food stall inhaling dish after dish of food.

wait.

ajax..? he wasn’t childe or tartaglia to her, but ajax. you didn't know how to feel upon hearing the real name of your boyfriend slip out of the blonde. you knew how secretive ajax could be when it came to his family and personal life so the fact that lumine knew his real name put a feeling of unease within you.

the way home was pretty quiet, you didn't want ajax to notice that you were feeling off. you felt so guilty for having these feelings about him and lumine but you couldn’t help it. your last relationship had practically trampled on your ability to trust others, you could never tell if someone was lying to you or being truthful. you contemplated telling him how you felt but you decided against it, you’ve never been great at expressing your feelings after all. however, after a while of him blabbing about random topics, you couldn’t curb your curiosity any longer and realized you wanted to know more about your lover's relationship between him and lumine.

after a while of peaceful silence, you let out a small breath, "hey ajax?"

“yes y/n?" 

"who is lumine… to you?"

ajax perked up at the sound of the blonde's name, "lumine? she's a good friend and a formidable opponent of course. it's been a while since i’ve fought with someone who could keep up with me on the battlefield!" ajax spoke with enthusiasm.

you felt a twinge of pain shoot into your heart at the tone that your lover used when speaking about the blonde. did he speak like that when he was talking about you? 

"oh… i see. she must be a very powerful person then." you replied with feigned glee.

ajax noticed that you were in low spirits, "why? is something wrong?" he questioned with slight worry.

"no! i'm alright. i was just curious because you two seemed… close." you lied. you weren't ok, but you didn't know how to tell him. probably because you didn't even know why you felt such-

envy 

that was what you were feeling. not petty jealousy or sadness, you were envious. envious of lumine. her beauty, her strength, her personality, everything. the feeling consumed every inch of your body and dyed you green. your insecurities swallowed you up and spit you out, rendering you vulnerable against the little demons that poked at your thoughts.

when the two of you got home and freshened up, ajax practically passed out the second he lied in bed with you. on the other hand, you stayed wide awake, stuck thinking about the way lumine and ajax interacted. the smiles, the laughter, the fond looks they gave each other plagued your mind, rendering you unable to sleep. after a while of staring blankly at the ceiling, you groaned and carefully lifted the sheets to not wake your lover and got out of bed to make yourself a cup of tea. you used the tea leaves you bought from pops kai, the calming properties of the tea always helped you when you felt down. 

"they're just friends, don't overthink it, just friends, just friends." you whispered to yourself, trying to give yourself a sense of reassurance. after finishing the tea you got back into bed,  it was hard but you eventually fell asleep next to your lover.

next morning, you were woken by the sound of your boyfriend walking around in the living room doing something. it was only around 7am so you were wondering why up so early as he usually woke up at 8. you groggily walked out of the bedroom.

ajax noticed you and smiled fondly at the cute sight of you rubbing your eyes. "good morning babe, did i wake you up? sorry about that, i was just getting ready to go train."

"oh. by yourself?" somehow, you had a feeling of where this conversation was headed.

"no, with lumine, we made a deal yesterday to go to yaoguang shore today to fight some ruin guards and hunters for materials!" he chuckled.

lumine. lumine

the name echoed in your mind like a mantra. you were aware of his weekly spars with the blonde but today would be the second day he went out with her this week. a part of your heart told you to stop him, another part told you to let him go. in this internal battle, you chose the latter and let him go. after all, who were you to stop him? it's not like you could be the one to satisfy his thirst for battle, only someone like lumine could.

you were having a day off due to the lantern rite festival, but to be honest it's not like you needed the money. with the amount of money ajax had he could probably support you and your next 4 generations. with your spare day, you decided to clean up the house because it was a bit messy due to teucer playing around the day before. 

while cleaning up you found a spare xiao lantern that teucer was supposed to release when he came over. since you had spare time you decided to set another lantern yourself, it would be a waste to not use it after all. as people say, during the lantern rites, put your wish into a lantern and set it into the sky for it to become true. 

"i wish to stay with ajax, till death does us apart." 

you only hoped he felt the same way about you.

you put the note in the xiao lantern and set it off into the sky, you watched with sentiment as it floated away towards the clear blue sky.

you had a hard time focusing on the task you were doing for the rest of your day so you decided to take your mind off things and go take a look around liyue harbour to see if there was anything worth checking out, or buying. 

liyue harbour contained the usual, the fragrance of grilled tiger fish wafting from the stand next to where you would usually buy your groceries, the kids messing around near the boats, and you even met xiangling who tried to offer you her new recipe of jade parcels but you kindly refused. 

after that you went to give the adorable little pharmacist, qiqi, a visit. she was under the  cashier stand like usual, you gave her a little pat on the head and asked for the usual medicine you buy for ajax. 

you then bumped into zhongli, who was also strolling around. the two of you chattered about the festival and other shenanigans before bidding each other farewell. the amount of history about liyue and its traditions the man was familiar with would never fail to surprise you.

there wasn’t really anything left for you to do in the harbour so you started to head back home. not far away from the liuli pavilion you saw a familiar redhead talking to the owner of mingxing jewelry with a shorter figure standing beside him. 

upon closer inspection, you noticed it was ajax with someone else at a jewelry shop looking at the items. it was none other than lumine standing next to him. you watched as lumine picked out a piece of jewelry from the stand that would look so well on her. the gem glowed it’s colour under her smile and looked more fitting than ever. weren’t they supposed to be at yaoguang shore?

without second thought ajax bought the jewelry in lumines hand and put it in a gift bag with a look of tenderness. your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, you felt as if the world was crashing down on you. your breathing quickened and your heart palpitated at alarming rates. every little insecurity that was planted in you had finally finished blooming. was this really going to happen to you a second time? was once not enough for the entertainment of the gods?

that was when he saw you, standing only a little bit away from him holding the items you purchased for him and the fresh groceries you were going to use to cook dinner for him.

ajax’s eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, “y/n!? why are you he-” he was tense, you noticed, just like your ex-lover when they were caught.

you tried to regulate your breathing and spoke, “stop.” you managed to say, cutting off ajax before he could finish his sentence. he flinched at your dull tone.

“y/n! i know what you’re thinking but i promise we were just-” ajax hurriedly tries to explain.

“don’t. i think i've seen enough childe.” he frowned at the use of his moniker. 

your lips trembled, water collecting at the bottom of your eyes. ‘don’t cry. don’t cry, don’t cry.’ you repeated in your head, you didn’t want to appear weak in front of the two. your ajax who you loved so much, who you cared for so much, who you were planning to spend the rest of your life with, is now buying jewelry for someone else after lying to you.

“i was foolish this entire time, of course. instead of someone like me, a visionless nobody you would choose her over me. you’re just like-” your voice cracked as you forced the words out of your tightened throat. 

“y/n it’s not like that! please just let me explain!” ajax pleaded urgently. he hated that you were talking bad about yourself.

after gaining a smidge of composure you decided you couldn’t be near the two, “no need childe, i understand. now if you’ll excuse me, i'll be on my way.” you muttered and brushed past the two. 

“wait y/n!-” he reached out to grab your arm before the blonde next to him stopped him.

lumine sighed and spoke up after staying silent, “let them go for now. leave them alone for a bit, they need some time to think. it’s understandable why someone would be upset if they saw their lover with someone else like this.” she comforted before patting him on the back.

“yeah. i guess you’re right...” ajax murmured with a crestfallen look. he regretted not communicating with you, otherwise this wouldn’t have happened. he should’ve cleared up any suspicions you had and reassured you. he knew about how you weren’t confident due to your last relationship. gods, he felt like he was worse than your dirtbag of an ex.

you walked towards your home slowly trying to process what just happened. your tears already ran dry and you didn’t think more were able to escape from your eyes. the fading sunset seemed so blurry yet peaceful. somehow, instead of walking home, you ended up near yaoguang shore which happened to be the spot you and ajax would go to often. his name brought bitter feelings back as you remember the events that just happened but you took a deep breath and sat on the sand across from the shore. you listened to the sound of the ocean, the waves dousing the sand it touched. you took notice of the starconches laying on the sand. 

feelings of melancholy welled up inside you. these are ajax’s favourites. the blue shells reminded you of his eyes. his lovely eyes were the blue of the waves of the sea, they crashed into you and pulled you into them. you could spend all day swimming in the infinite hues until you drowned.

you buried your head onto your knees and let out a pained cry you’ve been holding in. here, where no one can find you, where no one can hear you. only the ocean will hear your troubles and worries, you hoped it could wash them away and you could forget about them forever. you sat there in peace by yourself for what felt like hours.

you sighed and decided that you should get going, but to where? you didn’t want to see ajax if he’s even going to be there at all. maybe you could crash at zhongli’s place…

 just as you were about to leave you heard a familiar voice behind your back. “y/n!” it was the man you loved, ajax, sprinting to you with the same gift bag he was holding in his hands at mingxing jewelry. 

you turned around to look at him. your hair was flowing in the wind with the sunset behind your back. to ajax it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life. 

“i knew you’d be here.” ajax spoke with relief.

you looked away from him not knowing how to feel right now about your “lover” and stayed silent.

“y/n. i swear it wasn’t what it looked like, i would never do that to you. lumine and i really don’t have anything going on in between us, i chose you as my partner and i plan on keeping it that way for the rest of my life. in fact,” ajax murmured while opening up the gift bag he was holding. it was a bracelet with a fine piece of noctilucous jade in the middle with cor lapis fragments decorating the border of the blue gem. the jewelry wafted with fragrances, the morning dew smell from a qingxin, the classical smell of the harbour from a silk flower and lastly the everlasting aroma of violet grass.  

“do you like it? lumine and i picked it out for you at mingxing jewelry for our upcoming anniversary. i just wanted her opinion on what to choose for you. this was one of the most beautiful pieces that they had. i heard it took a super long time to make, oh! the jade in the middle will also make the bracelet glow in the dark! pretty cool huh?” ajax smiled as he lifted your wrist to put it on you.

at a loss of words, you lifted your head up at the male and gave him a soft smile, “thank you ajax… i love it, it’s perfect in every way possible.”

“just like you.” the redhead spoke fondly with a grin on his face while softly stroking your hair.

“oh shut up you flirt.” you tried to hide your smile as you both giggled on the beach with the sunset dripping behind you two. 

after a while of being engulfed in ajax’s arms you spoke, “ajax, i want to apologize for jumping to conclusions about you and lumine. i..you know about how i find it hard to trust people sometimes but it was unfair for me to do that to you, i know you would never cheat on me.” you spoke, hugging him tighter as if he would leave if you get go. 

“y/n. don’t you dare think for a second that i’ll leave you for someone else ok? you’re the only one in this world that i want and it’s staying that way. i don’t care if you’re visionless, or if you don’t have any achievements whatsoever. i still love you so so much.” ajax exclaimed as he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

you felt a certain warmth as your face flushed. how did you end up with someone as perfect as ajax. you lifted his face with your hands and pressed your lips against his. he deepens the kiss and your heart melts.

“thank you ajax. i’ll always be by your side too, no matter what happens. my love for you has no ends.” you speak with pure affection as you nuzzled your face into ajax’s soft yet firm chest. 

ajax feels his face heat up and he quickly speaks, “c’mon now, let’s go home, i can’t wait to taste your cooking after running around all day today.”

the two of you walked together on the beach, hand in hand, leaving footprints and doubts in the sand.

________________________________________________________________

special msg from my dear editor: hey lol - @kamihara​ , my works wouldn’t be nearly as good if it weren’t for them so go give them a follow please :)!

[starboltprojects]

This is a new non-profit game guide for the Wii U game - Xenoblade Chronicles X. It concluded work a week or so ago, and most of the information inside is new to the internet. And I’m the author.

So, to anybody who knows me from university or elsewhere, my last five months after my Masters finished (more like mid-August to September, then late September to Mid-December, then mid-January to Present), have been spent in the darkest depths of a JRPG datamine, checking through hundreds of columns in tables like these.

Definitely not the natural environment of a perceived 3D artist, yet I’ve been attacking it with the same kind of fervor that created my first transformer.

Lots of underscores and numerical references in need of interpretation, which I was constantly hopping back and forth between tables for. Needless to say, I’ve learned a thing or too about dev commons cataloguing convention. I can imagine my programming lecturers back at Staffs can appreciate what it’s like going through these kinds of tables, and would probably chuckle when I say my head was down in these for about three full months.

Xenoblade Chronicles X (Wii U) - Monolith Soft, is the same game which my INFERNO Skell 3D piece came from. It’s a game I’m intimate with, and for a Wii U JRPG, it's renowned for being a technical marvel, fitting a seamless open world, larger than the one in Breath of the Wild and as dramatic as Avatar’s Pandora, onto the Wii U hardware.

It’s also dense, brimming with micro-management philosophy, augmentation for every possible battle tactic, and featuring over 100 different kinds of fantastic enemies to fight. But at the time of delving into this datamine, big pieces of information about the creatures’ capabilities were simply not covered. You couldn’t pick up a guide or the in-game enemy index and find anything useful about them to help you plan a fight. And without that intimate knowledge, battles just devolve into damage sinks. 

And this became the topic of my digging. I’ve played the game twice and run up against walls I couldn’t beat on both playthroughs. I refused to go to the effort of customising a build to beat tougher enemies without having all of the information I needed, and while plenty of guides exist on builds and gear, none exist for enemies, and the game’s in-built enemy index is functionally useless. I wanted to make my own enemy dex for Xenoblade, like the pokedex in Pokemon, so I could arm myself with that sense of knowledge and control. 

But it goes deeper than just personal peace of mind. There’s a let’s player I follow - Chuggaaconroy, who’s known for in-depth let’s plays of games covering everything a game offers, particular JRPGs, who loves Xenoblade Chronicles. I was anticipating, and had seen evidence of, a let’s play of Xenoblade Chronicles X being planned by him. I wanted to see him NAIL this game, expose it for all of its richness and, knowing his calibre and the herculean task it would be to apply it to XCX, I became an editor on the game’s wiki in 2018 and reached out to Emile (Chuggaaconroy), asking to help with any info I could get my hands on. He told me a let’s play, were it to happen, would be some way away, likely after a Switch port. In hindsight I’m thankful it hasn’t happened yet, since a Masters has occured in my life between starting and finishing this endeavor.

Back then I’d originally planned to just grab the base stats for every species when the game’s index only displays a range specific to level-bracket. I thought it was something I could achieve with my available resources. But then, when the datamine was shared with me, my list lengthened to include:

 - Arts – Attribute, Category, Hit No., Direction, Scaling, Cooldown, Effects - At least 3 of these per enemy, and increasing

- Appendages – Hardness, Skell Targetability and Exposure

- Battle Skills – Aura Effects, Tiers and Duration, Spike Scaling, Attribute, and Rate of Damage, and other invisible Skills and Enhancements

- Immunities & Resistances to Debuffs

- Size-Category

- Stats

& Drops – Armor, Weapons, Skell Armor, Skell Weapons, and Materials & their crafting use

For context on the quantity of information that amounts to, just add up the number of capitalised points on that list, multiply it by 110 or so, and then assume the time necessary to locate and translate the relevant information from the tables.

By May of 2018, I was organising the findings onto spreadsheets for the information, and translating it to a document guide. Then I started the Masters and it was put on hold, about a dozen species done, but some still with gaps and ?s that I hadn’t worked out from my digging. But in August of 2020, Emile teased a let’s play which had the potential to be Xenoblade Chronicles X, which spurred me to pick up the work while concluding my dissertation piece. It turned out to be a different Xenoblade, but then I was in the clear of the Masters and working in earnest, identifying everything I’d previously been unsure about and concluding first drafts of all 100+ entries going into December. The time since has been spent on a handful of further additions, then editing, until we come to February 2021, where everything is ready.

I did have some help from a collaborator by the online handle of Abarax for playtesting, and in the process of the digging I’ve also ended up building several more documents for look-up purposes. And I’ve produced a full set of clean portraits for the enemies which the wiki was previously lacking.

I know hundreds of players will be able to benefit from these guides. Truthfully, despite whatever preconceptions my portfolio pieces would have people believe, this project is just as in line with getting me closer to my dreams as building technically impressive transforming robots. My passion lies in JRPGS – Pokémon, Xenoblade, Final Fantasy, Persona, Kingdom Hearts. Getting to work with one during this project has been immensely fulfilling. 

In total, my findings have produced a little less than 200 pages of new and clear information. I’ve already shared them both with the game’s wiki and made proposals to have the information in them implemented in their pages. I’ll let the guides speak for the rest.

PRESENTING NEW GAME GUIDES

-       Xenoblade Chronicles X - Enemy Notes + Augment Crafting Guide

-       Xenoblade Chronicles X - Enemy Info Sheets

And I’ll add this response I got from one of the moderators after they’d looked through it.

And a poster -

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: mutuals 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: miyoshi kazunari/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: me? back w/ fluff? it’s expected at this point! his speech is hard for me to replicate, but I rly do love Kazunari so I hope I did this scenario justice! I, uh, got too excited at the prospect of “insta mutuals” oops~ hope you don’t mind the additional media TT

The Insta notification that popped up on the top of your screen distracted you from the game you were playing. Normally you’d flick the notif away, but as soon as you realised what it was about, you rushed to finish the rest of the stage.

You and Kazunari have been Insta Mutuals for nearly a year now, ever since he hit you with a follow and you proceeded to stalk his readily-available socials. 

The two of you had been liking and commenting on each others’ posts for weeks on end, starting off with you praising his most recent graphic design work to him sending a paragraph of heart emojis on the most recent fan art you drew.

Somewhere in between following each others’ spam accounts to tagging each other on Insta story games, he finally slid into your DMs and the rest was history. Sort of.

You knew what people said about online dating, or even just long distance relationships in general, but try as you might it was hard not to fall for Kazunari.

The more you talked to him, the less he stayed as your “funny artist mutual” and soon enough he progressed into the “still funny but also really sweet and cute artist online friend, 10/10 would date if asked” category.

You didn’t bother stifling your laugh as you looked at the message he sent you, immediately liking his selfie before saving it on your phone.

Okay, no. He can’t just hit you with an “I do wanna meet u already” and then take it back but not fully commit to it!

You waited for him to respond through text, but instead got hit by your ringtone blaring loudly at such an ungodly hour. At the sight of your contact nickname for him, you eagerly answered his call. You rushed to get the first word in, him doing the same unbeknownst to you.

“Kazu-“

“Babe, I-“

The both of you paused, his eventual laughter easing up your tension as you let out a giggle of your own. You mentally told yourself not to be so nervous— Kazunari and you would have this conversation eventually anyway; besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to see him in person. It was quite the opposite, actually. You just figured that conversations like this needed to happen in call, at least.

“Shoot, should probs shut up so Mukkun doesn’t wake up,” Kazunari commented, his voice volume already lowered, “do you wanna go first?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with resolve. You gathered up your thoughts, formulating the next set of sentences that would leave your mouth, before ultimately deciding on one question. “I just need to know first… how serious were you about meeting up irl?”

“I mean, that wasn’t what I meant when I sent the message? But like, it’s still valid, you know?” he paused, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to continue, “it’s not the first time I’ve thought about meeting you. I think about it a lot, actually.”

It was a bit of a shame the two of you chose to voice call instead of video call. You would’ve loved to see your boyfriend’s face just about now, though you supposed it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a heart attack a quarter to 4 in the morning.

Plus, you weren’t sure you could handle him teasing and throwing compliments at you due to your clearly visible elation, if the upwards stretch of your lips was anything to go by.

“Babe? You still there? Did you pass out, or…” In reality it had only been a few seconds, but still you didn’t want to leave him hanging. Not when the two of you were talking about something that meant taking the next step in your relationship.

“I’m still here, Kazu,” you reassured him. Your voice shook slightly, a sliver of your excitement slipping through the cracks. “I’m the same. Like, no lie I was shocked we brought it up like this, but, um… I’m ready, and if you’re ready, too, I want to meet up with you.”

“Wait, wait, wait— hol’ up! So we’re finally going—“ he laughed for the second time tonight, a fuzzy-wuzzy warmth escaping as its sound equivalent. “Wahh! Of course I’m ready! Can’t wait to finally see what a cutie you are irl♪ Hngg, how am I supposed to sleep now? I’m too hyped up!”

You rolled your eyes, despite understanding exactly how he felt. His infectious cheerfulness amplified the blossoming commotion occurring inside your brain. Despite not making any official plans yet, the prospect of finally meeting up had you frenzied.

Still, one of you had to be at least slightly responsible. While you wouldn’t claim to know his daily schedule, if Veludo Arts was anything like your university, he should be as swamped with workload as you were. Actually, maybe that was the reason he was up so late? That’s how it was for you, anyway excluding the fact that you took a break to stamina clear.

“It’s nearly 4 am… do you wanna continue planning this tomorrow? Err, rather, in a couple hours? After our lectures end, maybe?” You asked, though by the tiny whine Kazunari let out you had a feeling he wasn’t going to agree so quickly.

“Ehh? Why don’t we do it now? I have so many ideas about where we could go, and what we could do… oh! I could introduce you to everyone in Mankai! I’m sure they’d love-“

“I’d love to meet them too,” you cut him off, tone as firm as you could manage at this time, “and I want to hear your ideas, really, but I just know if I let you keep talking the sun will rise before we’ve even decided on a date.”

You chuckled as Kazunari let out a sound of protest, though you had a feeling he knew you weren’t wrong about your assessment. “Zuzu~ Let’s go to sleep now, okay?”

His phone microphone picked up on an audible gasp. “Ehh, how come you rarely call me Zuzu? It’s cute when you say it!”

“Because it sounds like a nickname you’d give to a Pokemon!”

“Uwu, maybe I’ll get Itarun to lend me a copy? Then I’ll catch the cutest Pokemon and name it after you~” you nearly groaned at how fluffy he was being. Seriously, he was distracting you from your agenda of going to sleep!

“Kazu! Stop flirting with me at 4 am or we might not fall asleep!”

Though you couldn’t see him, you were 200% sure he had a wide grin plastered on his face right now. “Me? Using tactics to get you to keep talking with me? Never,” he claimed, professing his false innocence.

“Well, I’m not falling for it! I may not be able to physically tuck you in bed right now, but I can in spirit!”

“Oh!? Then can you give me a goodnight kiss in spirit, too?”

At this point, you were sure that even with just a poke on the cheek you’d be able to feel the heat beginning to envelop your face.

As Kazunari finished laughing, you let the quiet lull of the night seep in the conversation for a few moments before gently breaking it.

“I’d rather give you a kiss irl, though.”

And just like that, you claimed victory over the game he started. With how Kazunari sputtered, a part of you worried that he’d disturb his roommate’s slumber. Still, an even bigger part of you was smug to have him speechless for that much of a duration.

“Babeeeee,” he drawled, “you’re so, so, so unfair… I, like, really want to hold you tight right now…” he murmured, the rustle of his bedsheets discernible through the call. You found yourself nestling onto your bed, too, snuggling up to a soft pillow.

“Soon,” you suddenly yawned, your tiredness seeming to have settled in the comfier you got on the bed. “We’ll have a lot of time to plan tomorrow and the days after, yeah?”

Kazunari let out a hum in agreement, a comfortable silence following suit.

“Kazu?” You muttered quietly, careful not to disturb your peaceful atmosphere.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Good night,” you said, heart aflutter as you heard his response.

“I love you, too, cutie~ sweet dreams♪” he said in an unbelievably soft tone, before ending the call.

After quickly connecting your phone to a charger, you fell back atop your bed and hugged your pillow tight, already anticipating the day you’d be able to hold Kazunari in your arms, and you in his.

…

Morning come, you hastily prepared for class as you always did. You fell into your usual routine— as soon as you were out of the bathroom, you selected an outfit and went over the things you needed to bring to uni today.

You stopped for a minute; taking a quick selfie to post on your story and emphasise your exhaustion to your close friends, before making yourself some breakfast. Within less than 5 minutes, your phone pinged— a recorded message from one of your favourite people this early in the morning.

"Mornin' piko☆ You're looking cute as always today♪”

There was no way you would admit to how many times you replayed it to Kazunari, but even so it was a good way to keep you positive for the rest of the day.

You don’t remember Veludo Way being this rowdy, though it was hard to trust your memory when it’s probably been years since you’ve last visited. Somehow, it was not tough to imagine Kazunari walking around and performing here— the liveliness of the streets difficult to not associate with one of the liveliest people you knew.

While the original plan was to meet up at a cute and trendy cafe you saw all over people’s SNS, the two of you agreed to meet up somewhere less crowded and more meaningful to him— the theatre which he’d performed at multiple times in the past.

As you saw the building from a distance, you wondered when you’d be able to see him on stage, too.

A shout of your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you couldn’t help yourself from running over to meet up faster with the figure that was jumping and waving around in your direction.

Had you any sense left, you probably would have told him that you didn’t want him embarrassing himself in public, but in reality it was quite apparent that you were just as excited to finally see him in person.

“Kazunari!” you can’t help the little shriek you let out as you finally embrace him, only joyous laughter and each others’ names escaping the both of your lips. When you finally got a good look at Kazunari, you nearly wanted to bury yourself into his shirt again.

Everything still seemed so unbelievable. That this was real. That it was finally happening. It almost felt like the dreams you’ve had of this moment many times before.

“How are you so beautiful in person, too?! It’s totes like I’m falling in love with you again♪” Kazunari exclaimed, squeezing you one more time before finally settling on holding hands with you. “Ahh! I super, duper love you!”

Except it wasn’t. There was nothing imaginary about his warmth, and the way his words made you feel, and the beaming sunshine of a smile he aimed at you.

“I love you, too!”

want to order again?

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst

PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)

WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot. 

also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.

SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

WORD COUNT: 18,600

NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!

it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!

(uhhh i just..... i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)

((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals........ cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))

(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))

((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier​ get to work.))))

Part One

The snow falls slow and thick. The children catching it on their tongues and compacting it to shoot at each other, screaming and wailing all the same as it continues to pile. It fell particularly early this time around, normally nothing more than cold bitter to the skin and clouds stirring prediction of the oncoming winter. You were always a heavy sleeper despite the beauty of first frost, long past your days of childish amazement through fogged windows and warm fires but you watched the icy cotton substance pile since dawn this morning. Not even drowsiness will overrun your excitement for the day ahead.

“You light three incense and make sure they burn all the way through before you turn around,” Taehee states.

“Find some stones on your way. Use them to hold the tapestry down as you set up. It looks especially windy today,” Mina adds.

Yoona finishes tucking your hair back rather tightly, “You should stop by Jin’s and pick up some extra bread. You know he’ll give you some of his fresh batch if you asked for it.”

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

You chew on your fingers, a nervous habit. Taehee pulls your slobbered index from your lips with a wrinkled forehead, “You better remember this, dear. You only have to do it once but if you do it right, it’ll be worth much more.”

You recite drearily, “Follow the path, set up the altar, say our prayers, return home.”

“Once the incense is out, Y/N. You mustn’t forget.”

“And you cannot explore the manor. Don’t walk around. Don’t look through the windows—”

“It’s a manor? How big do you suppose?” you ask with newfound interest to your words.

“That doesn’t matter, girl. You don’t wander. You don’t explore. You do what is told of you and nothing more. What matters is that you don’t spot a seraph, and that the seraphs don’t spot you.”

You never understood that rule. If the seraph tribe was so kind as to help your country win a rather one-sided war, then why the invisible boundary? To be in alliance and never interact was an odd sense of unity to you, if any. “Have you ever seen a seraph? Is it true they have two sets of wings?” You’d always been curious to the subject, a fairytale-like existence just waiting below the peak.

“The elders claim they do. A large and small set. Some say it’s necessary for having human proportions. You know, they say it’s bad luck to stare at a seraph’s wings. ” Mina says in awe in correspondence to the way she suffocates you with your robe’s sash.

You swat her away, forcing down a smile, “I don’t believe that, you haven’t even seen one! How do you even know they exist!”

“Hush! You’ll get into some real trouble if an elder catches you saying that. They exist. And they live up the mountain. And you will do the Offering with utmost delicacy and respect. Besides, you’re the only one coming-of-age this year! A girl to do it by herself is surely something the leaders will appraise of you.” You avoid their scrutinous, expectant gazes.

You could say you’ve been cursed at birth. Weak in basic skills in which an adult, regardless of age, is identified by. You lacked time management and a sense of direction, you harbored a bad habit of looking down when you spoke, you couldn’t even wash the dishes without chipping a glass. Your legs worked against you at random times, quite literally tripping you up and deeming you as a clumsy, pitiful thing. As you grew older, the only skills you were able to contribute were to the fields, where things were organic and didn’t require fragility.

“I am not as useless as you think of me,” the words come out unprompted but true and exposed.

The women gawk and babble like hens in a flurry of angered denial or soft apologies but you no longer have time to discuss unimportant matters.

In the midst, rough, giant hands encase your face. You don’t realize you’re looking to the floor until Taehyung props your chin upwards, met with smiling eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. His name rolls off your tongue in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start moping before you even start. It really isn’t a big deal. You hike all the way up to the riverbank more than the others and that’s a long way. This is no different. And think, when you come home everyone will come to realize how much they’ve missed you! Me included.”

“It’s not that I’m…” You start haphazardly. Well, it’s not that you’re reluctant to do the Offering. To adventure otherwise prohibited land and by yourself, to prove that you can handle life just fine and don’t need to be seared by the judgement of deploring eyes. Some time to enjoy solitary peace. It wasn’t even a whole day, dammit, but you’ll take what you can get. You choose to lie, “I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ll make sure to pace myself. Besides, I’d run myself short if I finished in half-a-day like you.”

Tae puffs, a little proud of himself, “What can I say… I’d like for the little ones to look up to me.” You roll your eyes, scanning your bed for your scarf. Taehyung eyes the cloth as you wrap it around, a rare moment of quiet. He stares, entranced, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so focused. As you think about inquiring his statue-like manner, you notice that more of the silence is due to the disappearance of the squawking hens. Those sly, evil matchmakers.

You suddenly pull him along and towards the exit, “You can’t be in here. You’ll get us in trouble.”

He blinks dumbly and slumps against your ministrations. “Your aunts seemed to be fine with it. And it’s not like I haven’t snuck in your window a few… several times.”

Your expressed sheepishness is his favorite source of entertainment, “Goodness, as kids! You make it sound so rebellious.” He winks as if you share a grand secret, all to his imagination of course.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was the village’s be-all and end-all. Born to work and carry everyone else on his back. He stands tall with his shoulders wide and prominent, chestnut waves that reached his cheekbones now. Shirt tight around his torso in ways that could excite anyone that risked a glimpse. You can’t help but find it amazing how much of a crybaby he was when you were young and how sturdy and dependable he is now. He was humorously your polar opposite.

You try to shoo him once more, “Anyways. I’m getting ready and you can’t see me. Go wait with everyone else!” His pout is jarring paired with his hard, strong build. Like a teddy bear with abs and palm blisters from years of physical labor.

His body moves on his own at some point, reluctantly reaching for your door handle, “No parting kiss upon my cheek, fair lady?”

It’s obvious he’s being more daring these days. With frequent visits and gifts on your doorstep, and now requested kisses. The whole town knew you were likely to marry him, a relief for most. But on your hand, you’ve just known him for so long. Practically since you were born. You’ve already shared kisses, you’ve already had those butterflies in your stomach; but the kisses were stolen in secret and the butterflies were stagnant. And although it was never a consistent nor official courting, you felt as though Taehyung was already a route taken. You know better to never admit that into the air, though. Not when everyone expected your cooperation with marriage at the least. To care for someone so special, and to bear his children plump and healthy.

What a static life to live, you try not to think. You instead try to blame such thinking on your inferiority complex, to at least ease some of that horrible guilt in your stomach. You should be grateful for your life. Talentless yet adored. A village princess that was easy on the eyes and sought after by those looking for that beauty and its accompanied dowry.

A proposal was near, that much you could tell with his efforts. In his perspective, the sooner the better lest he want someone else to steal you from him. Contradictory to your own reasoning, the only relief you find is that it is him, your dearest friend. Perhaps the only one to disregard your shortcomings and want to fill your empty spaces as much as he can. He cared about you and that could be enough. So you try to convince yourself of that.  

You kiss his cheek softly and without hesitation. Not so much as a blush. He suspects nothing less than mutual adoration and takes his leave like you request, leaving you alone in silence for a relieving twenty seconds. Then the hens come back inside and squabble about who will be able to sew together your future gown.

 Part Two

It starts under the old pine tree on the far side of the village. A crowd gathers as you wait under the swaying branches, mutters and looks of excitement apparent. A cleric waits beside you with three elder women who prepare your things: a woven satchel loaded with the items that you are to lay out, things like dried flowers, fruits, fine wines, tapestries, collected crystals, baked goods and the incense. A replica display of what little the humans had presented at the foot of the seraphs. Untouchable beings with class and power much above your own. Kindness as well, so it seems; to be provided with just this and offer unparalleled assistance to a hopeless cause in the old wars. You wondered if they still watched from afar, curious to the well-being of their mortal neighbors.

"Dear, keep your mind with us. You'll be off shortly," one of the grandmas whisper, placing a carved selenite athame into a leather holster and slipping it into the confines of your robe, "For protection." You smile and thank her kindly, tuning back into the ceremony and waiting for the second elder. They continue to adorn you in charms and traveling goodies, eventually piling on unnecessary weight that will, for sure, slow you down in the process. The trek was basically a day’s trip. If you moved efficiently, you should be home no later than when the sun begins to set, in time for supper even. As much as you’d like to stay out longer, you dare not risk a night in the mountains.

“—this year’s representative will be just as prosperous. May she bring good fortune and health onto our town just as the many before her has done so,” the old cleric roars into the audience, just about finishing his speech as you start to listen. You hope he didn’t say anything too significant. Can’t possibly hang on to every dry word when you were so close to tasting temporary freedom.

You make your way into the parted sea of people, some who grip your hand as you walk by to invoke strength as you move along. A few grumble good luck’s and come back safe’s. Then an angry baker charging through helpless bodies.

“Take this, you stupid girl. You were supposed to stop by the bakery this morning,” Seokjin whines, thrusting what seems to be a warm pastry wrapped with cheesecloth into your hands.

“Thank—Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bug…”

Jungkook pops in from nowhere, hitting your shoulder a little too playfully, “Chin up, love. Don’t be back too soon.” You nod shyly as he distances behind. Jungkook always had a strong nose for your facades but he also always kept your secrets. Clutching your things tightly, you watch your boots as they pick up speed through the mess of attention.

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

You leave northbound until you no longer hear their cheers. Until the snow no longer has indented prints and you think you’re alone and off to the races. A sudden tension snaps when you release your sore cheeks from an artificial smile, not even aware you were sporting one in the first place. There was always a heavy pressure when you presented yourself to the public, and while you were no damn princess, everyone ensured that you at least feel the looming responsibility of one. Curse your family’s political ties and all that, otherwise you wouldn’t give a damn if you seemed like an old witch spotted once in a blue moon.

When you reach the border gate is when you see Taehyung for the last time today. It comes as a surprise to see him waiting for you like a loyal dog, dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, red cheeks a striking contrast against the bright setting. If you were more grateful, you’d think he looks particularly good today. If anything, it strikes you more that you failed to see his face at the send-off.

“Hey. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone else… and today of all days but if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will,” he jumbles. In his hands hold a scarlet scarf, the same one you had seen as a child when his mom would occasionally take care of you, let you help bake, and playfully dress you in her accessories. All but that scarf, folded neatly and tucked into a corner or her closet.

“Oh! Don’t touch that, love,” she said, “That’s something my mother-in-law made for me.”

You had pouted then, a spoiled brat of sorts. But Taehyung’s mother’s eyes were always warm and she spoke softer than cashmere, “I have to give that to my son when he decides to marry. Will you make sure he finds the right one, for me? You are his best friend, aren’t you?”

You remember the challenge you felt, yelling without hesitation, “Taetae will marry me! When we grow up I’ll be his bride and you won’t have to worry!”

She giggled in contentment, eyes squinted in a wide smile and petting you lovingly, “Ah, of course. I know you’ll be a wonderful wife, Y/N. Taehyung will be in great hands.”

“I had been there, you know,” Taehyung chuckles, “When you claimed you’d be my wife when we got older. I was hiding in the hallway and initially, I thought, ‘I’ll never marry my best friend!’. But, now… I just can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else.”

You grin at him sadly. Of course he had been holding onto this his entire childhood.

“Taehyung…”

“We’re still young, I know that. I just want to give you this for your trip to make me feel more at ease and so you can think about it. You can take all the time that you need. I know Mother wouldn’t mind, especially for you.” You nod. It’s all you can do. Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses your hair. When he pulls away, he wraps your neck into the warmth of the scarf you’d always wished to wear. But it’s almost suffocating now, locking in your fate before you even step out of the village boundaries.

“For now, just come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you no matter what you decide.”

You can fathom the communal disappointment of rejecting your strongest suitor. More importantly, you would be shameful to turn down his proposal. Once it was out there, there was no “decision”.

You can imagine your aunts now, squealing in delight and sewing from their best cloths.

 Part Three

Though you never had the chance to explore much, this really was nothing you've ever seen before. An ominous stairway carved into rock weaved in and out of your trail which made it fairly easy to follow along. You can't imagine the labor that went into sculpting this far ahead and all the way up the side of the mountain; it was truly something mind-boggling. As the air begins to thin, the amount of snow starts to grow thicker. If you had waited any longer into the winter you wouldn’t even be able to see the path, you’re sure.

You only need to stop twice to catch your breath and sit down. Snacking on the bread Jin gifted you only a few hours ago. It’s satisfying to look back at the area you’ve covered, how small things look from your height and the beauty of a fresh snow blanket. The scenery to the riverbank was nowhere as near breathtaking to that of the mountain. A dreamscape of evergreen trees and varying shrubbery, crossing over a short wooden bridge floating over a near-frozen stream, even occasional wildlife prancing into view. The summit itself wasn’t terribly high. It was manageable to hike for the most part, more so that your goal wasn’t to reach the peak. 

You could travel all the time, you think. Hike or take a horse somewhere farther than here but that’s not very practical. There was nowhere really to go and you didn’t have the luxury to just up and leave your household, and now Taehyung. The knots in your brain seem to loosen, blame the inclination and dry air infiltrating your head. Knowing your life was to be faced someday and all your immature ambitions to leave the village now seeming childlike and unattainable. The pessimism had yet to blow out your weak flame of philosophical rebellion but it was surely keeping you in check.

Judging by the sun's position, it's midday. Meaning it shouldn't be long before you catch sight of the "manor" and thus will be halfway finished with your journey.

You nearly walk off the cliffside before you notice the route's abrupt change and how it slithers deeper into the eye of the mountain. The farther you walk, the closer the earthy walls begin to shut in on you in a trench-like structure. It's even more unbelievable coming upon a short archway, perhaps man-made and mined through a boulder that could have fallen from atop one of the peaks. Being here, you realize, makes you feel small. Slithering through the terrain like a fairy in the tales your mother had told you at night. Of beasts and cryptids that could appear in the tangles of forest and vanish all in the same. There was a sort of dreamlike trance you found yourself in as you walked under the rock as if it were a portal.

And, unexpectedly, it's there. Atop a few more dreadful flights of stairs, hidden between an odd bundle of trees and beneath a fresh veil of snow, you can barely make out the silhouette of a house. It's still a bit far and eerily surrounded by fog but it's there and it almost looks as if it's... floating. Like a gateway to a secret nook of heaven.

It's one of those odd, puzzle-like mirages when you climb more steps to think you're only getting farther from the house. The swaying of branches keeps you from determining just how big it is and what it could possibly conceal. Even the atmosphere, chill and intimidating, makes your heart skip in perplexed anticipation. Having been at this for hours, if the staircase hadn't just ceased you would have kept walking straight into the dark wooden door.

But your aching legs find relief in the stretching flat surface of a porch and your exhilaration to reaching such a majestic destination that you could squeal. Of course, you don't, and instead get started at the task at hand.

You kneel onto the cool floor and begin to unload your things, neatly and without the need to rush. You lay stones on each corner of the tapestry to hold it down, you lay out the contents in somewhat of an aesthetically manner, you strike a match to light the incense and you mumble your thanks on behalf of the village, all as you were told. The snicker under your breath comes unwarranted as you finalize the display, even Taehyung couldn't have done this well.

It feels a little anticlimactic; a little short-lived. To have come up this whole way and spend a maximum of five minutes in somewhere you could spend days exploring. Idling, you can practically hear the warning clucks of your aunts engraved into your brain.

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

"Even think of doing anything funny and I'll have Seokjin roast you alive."

Maybe it's why it's even more satisfying to you when you ignore them altogether, standing from your position and just dying to see the rest of the manor's exterior. One peek, one peek and I'll never stray from instruction ever again, you think. Just my last burst of freedom and then I promise to be a good girl with no more personality than a wet dish rag.

So you tiptoe to the massive door and lean your ear against it as if you could hear anything with its size and the strong winds. You questioned if anyone even lived here, void of any decorations or signs of recent activity. Maybe the deer would get to the food you laid out before someone even stepped foot on the property prior next Offering.

When there are no obvious indications of life do you weasel your way around the corner, an extension of the porch wrapping around the side of the house to much of your assumption and revealing an expanse of space. The cabin was two stories at the least, maybe even three if not had been for the first story windows and how incredibly tall they were. You could only imagine the comfort of being inside such a space, being able to wake and watch the snow behind a glass wall of incredible proportions. While you ogle the window do you, of course, fail to realize that it's transparent and startle a bit when something begins to move.

The reflection makes it a bit difficult to pinpoint, a large dark figure shifting ever so slightly in its confines. Like a complete buffoon, you near the wall even closer with squinted eyes just making out the shapes of an entity.

Whatever it is, it's incredibly large. A heart in shape and composed of monochromatic blacks, reaching the floor and surely much taller than you. It was killing you that you couldn't figure out what the hell it was, well-near leaning against the glass as you peer into the private space.

You freeze in place as the elongated heart is really in the shape of wings, accompanied by a body as they’re dragged behind it like a veil. Long and dark and ruffling occasionally as their owner rotates a bit...

But you don't get to see his face. The man in which you firmly believed could be nothing but a myth; as propaganda by the village elders to keep your actions in check. Rather, the seraphs were more authentic than you could have ever imagined, and as magical and inspiring as it may be, so are the Offering rules that are now proved and justified, and that could only mean that this was very, very unfortunate timing to be snooping around property that was not yours.

Your feet scramble backwards in attempt to flee out of sight, instead graciously slipping against the frozen wood and causing you to land quite harshly on your side. Your hip burns at the impact but more horrifyingly important, the crash rattles the side of the floating stoop and his eyes burn into your pathetic body. The moment is wedged between fractions of a second, eye contact barely existent but it's enough to see the daggers in the seraph's irises. It's enough of a warning for you to get back onto your feet and sprint as carefully as possible away from such a gaze that could light this winter wonderland into disastrous flames.

All that comes across your mind as you rush down the steps is how wrong you were. How you unjustly became more and more skeptical of the stories and legends of the creatures that existed in the crevices of the mountains. How numb you became to the warnings as your age drew near for your rite of passage. How much of a taboo you would become if you were to ever tell a living soul that you witnessed a seraph and its marvelous wings. Not that you would.

Your ability to run brings you to the realization that you forgot your things but it was beyond you now. For once in your life, you cherish the idea of being home and hiding under the covers in the tranquil warmth of a familiar fireplace. To dream away the moment that dark angel caught a sly fox trespassing into his territory and, rightfully so, looking as if he craved to skin it alive.

You yelp at the sudden caw of ravens as they fly overhead. Their screeches send shivers to your bones, a sudden chill slowing you down. Rustling in the nearby trees deem you completely terrified, a gut feeling deducting the possibility of winds blowing that strong in the middle of dense shrubbery. Your heart drops once more; your athame was left in the abandoned bag.

The last time you had seen a wolf was when you were barely a toddler, sleepily held in the arms of a younger (and much kinder) Mina. It lurked in the woods just past the fields, a little young and possibly separated from its pack. But wolves were smart and they knew better than to make trouble in a town of loud humans. You remember the way it pulled its ears back and slinked back into the sanctity of its wild home and never to be seen again.

These wolves were smart too, howling their announcement upon finding a small, weak girl all alone and oozing dread. Two pairs of eyes track you as their corresponding bodies stalk out of the bushes, large and sleek and beautiful. Both grey and both incredibly hungry, they begin to pace around you maybe 100 feet away. You startle back and up a stair, most favored option to return to the cabin and retrieve your bag, maybe stay near for a bit until the creatures leave but then another, black and larger than the other two, barks harshly and stands its ground on your sacred steps. You are royally trapped.

“Stay… Stay back,” you warn dumbly, looking to the only open direction in the woods. You wouldn’t be as fast as on the path as long as you had to maneuver through the snow but you could possibly break off a hefty branch. Enough to ward them off to get back to the cabin and pray that the seraph doesn’t pose more of a problem than flesh-eating hounds.

So you sprint, robes clenched in your fists and boots sinking into the pillows of ice, disappearing into the trees and disregarding the snarls that start up behind you. You look desperately for something, anything to help you. Snow begins to find its way into your shoes each time you trip over yourself, wetting the soles of your feet. Hands scraping against bark with each twist and turn and your fingers burn. You only look back occasionally, seeing no more than one pair of eyes at a time at a short distance. This must have been a fun game to them, howling their contents into brisk air.

The black dog truly appears from nowhere, a flash of teeth from your left peripheral before it tackles you to the ground the same moment you find a dead branch and thrust it into its snapping jaw. It all happens too fast. You yipe as you roll through the fall, wolf teeth still digging through your only weapon and snapping the poor thing to two. In pure desperation, you dig the sharper broken half into whatever it’s willing to hit. Fortunately enough, the wolf whimpers and tumbles off you. Then you’re off once again, adrenaline ringing in your ears as you don’t even care to recall which way is which, as long as it’s away from, what can you assume was, the Big Bad Alpha.

More howls from them, more cries from you.

You’re able to return to the path without another spotting. It turns out you were going the wrong way when you’re also met with the narrow exit and that cursed archway. A gateway to inevitable death.  

Halfway through the gap in manic rush and you’re face to face with a beast so pale that it camouflaged with the flurry encasing you both. Eyes clear as water and almost… comforting. Even with the low rumble in its throat and one paw in front of the other in a slow, tantalizing chase. The others growl behind you, an enraged black-furred monster bleeding from its right eye socket turned quite smug now knowing that you were completely, utterly trapped.

It’s when the white wolf soundlessly drags a deep wound into your thigh while the three merely watch is when you ascertain that it is, undoubtedly, the pack leader. You fall back as the beautiful thing toys with you, snatching the front of your thick robe and shredding it with a sickening rip. You scream for the first time this entire chase, grabbing at Taehyung’s scarf in fear that it got caught along with it, caring for it more than your own life at this point.

The scream must have been piercing enough to discombobulate your attacker, it’s large ears flitting around as it jumps away from you. It’s even more of a shock when they all flee out of the divide, leaving you bleeding and too traumatized to move an inch. Whatever alarmed them devastates you even more.

The ravens caw loud and the ground vibrates. Watching the birds circle in the sky, you notice the way pebbles begin to crumble from each peak, how snow begins to over pile on such weak grounds and the way it begins to slide inward.

It’s an odd sound; snow sliding against other layers of snow and having so much weight that it pulls a few small trees with it. And this trench-like area only had so much space and you were positive the amount of white that begins to hurl towards you would fill it like a water cup; bury you with absolutely no chance of being able to dig your way out. Despite your fear, you cower at its charge and wait for the weight to hit.

 And then your head lolls back against something wonderfully warm and dry. You were completely soaked but too exhausted to shiver. In your last moments of consciousness, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you see the ground as the sky and the sky as the ground and feathers as feathers. You think of home. Think of warm summers where you would dip your feet in the riverbed. Think of bonfires with Jungkook and Jin and Hoseok and even Taehyung. But everything is still snow and you think you’re beginning to loathe each damned flake. The only comfort you find is the homeliness of the carmine red material that blows softly against your face. With that and the fleeting thought that you might be righteously transported to heaven do you finally pass out.

 Part Four

Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of humans. Unlike his brothers and sisters that sympathized with such weak creatures enough to put their own lives at risk, it was just something he would never come around to understand. Species were organized and separated for reasons and intermingling was a curiosity that died ages ago for him.

Which is all a hypocritical contradiction when he sees you sleep soundly on his common room couch, changed into dry clothes and buried beneath a heap of duvets. Whatever had possessed him to go after you was pure impulse after the stunt you pulled on him. Prowling around on private property and, more importantly, breaking the village’s strict ritual rules. Catching him going about on what would be another unmomentous day in his schedule, creating enough of a ruckus to capture his attention, and then fleeing as a feeble mouse.

It’d be a lie if he had said he didn’t watch you scramble away down the steps from the comfort of his front door and a fresh coffee in hand, watching you stumble over nothing on your way. It was more when you had left your things like a pure imbecile, food and tools and all, and left without even waiting for the incense to finish burning. It was then that he came to the conclusion that you were incredibly clumsy and that served as entertainment to him.

The howls were his test of will. Knowing the dogs were way farther up the mountain than they normally were and supposing they had followed your poor, unfortunate soul during your trek, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And you were practically handed to them on a silver platter, considering you’d left your only knife on the cold wood of his porch.

Maybe he had come down, grumpily disturbed from his peaceful Saturday, more to save himself from cleaning the remnants of someone eaten in his vicinity more than the compassion to save you. But that was a tad bit too cruel, even for him. He thinks it was more of that uniquely curious glint in your eyes as you practically skipped into his sight. Daring enough to ignore those rather ridiculous warnings and try your luck. Delicate as a deer in hunter’s perspective. As often as he’d go out to restock supplies in neighboring towns would he never come across a visitor in his own domain. Call him quaint, but it was a mediocre surprise.

He prods the fire, making it crackle and reflame with more vigor. It had barely been a few hours since he’s saved you by the skin of his teeth, almost caught in the landslide himself.

He checks the wound on your leg once more, cleaning it again before securing it in bandages. If only he had gotten there faster, Yoongi tsks, but you’d strayed from the path and he could only follow the prints so quickly before they were covered by the flurry. By the time he found you again, you were knelt in front of the pack and submitting to your death. Had he not been on a hill, had he not been able to utilize his useless wings to glide down before the snow had claimed you first…

You groan softly, unable to roll around without a searing poker sinking into your thigh with each attempt. Contrast to the icicle state the rest of your body sported. You felt like hell. Like hell in hell guarded by those hounds. Hell in your thigh and hell in your head and hell in—

“Don’t move too fast. You have a fever and I just replaced your bandages,” a disembodied voice orders. Your eyes snap open to tall, wooden ceiling. Sitting up is your first horrible mistake, dropping back down immediately with a pained wheeze.

“I just said not to move too fast. If you can sit up normally, you should drink some water. I have some here,” it speaks again. You try again cautiously, blurry spots ruining your vision the farther up you scoot. A silhouette is kneeling beside you, maybe a cup in his hand but you’re too jumbled to confirm.

Yoongi tries his best to fold in on himself, lowering the obvious limbs stuck to his back and appear as human as possible. You wouldn’t be able to run again in your state but he tries his best to be courteous to your skittishness anyway.

“Where… Where am I?” You dazingly question. You don’t really… recall too much. Last memory somewhat muddled between your send-off and contact with those treacherous wolves, very few in between and serving no importance if you couldn’t remember how it ended.

“You’re safe in my house. In the mountains still. You passed out pretty good out there, been out for a bit. Now drink.”

It’s easy to do as your told with you’re running off little brainpower, downing the water hastily.

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

At some point, you can see again. The blankets that cover you and the large room you inhabit. Of course, the seraph from earlier that awaits by your seat. His seat. But you feel no urgency to scurry into safety. You were discombobulated, sure, but you knew enough that this man was kind enough to bring you into his home and care for you. So you fold back the material slowly and watch his face contort into confusion as you try to stand.

“I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for treating me.”

“Woah now. You’re in no condition to be standing. Besides, the path is blocked. Snow was too heavy and caused a slide. I doubt it’ll clear until the spring,” he informs, looking out the window as if to drag your own attention to it. The snow stopped but it’s fallen a few feet, at least. The path, you remember, chased by wolves and led into an ice trap. The few split moments in which the man must have scooped you up before your demise, remnants of being carried back towards his estate.

His place, in which is even more amazing inside than it was outside, a luxurious wooden mansion of sorts, tall and spacious and filled with those incredible windows that displayed better than you could have ever dreamed. The man himself that sits beside you draws full attention. Despite his position, he was large and still intimidating as the moment you crossed sights for the first time. Hair matching his wings in dark palette, soft and delicate looking. His face anything but, sharp eyes and thick brows, lips that curved into a simper. Above all, he looked more human. Even as radiant and prepossessing as he was, if the cape of wings didn’t follow him where he went he would look just as human as the rest of the population.

“Are you a seraph?” You ask dumbly. Dumb, because he laughs and because he obviously is.

“Are you a human, pretty thing?” He retorts. There’s no condescending lilt to his words but it makes him seem otherworldly to you. With such a provoking question and your lightheadedness, he seemed a blessing to be inhabiting such an earth.

You melt into the cushions once more, leg throbbing and eyes heavy. You watch his wings as they bob with his breath, “They say it’s bad luck to lay eyes on the wings of an angel…”

“Why would that be?,” he scrunches his nose, maybe a little appalled by the idea, “Such a misleading myth. Besides, I’m no angel.”

You don’t know why he stands to leave the room after that, unnoticing how you fall back into sedation a minute later.

 Part Five

You wake with clarity. Check your thigh to find it almost completely healed over except a now lingering scar. All’s left is a dull soreness but god it felt so much better. Enough to stand and stretch in the empty room. Enough to coherently realize that you only wear your underwear while the rest of your garments hang torn and sadly on the fireplace screen. It’s not as unbecoming if it had to be done for the sake of your health and wellbeing, right?

Getting dressed is easy when you don’t even bother with your robe, the gash decreeing it useless and instead tying Taehyung’s scarf around your shoulders as a shawl over your tank. You’re lucky it didn’t get torn.

There’s a fleeting moment where you really think you miss Tae, feeling a little regretful to being so afraid of his proposal in light of the recent accident. You’re sure he must be worried sick; must think you’ve perished under the debris and snow if he’s come to look for you. As his best friend, you solemnly wish he was here to hug you close and promise that it would all be okay. To fend off your shame and welcome you back into the village with teary eyes and a warm smile.

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

You whip around to discover fox eyes in the door frame, poorly lit now that it’s nighttime. The moonlight pairs well with how it sits on his milky skin, almost something out of a painting.

“It’s Y/N. Not ‘human’.” You answer a little sharper than you mean. He notices too, quick to wave it off since he really had popped up out of nowhere. He tries your name once on his own tongue, a satisfying thing to say.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, in case you don’t want to call me seraph all the time.”

You suddenly grab your thigh, rubbing it over your pants in questionable disbelief, “How long have I been asleep? My leg is almost fully healed…”

He rubs at his eye, a little nonchalant about the scene at hand, “Only overnight and throughout the day today. It’s probably quarter to nine about now. I had medicine to help your cuts heal over nicely. Call it, uh, advanced seraph technology.”

The gashes hadn’t been incredibly deep to begin with, thankfully not going any further than the first layer of skin and just really causing some bleeding, but it was still amazing. The feeling is short lived. Even if only a day, you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“Thank you, um, Mr. Min. For saving my life and everything after that. I’d like to repay you sometime. But for now I’m afraid I should be heading back, I’ve stayed for too long. I’m sure I can find some way over the path.”

It dawns on you that Yoongi is a little facetious, especially when he purrs a, “Well you can do whatever your little heart desires, but I’m here to remind you that there is no path. Here, look out the window.”

You do, tiny bit distracted when he stands by you to point out the ridges of the mountains that surround you. “See those? How they curve in towards the top and how it sort of resembles a bowl? This area was made only for seraphs to get in and out of generations ago; flight only. Trying to climb it would be suicide on both sides. The path that goes through was strictly for human use, and if that’s blocked, there’s no way out, little one.” You weren’t the shortest in your village but Yoongi truly was massive, both lanky and filled-out somehow. Like there’s underlying strength to his lean build. You’re sure if you were to stand directly in front of him, the top of your head would barely surpass his sharp shoulders.

You disregard his name for you, a bit annoyed at this point, “Could you not fly me over the pass?”

Yoongi repeats in disbelief of such a daring request, “Fly… You over the pass… No. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. If you truly want to figure it out, you should do so soon. It's storm season."

Gritting your teeth, you express your discontent for once. What did he save you for, then? For points? You didn't know members of the almighty seraph clan were so keen to half-completed deeds. "And why not? Wouldn't you rather I be on my way? What am I supposed to do if I can't leave?"

"You forget yourself, Y/N. Did I not save your life? Chase after you and save you from being crushed? Buried alive?" He takes a second to straighten himself out, aware of how you look to your feet in frustration.

"Hey," he starts again, "I know you'd like to go home. I only tell you the truth of your situation in its entirety. If I could fly you over the pass I would but unfortunately, I'm out of commission."

You feel heat in your face, embarrassed of the way you address a complete stranger even after all the things he's done for you. But this was frankly a sticky situation to find yourself in, trapped and unable to get Yoongi to help you any further. Though you do wonder what he means by his last statement...

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't mean to make demands. I'm just scared and in a place I'm not used to and I'm not quite sure what I'm to do from here. Is there no one else who can help me over?"

Yoongi averts his gaze before he shakes his head, "I'm the last one in this country."

That's even more odd to hear but you don't prod for information that isn't yours to learn.

In silence, you contemplate the work that even went into carrying another human body by use of wings that were structurally built for the owner's own weight and possibly nothing else. Now was not the time to be ignorant.

“What am I supposed to do?” You mumble weakly. Yoongi watches your gears turn warily, stress surely beating down on you.

He rubs his neck, ruffles his left wing, “Listen. I promise I’ll help you back come spring. You won’t be able to make a dent in the landslide as long as it continues to build with snow every night.” He tends to forget that humans are pack animals, often lost without one another and feeble in the hands of species not of their own.

Your doe eyes, beginning to well with tears, convince him over tenfold, “I’ll help you in any way possible to pay you back for all the things you’ve done. I know I’ve caused nothing but trouble but if you have the room, is it possible I stay here?”

And Yoongi had enough vacant rooms to house a whole herd of deer now that he’s been alone for these sum of years. It really was no trouble… and he could make use of you as long as you stayed. His brow shoots up, “You can stay.”

Your grin is enough to light the whole room encased in night’s darkness, looking back down to the ground now knowing you had some hope to hold onto in such an eventful day. A whisper of a thank you Mr. Min is thrown in and Yoongi can feel his fists tighten.

He clears his throat, standing a little taller than he already is and acting strict, “But there are some rules. And you can just call me by my first name.”

 Part Six

 It's always a little weird trying to adjust to new scenery. Though your past experiences have been anticlimactically different than this; not exactly the first time visiting a friend's house or dropping off delivered goods from Seokjin's shop and awkwardly facing an elder who forces you to stay for tea.

Yoongi had shown you around the areas you needed to know. Offered you the closest room to the main part of the house with a king bed, fresh sheets and your own majestic window to stare out of. The living room which you had rested in before and the kitchen, grand and spacious just like everything else. He showed you a greenhouse out back that was utterly ginormous. Stone walkways and a hot compost keeping it from freezing, rows of plants you both have and haven't witnessed before. And again, he showed you what you needed to know.

That goes onto the chores he assigned you as long as you stay, to help him clean come Sundays and manage the plants throughout the week which served as no problem. At least with horticulture you proved some use, struggling throughout the weekend to do anything else but cause Yoongi a bit of a headache.

Tuesday rolls around and Yoongi stops by your room with stationary. Tells you he has a messenger bird to deliver any letters you desire to send home and you hop on the opportunity quicker than the landslide had tried to eat you up.

Of course, it was an exceptionally long letter. Longer than the papers Yoongi had given to you and he had to fetch more when you looked absolutely devastated sitting at your desk. You began with the simple phrase, "I'm okay." Filling it with a volley of explanations and apologies, how you were nearly killed, how the seraph had scooped you up to safety and how you inhabit his home now until further notice. You write how you talk, sure the recipients are sure to read in hushed mumbles and run-on sentences. You explain that there's no use to try to get home now while the clouds continue to precipitate and gate your only exit from the bowl-like wonderland. You end with how you miss them already, a request to send back an update or two every once in awhile, and a final wish to have a happy winter without you (though you're sure they won't appreciate that joke).

You think, if they really receive the letter, how terribly furious they'll be with you. Taehyung and Jungkook will probably come hiking up the mountain to try to put a dent in the debris and fail miserably. Your aunts and how they must feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for thinking you so small and helpless. Mina and her jealous wonder that you've done it now, how you've seen a seraph before her and you're positive she'll have a flurry of questions when you return. When you return.

You come out onto the balcony to pay your respects to your so-called "messenger", pretty white thing large and wide-eyed. Humorous is the familiar to another winged being, bird of a feather, you chuckle to yourself. Yoongi pays no attention when he murmurs directions to the bird and sends it off, straight in the direction you were hoping.

Thursday and you think you finally have your routine down. No longer unsure in the hallways and able to sit when your work is done without feeling completely out of place. It's only when you're around the other member of the cabin do you feel a little subdued, reminding you that you burden him and quickly finding something to do out of that guilt.

❋

Today you feel a bit sluggish. You drag yourself down the corridor, opting for the bath until you see a dark head in an open room. Yoongi sits in his study, presumably reading with his back facing you. You can't say you've seen this room before, ceilings just as tall and walls just lined with books, journals, art pieces and things of the like.

"You can come in," he snickers suddenly, maybe feeling the heat from your eyes boring into the back of his head and warming the space entirely.

"This is amazing... Your collection, I mean." You force yourself down in a chair, hands trapped underneath your thighs in case they feel like touching anything.

"Thank you. It took quite a bit of time to build it up. Not by myself, of course."

It makes you ponder. If he's mentioned his state of loneliness twice, then your questions were expected.

"There were more, right? Family of yours? Why are you the only one left?"

"One question at a time, yeah?" He swivels around and takes off a pair of reading glasses that you would have liked to inspect on his face a bit more, "I can't leave because I can't fly, remember? They left because they held no other duty tied to this land. That's all."

You quiet. He returns to reading whatever it is on his flat desk. "Why can't you fly?"

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

"A story of a girl with a terrible habit of too many inquiries."

"You know, I loved to read when I was a kid. All kinds of things. Novels, studies, maps even. Now I never have the time for such pleasantries." A wistful sigh leaves your lips.

Yoongi eyes you beneath his lashes, watches as you survey the room with giddiness and hands taut underneath your bum. "Why's that?"

You frown, "Too many things to do. Jobs and cleaning and family and stress. If I have time to read, I have time to be doing something more important."

His lips curl, amused at this little play-thing in his room. Like a child scolded all her life, whining and pouting in front of a stranger. Yoongi stands tall and shrugs his sweater tighter around him, "Well then, you'd better hop to it."

"Hm?" You squeak, chewing on your lip when you meet his eyes. So innocent.

"You only have the winter to read these. I'd get started soon. After work is done and you want to poke around in here, feel free to do so. Take them to your room if you'd like, just please return them."

And he swears he sees damn stars in your eyes before he turns and leaves the room. He hears your immediate footing once he's halfway to his room, little yelps of excitement enough as his thanks. Yoongi can't help but smirk, eventually floating away and speaking way out of earshot for you to hear.

"Nothing is more important than the things you want."

 Part Seven

 After a month, you find it a little boring. After receiving a teary letter of how your family misses you, not one ounce of scold or chastisement more than it was just wholesome relief to see familiar handwriting, their only wish was for you to stay obedient and not write so often as to waste poor Yoongi's paper. It was typical, somewhat stress-relieving. And that was that.

It was often you spent your quiet interest reading of botany and romance (in what little you found of it) preferably in his study on days he's holed up in his room. At this point, he still remains somewhat of a mysterious entity, conversing when he must and accidentally showing his face once or twice like a ghost. The only times you really see him are for Sundays with idle chit chat.

One particular evening you find an old, ratty recipe book. Handwritten and falling at the seams and that's how you know that there are some golden tips in there for you to test out.

You choose pumpkin bread. Something to warm the palette while ice continues to build outside. And working in Yoongi's kitchen by yourself was oddly fulfilling, no one to correct you or send you off to another job if you fail to do the first. It's probably why your bread turns out perfect, slicing the loaf and placing a piece on a small plate for a friend.

Rather, someone you'd like to establish as a friend.

You haven't seen him once today; not odd but a little lonely. Pacing on the carpets and looking for an open door with any sign of a sly angelic being. Even after a month, it's the first time you've freely made something with intents of sharing with him. Was that rude of you?

Coming upon a jarred entrance, you speak softly, "Yoongi? Are you in there?"

No reply.

You clear your throat and toe the door open just enough to stand in its frame, "Yoongi? I made some pumpkin bread for us—"

Thank your soft voice does it not wake him, still a snoring log in a bed even larger than yours. His limbs sprawled widely, laying on his stomach and breath soft and slow. Sleeping in the middle of the day while his guest slaves over the stove must be quite nice, huffing subtly and placing his plate on his night desk. Sure to be spoiled even more when he wakes to a treat.

As you turn, your eyes can't help but dawdle over the expanse of his wings. One covering a naked back and one hanging off the side of the bed, a marbling effect of muddled sepias and ink blacks, occasional golden ochre pigments seeping through the deepest layers of feathers. It was utterly breathtaking. This has to be one of the first opportunities you've had to inspect them so, equating staring at his monstrously large wings the same as blatantly staring at his junk.

You draw close like a moth to a damn flame, checking to assure he's still sound asleep. Reaching delicate fingers, you dare to lay a palm on the mass. It's surprisingly strong, an odd firmness as you slide your hand down silky plains and watch as the feathers ripple by your touch.

Then, as if you weren't dumb enough to foretell the upcoming events, he wakes.

A whirl of darkness encases you, whips you around so fast that you see stars in the middle of day, completely flipped and pinned to the bed beneath you. The intense heaviness makes you recoil, unable to budge your wrists and legs with Yoongi's strength.

And his face of unadulterated fury is one that would be ingrained into your memories forever. Pupils dilated and nose scrunched like prey warding off predator. Yoongi was surprised to say the least, a scared frenzy of confusion as he growls down at you.

"What were you doing, human?"

Your weeping gains no mercy, "Ow, you're, you're hurting me!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" He spits.

Incoherence is not what he asks for but that's all you can give, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't touch them again I was just—"

His wings which were so beautiful to you before, makes you feel nothing but fear now, flapping angrily as he keeps his balance and shrouding you in shallow lack of light. When he lets up on his grip, you gasp like he also held your breath. Immediate relief streams through your blood, though he continues to trap you between his thighs. He asks you again and you sob.

"You know what happened the last time I let one of your kind close? Nearly fucking killed me for no reason. You know why I can't take you down the mountain? Why I'm stuck here by myself? Because a goddamn human stole my ability to fly. I can't fly anymore, do you understand me? That's all that I was and they took it!"

Yoongi sees the pity etching onto your face like some sort of charity case. With your pathetic excuse for tears that claim to sympathize with him and it makes the bile in his throat grow. As for you, you could have never imagined such a travesty. Those words that seem to bounce around in your skull, to be wholesomely one thing and to be rid of it by someone else's doing, you could never relate to that.

You itch to relieve his pain in some way as if he never lashed out on you to begin with. Like you were the one truly at fault here even though you know it's a two-way situation. Your hands struggle to not touch his face, to attempt to alleviate those dark, regretful feelings. "Yoongi, I'm so sorry. I would never—I would have never known--I'm from one of the villages where we look up to the—"

"Yeah, well I don’t trust people," He cracks, lungs filled with muddled sorrow.

Both of your breathing is ragged. He takes his leave off your body and sits on the edge of the bed, wings lamely drooped.

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

 You find the most beautifully carved wooden bow the next morning. Sun barely risen and adventuring around in nooks you haven't looked through before. You find it, accompanied by plenty of arrows, leaning against the wall right outside the backdoor. Though it's been months since you've last hunted, you ache to make use of yourself. Wearing bundled layers of the clothes Yoongi let you borrow from what was left and bounding through the condensed areas of the woods behind the cabin.

Food isn't scarce to hunt for, you've come to realize. Rabbits abundant and easy to kill once you got the hang of it once more. Two are struck and red seeps through white. You always sink your knees into the ground after each kill, whispering your thanks before you move back to the house.

Taehyung's father had taught you the basics of hunting and fishing and everything that came after that. Skinning and cooking and preserving the flesh something everyone in the village should learn to do, he had said. Even after your mistakes, even after your hesitation for your first kill, he'd always pat you on the back and reward you with the first bite of fresh food.

You miss them all, especially now. It wouldn't be long until you saw them again with maybe a bit of heightened skills. You hope they'll be proud of you.

Yoongi wakes a little after you're finished cooking the first rabbit. He stumbles in quiet and groggy, as if having no recollection of the previous altercation. But he doesn't speak, doesn't so much as look your direction before he plops at the head of the dining room table and begins to sulk in an odd inner-turmoil state.

You wait a minute or two by garnishing the meat unnecessarily; perhaps he was waiting to say something. To apologize. To ask questions. To kick you out once and for all. Well, you'll beat him to it then.

You set his plate down in front of him, the jarring sound breaking his trance enough where he can finally meet your face.

"I hope you don't mind I used your bow. I cleaned the arrows afterward and put it back where I found it," you hesitate. "I appreciate your kindness thus far; to take me in like this. I was a complete stranger and you gave me shelter anyway, so I thank you. I've packed and cleaned and I—I think it's time I leave now. I'll find a way to get over, I don't care. And I'm, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Yoongi. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I overstepped my boundary way too far yesterday and I apologize profusely."

You find that you dig your nails into your palms as you talk, head craned parallel to the floor and you wonder if Yoongi could even hear you when you were so rudely speaking to the rugs.

"Stop, you don't... You don't have to leave. There's still no way you can get over the snow." He massages the back of his neck, tense in his own skin.

"I'm so sorry," you repeat. "I let my stupid curiosity get the best of me and I can very clearly see how that made you feel alarmed and uneasy and—"

He cuts you off, "You know the myth, right? How it's bad luck to see a seraph's wings?"

Confused, you nod.

"It's not literal. It's a metaphor that it's bad luck to see our vulnerabilities. Our faults. Years and years and years ago, when the war was still active, I got mixed up with a human. Within enemy boundaries. I was naive and trusting and they made use of that. They sought out my weaknesses, ate 'em up and covered my suspicions with false adoration and love," he says the word like it's an illness, "But then. But then one night, they put something in my water. Drugged me. Something was wrong and I didn't fully go under. I suppose their original plan was to take me, probably torture me as a prisoner. But I caught on and still had a bit of composure and when they realized the drugs didn't work, they sought to kill me instead. Used a dagger and plunged it into my back as hard as they could. Right," he reaches an arm behind and massages a spot, "Right in the cross-section of where all four wings meet. I should have been paralyzed but we're tough. I can still move them but I haven't been able to fly since. Thank heavens I wasn't killed but..."

You can tell by the way that there’s no emotion in his statement, how true it rings, "That day, I might as well have been."

You wipe the pools of tears with your scarf, heartbroken for the shattered man that sat in front of you. Having to bear the sight of his wings every day and full-knowing he would never be able to use them again.

His voice croaks, "In their eyes, my own family's eyes, I commit a sin just by making such a fool of myself. The war ended and I was punished. They left me here and claimed loneliness is what I deserve."

Yoongi then realizes he sounds as if he's trying to justify yesterday's actions and literally sinks to the ground, "This isn't supposed to be a pity party. I just thought you might want to know why I am the way I am and how I had no right to snap like I did. I know you're from the north most village. And that you would never try to do what they did and I was wrongfully paranoid."

Then, out of all things unexpected, he grabs a bare ankle and lifts it out of the length of your dress. When you hobble, he grabs your gentle hand with his other to balance you. He can see the marks he left, not too dark but enough to tell and he can't help but despise himself. In pure remorse, he presses his lips softly to each bruise, not lingering for more than a second, before cowering to the ground with his head low.

"My sincerest apologies, Y/N. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I prefer if you wouldn't. I'd like to get to know you and redeem myself, as selfish as that may seem. Maybe, until spring, I can make up for the things I've said and done—"

You sputter, voice too high and full of embarrassment as you struggle to pull him up, "Please! P-Please get up! I am at fault here! Don't kneel, please! You have nothing to make up for!"

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he watches you yell your affirmations and weakly tug on his arm. It was like watching a little kid throw a fit and that makes him chuckle aloud, how could he have ever suspected you as harmful? When your large eyes shed tears like no other and you impulsively make decisions for others before yourself. You were kind and he could see that. He laughs hard and you stop your squawking.

In disbelief you fall to your knees right beside him, looking plain stupid while you're at it. It occurs to you that you've never heard him laugh like this, smile so wide that his eyes crescent endearingly and it just lights up the room. After watching his handsome face radiate forgiving happiness, you join in too.

You eat rabbit together. The conversations from there on out easier to come up with, more emotional and found in the midst of tranquil understanding. Like you now shared a bit more of each other than before.

Occasionally, you think of all the sadness he must have accumulated until now. Of the things that happened to him that shouldn't have, and those years of isolation and abandonment that he suffered. But now you realize, too, how he's able to laugh and continue on despite those melancholy winters in a desolate place that he once called home. How it's all he can do as his only sign that he's still alive.

 Part Nine

The weeks after that seem to breeze past you; time racing when you have more things to do and someone to do it with. Yoongi really meant it when he said he would try to make up for his past harshness; never daring to miss a meal, spending more time in the livelier rooms if it meant that it was to accompany you, going as far as helping you out with your own chores if he hadn’t taken them over entirely. It was a polar opposite of who you knew before.

The first time he joined you to hunt again, in favor of how you had cooked his meat the last time, he layered himself in clothing that made his appearance softer than you’d ever imagined. Leaning towards darker garments that contrasted against his opalescent skin.

In some haughty attempt to show off your archery skills do you aim for a squirrel in a less-than-mediocre angle, letting the arrow fly without a second thought and piercing good ol’ trunk. Yoongi had a fabulous time laughing at your mishap, yanking the wasted arrow from the bark and handing it back to you.

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

The temperature of your cheeks could have melted the snow, taking the thing with shaky, embarrassed hands, “I was being hasty.”

“You got two rabbits. I know you’re good. Let me just show you some things.”

You walked behind, letting him tread through the snow first so it was easier for you to fall into his prints.

“There. Squirrel,” he whispered. Probably the same one, mindlessly crawling up and down trees like target practice.

“Let me see your form again.” You aimed, self-conscious and probably showed it. You shivered when he swiped a hand under your grip arm, pushing it back.

“Keep it aligned with how the arrow is facing. Completely centered. You can widen your feet a little too,” his voice soft. “Don’t completely lock your elbow but tighten your back muscles before you hold. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. It won’t stop moving though, the squirrel.”

“Watch this.”

Then Yoongi had dug through the snow for a small stone with enough weight to throw. Aiming for a far tree to the right, he tossed just hard enough to cause a knock to echo in its vicinity. The squirrel halts, presumably looking for what caused the noise in its unknowing last thoughts.

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

He watched you silently each time you had knelt next to the victim and mutter your thanks, both sorrowful and appreciative. It was the first time he ever witnessed someone, frankly, talking to dead animals and at some point he asked you why you did so. You responded with a giggle, briefly claiming how all living creatures deserve the same respect, to be mourned, to not be wasted. Yoongi finds interest in the concept of valuing each as their own and of the same importance in the Grand Circle of Life, probably something his family would never have stopped to think about. The seraphs had always placed themselves above others in a deserving, self-righteous kind of way. It made him think.

❋

A particularly windy night and you caught him in the seat of his study's window, drawn to the mirage of colliding trees and listening to the croaks of the house on its plot. A muddled bottle sat on his desk, its glass counterpart being twirled in his hand.

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

"I didn't used to," he answered, unfazed by your sudden entrance, "Caused problems a lot of times. But I think they're pretty fun nowadays. And you?"

"I like when there's thunder and lightning."

Yoongi faced you at that, your twiddling fingers and the way you scanned the dim room.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Although it was a question he poured you one anyway, barely anything more than a few sips worth. Obliging, you took the liquid. Pride a little stung in all honesty, pretty aware of your high tolerance.

He tittered, "Don't pout. You can pour as much as you'd like. But this stuff is ancient, concocted from poison and the desire of Death itself. Watch yourself."

It was always a trait of yours to take on a challenge, though, ignoring his warning and foolishly gulping it down. The burn was subtle despite its awful, awful taste, yet you poured another and let Yoongi watch you spiral down the rabbit hole.

Two stories and one half-glass later and you draped yourself very unladylike on his desk, too warm and too moist and too loud.

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

"Min... Min. Mr. Yoongi."

"That's wrong but that's me."

"Yoongi you have to keep a secret. That I'm going to tell you! From Yoo—from Yoongi!"

"Wait, that you're trying to keep a secret from me or—"

You must had forgotten, instead focused on bunching your skirt and tying it higher up your thighs, "Soooo hot. Too warm. I'm going to leave it like this, ‘kay?"

"You don't have to pass it by me. They're your clothes," he said, biting back laughter. His accidental peak of pretty, bare legs could have made him think different though. Reverting his gaze back out the window, he wouldn't have been surprised to see lightning that night.

Taking his eyes off you wasn't his best idea. Hobbled out of his chair and sneaking to his place with hands buried in feathers before he could shy away. Yet the wonder stained your eyes with childlike amusement and he wouldn't dare change that face. So he idled in a flustered mess, relaxed in the way you unknowingly massaged his muscles.

"Pretty wings, Mr. Yoongi... Can I touch them?" You asked stupidly. Yoongi grumbled.

When you finished evaluating, you swiveled awkwardly and tripped over his knee, a yelp escaping your lips as if he wouldn't catch you in one swift motion and onto the safety of his lap. Yoongi could smell the bite of alcohol that stained your breath; could see how swollen and red and beautiful it had made your gentle face. The proximity was deadly and your innocent, apologetic features could have slain him right then and there. You didn't even make another peep, eyes drooped in what he assumed was embarrassment for your clumsiness.

In which he thought wrong, your hands slapping each side of his face and squishing it together horrifically. "Pretty face, Mr. Yoongi."

"Alright, time for bed."

You fought all the way until he tucked you in, out with soft breaths and sprawled arms. Even after he had laid you down to rest and calmed back in his lair, there was no slowing the fondness that grew in his ribs.

❋

You don’t know when you’ve started looking forward to Sundays, springing out of bed in the morning with a green thumb and a will to dig, or so you imagine. You knew Yoongi would be waiting for you in the greenhouse and spent a little extra time rinsing your face, doing your hair, and double-checking nothing was in your teeth.

Yoongi was already checking the pots when you had gotten there, wrapped in black per usual and winking as you walked by. The familiarity by now was tangible. There was always a nice flow to your conversations and Yoongi doesn’t back away when you naturally find yourself in his space like he used to. It was both a prideful accomplishment and an endearing new relationship that sparked joy every time you were able to do something together. To step back and see the difference over your time spent here, the things you’ve done, and the way Yoongi warms up slowly.

He watches you mindlessly hum as you harvest what you can, voice soothing when most times it would have been dead quiet. That’s what it felt like being around you: like a void suddenly filled, his whole being gravitating to your aura. You were addicting, if he had to admit.

The scarf, somehow pristine despite how often you wear it, is shuffled up your neck as you do one thing or another. Like a constant reminder that it’s there, you always feel the need to touch it.

Yoongi points to it, “Did you make that yourself?”

“Hm?” You follow his line of sight and crumple the red thing in your hands, “Ah! No. It… It was a gift.”

“Ooh, from a suitor?” He doesn’t mean any harm when he jests but it prompts the things you’ve left at home. No matter how much you’ve tried to suppress it down and not nitpick on the responsibilities you’ll have to return to. Awful as it seems, it makes you take notice to the sun and how it begins to peak out more with every day. You push the thought down once more.

Instead you laugh nervously. Yoongi knows immediately when you say nothing but, “Mmm…”

His gut twists from a melting of surprise and disappointment. How could he be so dim? To not even hypothesize the mere possibility of someone else being in your life. Though the feeling weighs heavy on his head, he speaks lightly and with a smirk.

“You must miss him then.”

“Yes. Of course. We’ve known each other since birth and have been best friends for as long as I can remember!” You chuckle, “He gave this to me right before I left and claimed we could get married once I returned. I was so shocked that I made myself sick thinking about going back. Just nervous, I suppose.” Taehyung, as expected, never said anything in the occasional letter updates to you. He meant it when he said he would only wait to talk about it for when you came home but you ponder how he feels now; what he’s been doing. If he’s changed his mind once he’s realized how incapable you are that you couldn’t even do the Offering correctly, but you know that isn’t true. Maybe just wishful thinking.

You throw dead leaves in the compost and Yoongi eyes you.

“’Shocked’? It’s not something you’ve been looking forward to?”

You look down, “It’s not that I—I don’t know! I just have seen him as family for so long and then there’s this sudden proposal without even talking about it beforehand… And everyone expects it. For me to just be married and have a family and all of that but I just, I just don’t see that for me so soon.” Your words begin to jumble and Yoongi hasn’t seen you so stressed within the span of twenty seconds before.

“Forgive me and my input but isn’t the most important thing what you want? You could just turn down his proposal,” He suggests like it’s the easy answer, hoping you don’t suspect a hopeful tone in there.

“Does it really matter what I want?” You stop to think about the people who matter to you and what would ease their minds most when it comes to your future. Marrying Taehyung seemed like the only option. “I can’t turn him down simply because I don’t want to. That’s selfish.”

“That doesn’t make very much sense to me.”

“Well,” you sigh, “in the village it’s courtesy to accept a marriage proposal regardless of how you feel. It’s the receiver’s obligation to be grateful towards—”

“Is that how humans treat their women?” Yoongi spits, agitated just by the thought. He leans against a table next to you, arms crossed like he’s simply not having it, “To ignore your own say and force you to think you should just be appreciative? That’s some bullshit.”

“It’s not as serious as I’m making it seem it’s just…” You think of your aunts and the elders and Taehyung’s mom. How you’ve grown into a nuisance, lacking here or there. The time where you were supposed to return to the village after a successful Offering and marry and finally be someone to be proud of. “In my case, especially, it’s probably better off I’m just someone’s wife. I’ve never been much to begin with.”

And that’s truly heartbreaking for Yoongi to hear, so much that he becomes enraged with whatever twisted society you grew up in, “Y/N. What have you been doing these last few months?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, what have you been doing? Just sitting around? Watching me sweep circles around you? Serve your meals on a silver platter and draw your baths? No, because you’ve been doing that yourself. For yourself. By yourself.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to huff before he continues. “Sure, you were a little rough around the edges with some things but who isn’t? You hunt, you cook, you read like no other, you do a lot of great things and it’s not because you’re trying to do it right. You do it right when you like what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi, I understand. Thank you but you don’t have to—”

He walks toward you, lecturing on. “I know it’s by unwanted circumstances. But has your time here been horrible? Have you despised being here and doing these things?”

Your answer is immediate, “No. Not at all.”

“Has it not been nice to have your own space and do things simply because you want to? Because you were thinking of yourself?”

“I-It has been… I don’t know where you’re getting at.”

Your legs hit the corner of another table and you notice he’s backed you up into it.

“So, you go back and you do what you want like you have here. Don’t worry about what they think. Wait until you’re ready. Marry for absolute, unwavering love. Be a little selfish,” Yoongi hooks your chin with his index and props it up. You didn’t even realize you were looking to the ground. “Look up.”

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

So Taehyung is his name, Yoongi thinks. He frankly does not care.

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

“Perhaps I was mistaken. Do you want to marry Taehyung because you truly love him?”

You see his lips before you hear his words, parted and nearing you bit by bit. So close that you feel his warmth, aching to close the distance. “I…”

A shovel clatters onto the stone and Yoongi removes his arm that’s found its way around your back, shuffles backwards and lets your hand fall from his face. It was natural to touch him, you realize, unaware that you feel distant and cold when he’s away.

Yoongi picks the damn thing up and curses. It wasn’t like him to be so forward, close to doing the unimaginable to you. You, who was involved with someone else. Heading towards the door, he ruffles his wings like he’s restarting.

“Forget I said that,” he requests, “I’m going to wash up.”

You nod, frozen in your spot with legs too unstable to dare walk. Without even knowing you had reached for him, so close to doing something you’ve only been secretly daydreaming about of recent and how incredibly wrong it was for you to think this way. But in another sense, you would feel worse lying to yourself by saying you weren’t attracted to the seraph. It was a twisted contradiction of emotions and you could scream.

Needless to say, you don’t see Yoongi until the next day, and even then nothing is mentioned of the almost.

Part Ten

On Tuesday, the bird returns with a letter from your family and Taehyung. It’s brief, with evident relief that the snow is melting and how happy they’ll be to see your face. Your heart sinks at how much you miss them yet how angry you are to receive the letter. To what extent would they be happy to have you home? Until you dare humiliate Taehyung when you turn him down? To dishonor your name and his parents and gain the glances of people who care more about your failures?

You calm and shoo such immature feelings away. Yoongi is confused when you don’t send a letter back and you return to your room early that night.

❋

You haven’t had a full night’s rest that entire week. You’re sure Yoongi notices the tension and that makes you feel horrible, but the lingering necessity to run to him and never go back to the village is too prominent to just face head on.

He’s been checking the trail every day, making dents on the softer parts of the snow when he can and updating you when he returns. You know he doesn’t want you to leave and you know he thinks you feel the same. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything about the proposal that day.

Flipped onto your back, you stare at the ray of moonlight that floats atop your bed. You would miss it here, so much that it hurts your throat. You would miss the windows, the kitchen, the greenhouse, the library that Yoongi was happy to share. It goes without saying that you would miss him the most.

Unprompted imaging of a possible future with him interrupt your thoughts, something so uncertain and fortuitous in comparison to the stone-set fate you have now. What the stoic seraph would think if you just asked him to stay a little longer, until you know you would never leave. The landslide and how much you had hated that unfortunate event seems so insignificant now, replaced with a dimmed appreciation for this life detour, no matter how short lived it will end up.

You’re probably on the verge of sleeping now, thinking of the incident and it’s wild connection to your present out of pure lunacy. You could bet your entire existence on the fact that you were meant to meet him; your entrapment by the snow no mere coincidence. Neither was Yoongi’s endless solitude atop this mountain. It had to be fate that you two were to meet at this moment and your heart feels it so strongly.

Even for you this could be too far-fetched, or maybe you were just trying to cover up the way your heart is undoubtingly falling for Min Yoongi.

 Final Part

 You prod the logs, provoking them to catch more of the fire. In your last night do you decide to pour a glass of wine, kneel on a pile of blankets and snack on the charcuterie board you made for yourself. In the past, you used to be so hesitant about helping yourself to the manor’s amenities, having no problem doing it now.

The lame, weak fire is your only source of light in the large living room, clouds blocking the moon from shining through. You feel, immaturely, just as cloudy. Set in your intentions to leave your feelings locked away as to not cause more trouble, confusion, and inevitable heartbreak.

“You look quite comfortable,” Yoongi surprises you and he can tell when you jolt. Speaking of the devil. He looks great in the dark too, leaning against a wooden pillar with folded arms.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived here for quite a bit. Just,” you break to sigh with exaggeration, “soaking it in before I leave. Too beautiful to not.”

If not for the crackling between the wood, it’d be dead quiet.

“Would you like to join me?”

He titters, rolling his eyes before he walks your way. Laying on his side, you offer him your glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the wine from the ritual contents. With the stuff you normally drink, this must be nothing.”

“Like water to me but I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

You cheers to nothing with one glass to share. Occasionally picking off meat and fruit from the board and enjoying how the fire builds up.

“Your family will be so happy to see you.”

You hum. You suppose they would. Avoiding the bitterness you still associate with the thought.

“And I’m sure Taehyung will be too.” He says a little clipped. Not in a way to be facetious or sarcastic but because he feels the need to address it.

Yoongi is caught on the carmine scarf again, downing the rest of your poor wine.

Forcing a smile, you speak faintly, “Let’s not talk about that.”

At this point you both know. He nods to keep you happy, but there is no hiding or pretending. In front of the flames, your lies and justifications seem to melt away unspoken. Changing the subject, you shove him lightly, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I don’t think you’ll ever learn to bake as well as I do.”

He tuts, which is refreshing. “I’m great at cooking and baking, I’ll have you know. It was just nice having someone else do it for once.” You feign betrayal and scoff aloud. He mumbles low, “But I’ll miss you for more reasons than that.”

And he breaks an unmade promise not to bring it up again. Feeling the need to throw it out in the open and even with the simplicity of admitting that he’ll miss you, you really know what he means. The seraph feels for you. He feels deeply. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response, just pops more food in his mouth and rests his eyes.

You contemplate, following suit with a bite to a grape and thinking hard. What to do. What to say. How to say it if you did. You weren’t supposed to feel this way and it goes way beyond the rule of even coming in contact with a seraph, let alone unconsciously falling in love with one. 

But that’s just it: how you live by assumptions and rules based off the words of the ignorant villagers and the elders, how they all believe the seraphs are all still here, how they think there’s a direct relation to the Offering and a year’s good harvest, how it’s bad luck to see a seraph’s wings when it’s brought you anything but. If you learned anything from this winter, it was that you found you own way of living, thank the curiosity your home curses you for. Making your own path instead of aimlessly walking one that was already paved. You learned to trust yourself a little more while Yoongi propelled you forward and believed you deserved it all. You learned you did deserve more. You learned what love really felt like when it was new and fresh and exciting and real. And Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi was the wine to your previously empty glass, and this winter with this man, it was heaven.

You decide the realization is enough for you. Have been gifted with so many things and blessings that you’re grateful for the chance to have met someone like him.

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi tastes bitter in his mouth. He felt that if all these years left alone in a manor of silence and rejection was to eventually meet you he would do it a million times, but if all you could reciprocate was this then it just wasn’t meant to be for him. It felt unfair but it also wasn’t his decision. He takes the sourness with him and stands. “I suppose I should head to bed.”

Your sad stare breaks his heart, even more so when you give up and nod. The fire catches your attention as it pops and you leave it at that. He tries to walk away, footsteps haunting, until he stops altogether.

It comes unexpectedly when he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his knees into your back. A weird sight it is to see his wings unfurl and curl around your rigid body. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough for you?” His voice is soft, like he could take either answer as long as he heard it from you directly.

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

“You’ve already done too much for me, how could I possibly ask you for more?”

He hisses liar into your ear. “Is it your family?”

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

Here you are again, faced with a question that tore you apart in the garden while you ached to be with Yoongi anyway. But there were no distractions here; nothing to interrupt your thoughts. Just you, Yoongi and your truth. He loosens his grip so you can face each other, knees between knees. Instinctively, you reach out for his feathers and indulge yourself with their softness. He pushes his wing into your hand as if to bribe you like a child.

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

A quick glint in his eye, a sort of relief, and then he finishes what he’s started and kisses you. It’s wrong how right it feels, lonely lips moving in tandem to find comfort in one another. Yoongi leans into it, absolutely devastated by your simple touch. The strength of the wine remains on your lips and he can’t help but lick into the flavor, drunkenly entranced by such luxuries. Yoongi’s hands can’t stay, snaking up your back, caressing your face, dragging his knuckles across your jaw and finally grabbing at the scarf. Carefully, he unwraps it from your neck, slow enough to feel it tickle your shoulder blades, before he folds it respectfully and places it elsewhere.

You sigh, more weight taken off your shoulders than there should be.

“Is this okay?” His voice raspy, speaking into the corner of your mouth. You’re stiff, nodding shyly and lacking the fire you brought up until this point.

He rewords, “Do you want me?” Yoongi feels the need to confirm, waiting for this moment for so long that it seems superficial. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll disappear into another one of his many short-lived dreams.

“Of course I want you, Yoongi. I want you more than anything…” But your eyes flicker to the ground, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Then what’s wrong, lovely? You don’t have to.”

“No! I want to, I just… I’ve never done this before. I want you so bad but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

His laughs are light, his hand on the small of your back as he dips you onto the floor. Holding himself above, he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I want you and we’ll go slow and if you decide you don’t want to anymore, we won’t.”

The way he makes you feel, how gentle he is, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way for this to happen. It eases you slightly, letting your arms snake around him in an attempt to let your guard down. He’s patient and wonderful and you mumble about it. “Mhm, okay.”

The night robe he’s gifted you now poses a problem, his slender fingers looping through the bow that keeps it wrapped, “Can I?” You nod again, and he unties you like his own present. The feeling of being bare in front of him becomes apparent when he sucks in and the heat from the fire dances against your skin. Other than that, you look to the window to avoid his face.

“My love, look at me.”

His commands are easy to follow but you cover your breasts to hang onto your last bit of pride, granting eye contact at the least.

Face flushed, you can tell he, too, is trying his best. “You’re incredible. More prepossessing than I could have ever imagined. You shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of me.”

“Well,” you retaliate, “it’s hard not to be when I’m the only one naked.”

He grins at the challenge, sitting up to shed his layers, never noticing his garments having to wrap around in a way to accommodate to his wings. You just thought it was just a more ornamental way of dressing that the seraphs took to. He’s left down to tight underwear that hugs him incredibly, beautiful milky skin exposed and tinted with golden light. “Satisfied?” He lilts.

“You look like an angel,” you trace indents of faint abs. Wide shoulders that taper into a tiny waist, a slim build that you could study forever.

He kisses your words away, pushing you into plush comforters and pillows. A makeshift nest unintentionally built for the two of you. A groan rewards him when he licks your bottom lip teasingly, taking your wrists swiftly to pin them above you. “Pretty thing, I don’t have a halo.”

He starts from the top, kissing each inside of wrist before moving down your arm, slithering onto your shoulder, then into the crook of your neck with gentle suckles. Teeth grazes before puncturing, eliciting a yelp from you that satisfies him. He does this over and over, decorating the canvas of your neck.

“I want to burn you into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget this,” he moans with a wake left down until he meets cleavage. His muscles were relentless, impatient and eager, wanting to worship ever square inch of your body as you rightfully deserved. Your squeaks serve his purpose, his muse as he continues his ministrations down.

Out of nowhere, “I don’t want you to leave me, Y/N.” The profession makes you giddy, happy you’re not the only one who feels so. A hidden insecurity acknowledged and lifted.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

He reaches your stomach and doesn’t hesitate to nibble there too, flinching when your hand flies to his head and buries itself in his hair. He ditches his current plan to grab your hand and plant a kiss to your palm in a second, making you giggle.

He admits, “I like when you touch me.”

“I want to. I feel so useless letting you do this alone.”

“You’ll get a chance if you’d like later. But right now, it’s all about you.” Husking it out. Of course, the idea sounds blissful, but the scene of having you cum by his actions sound better. “Need to cherish what’s in front of me properly.”

So he dips dangerously, laving at the skin above the hem of your panties and hooking his fingers under the sides, “Please,” he breathes.

“You… can do whatever you’d like to me. I want it all.”

He tugs his lip between his teeth, pulling it down. An unexpected wetness strings between your skin and the cloth and you both see it; him amazed, you horribly mortified. You stutter trying to explain yourself, oblivious that you could even feel as aroused as you do now. But his forehead falls onto the jut of your hipbone and you can hear subtle teasing in his tone. “I-I’m just as nervous and that was so incredibly sexy. I don’t think I can go on, shit.”

You laugh stupidly. “Quiet! Not another word! Just hurry up and—”

That terrible habit of looking away becomes your biggest fault, unprepared for Yoongi to filthily bury his tongue into your heat. He flattens his tongue and tantalizingly drags up until he can just barely flick your clit with the tip. Growling in the process.

“You are so sweet. The sweetest I could ever have. You will be the end of me.” Rushed in panted breaths as he does it again. And again. And again. So much that the growing sound of wet against wet echoes in the empty room and renders you paralyzed.

The feeling of it makes you squeamish, like you want to move, buck your hips, pull his hair. Despite the lewdness of having his rough tongue against you and lapping you clean, you could never ask him to stop.

“You just… keep getting… wetter…” He says between turns. “You really wanted me this much?”

“Yoongi—ah! Please, I can’t. It feels weird.”

“You don’t want me to continue, my love?” He asks lightly, blowing cold air onto damp skin and really forcing you to buck.

“No! I just… I have never felt like this. I want you to but I can’t sit still.”

“Oh? Let me help you then. But you have to let me finish.” So you shyly nod and loosen your legs. He uses the prompt to scoop them underneath his arms and attach the back of your knees atop his shoulders, your hips curving up and towards him in a new, tight position.

“Yoongi!”

“No matter how you feel, just let it happen.”

Sultry wails are music to his ears when he brutally sucks on your clit, licking your folds here and there and using all his strength to keep you in place. He spells out his love with his tongue, digs it into you sweetly. His power, though, anything but kind.

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

Unveiling your view, his stare immediately burns into your veins. Looking at you under dangerously slanted lids and that sinful mouth. Holding you in place with strength that could leave prints into your soft legs. With one roll of your clit under his teeth, you feel in ways you never knew how, as if all the pressure that built up in your abdomen suddenly overflowed with a tight burst. Choked sobs and hand gripping his hair enough to make him moan into you, vibrating wonderfully as he works you through it. 

He lets you go, remnants of syrupy arousal trickling down his chin; watches your legs fall open widely and your chest heave for air. Your features bring him joy, loving the way your hair sticks to your face with sweat, eyes closed, and brows knit together in concentration. He loved seeing you painted in warm hues and although he was never an artist, he could replicate this scene exactly how it’s displayed in front of him.

“How do you feel, lovely?”

You respond with a weak smile. “You’re so cruel… Min Yoongi.” You felt flimsy; weightless. A feeling you could come to love too much if you aren’t careful.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” slithering back up to rest his head in your neck, giving you more kisses like you haven’t had enough. You’re happy he’s back, massaging your hands over his torso, up his neck, down his spine. And then you hit it and he tenses.

Thick and raised, an area between his wings that softly juts out. It was fairly large and the texture varied from the rest of his beautiful planes of skin. It was a scar. Wide as a dagger.

“I wish it wasn’t there. I know it’s—”

“Yoongi, baby.” You nudge him to lift his head and he does unwillingly, face turned away. “My Yoongi, it’s nothing. What happened was horrible but it’s over. And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you by giving all of me.”

His lips stop you tenderly, a whisper of affection that pours out love, “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you’ve made me better. I wasn’t able to feel anything for a long time until you. So. Thank you.”

Any remaining embarrassment vanishes. Not when Yoongi’s done his part and you would do anything to take care of him.

Sweat molds your bodies together, heat emanating from a fire that’s ablaze now. There’s a private summer in this room while winter continues outside and it feels special to you. It’s hot here, hot when Yoongi scrapes his teeth against yours, hot where his pelvis lays. You take notice to the hard thing twitching against your thigh, making you flinch.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And we’re in A Mood and all.” Yoongi snickers.

“Don’t be,” you purr, feeling a bit lustful and reaching down to grab it through the cloth.

He hisses, “Fuck! Fuck, please, I’m so sensitive at the moment.”

Ignoring him, you unskillfully maneuver your fingers around him. Just touching to be familiarized with it. He surges forward accidentally, sighing in your ear as he shamelessly humps the space between your groin. You use his distracted state to pull his shorts down, the sudden reality of his skin touching yours bringing about sensual noises from the both of you. A sudden spurt of precum makes it easier for him to drag his heavy cock against your hip.

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

“Stop apologizing. I’ll help you.” You stare down as you flick your wrist, encircling him with fingers shaped in an o and pumping him slow.

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

“Is it… supposed to be this large?” It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when you’re not entirely clueless. You know his size exceeds average proportions.

“Don’t spoil me. Seraphs have always been larger than humans. Height wise, I was the smallest of my brothers though.” Which seemed unimaginable to you, not when he towers over you and could easily devour you in a hug. Cock hanging low and barely able to keep in your single hand. He must be acting coy.

“Now you’re just bragging!”

“I’m just being honest. I’m automatically pleasing to the likes of you,” he chuckles.

The dampness overflows, smears over your skin in incredible amounts and how you wish you could taste out of pure curiosity, but he has other plans for you.

“I don’t think I can hold myself any longer. Please.”

“That’s… fine. Um, should we? Like this?”

“It’s so hot, could you flip on your side?” You roll and he figures he’s made a mistake. Entranced by the way your weight, breasts and soft curves, naturally gravitate down in a seductive pose.

“Like this?” You ask, unaware that he could simply die right now.

He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder again, easy to stretch. “Perfect, my love. I’m going to go slow. If it’s too much we can try again another time, okay? No rush.”

Challenged by his kindness, you shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

Whatever’s left of the arousal between you both is more than enough to let him enter easily. Head of his member no problem to push past that initial tension.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

But it’s his shaft that makes you keen, entire length seeming endless as he fills you and overloads your maximum space. You cry, nerves making you writhe, “It’s not going to fit all the way—hah…wait.”

Yoongi struggles to hold himself back, perspiration dripping down his nose, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It doesn’t need to, I’m pretty close to being all the way in anyway.”

“I’m fine,” you pant, head lolled to the side as he stretches you out in an odd, numbing way. “You can… you can move.”

His hips test it, pulling out so little to only be sucked back in with a leveled grunt. “Baby, you’re barely allowing me to.”

“It feels so tight,” you sigh, worried that if you move it’ll really begin to hurt.

“Ah, really? Let’s do this then.” He quick to please, wanting your pleasure before his own and getting you to flip, propped onto your elbows and filled from behind. Smooth chest meets your arched back, him hiding a kiss below your ear while he’s there. A moan aches in your throat as his dick unintentionally digs deeper inside, easier to move and to the hilt.

“Is this better, Y/N?”

“Hah… Yes. Yes, so much better. So good. Please move.”

His hips roll, just enough to grind into you which feels nothing but euphoric in itself. You mimic each other’s lusty whimpers with every movement. Caving into each other’s kisses and licks and pants that you feel synchronized.

Yoongi grows impatient with himself, exaggerating how he pulls out and slams himself back inside. The mere force that he fucks into you sends you forward, opting to lay on your chest and bite the blankets beneath you to keep from screaming. “You feel so good. So, so good. I’m sorry it hasn’t been long, but I feel like…”

His wings fall at his sides and cover you in shadow. It’s weird to see them like this, in a way you could imagine the perspective of having them yourself. But it covers you in unnecessary warmth and makes you grunt.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a quick breath, “Let me on top. I’ll finish.”

The way his member slides out; the way it leaves you tensing over nothing is a sad, needy feeling. You don’t slow at the chance to lay him down and take control, straddling him and watching his face contort in loving awe.

Sitting on him is an entirely different feeling and Yoongi keeps himself from cumming inside you right away, a choke in his throat. “Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk. Y/N, I won’t last like this for long please—”

“I’ll make it quick.” You lean over him, palms to the ground as you start moving, grinding and using him to your advantage. The nerves start again and you shake with pleasure.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

Slender fingers dig into your velvety hips as he forces himself into you with harsh, quick jabs. “Baby, I have to cum.” He smooths his knuckles over your cheek, pulling you down into a tongue heavy-kiss in an impossibly fiery caress.

The ramming he enforces take incoherent sobs from your lips. You feel a ghost of a smile, sure Yoongi is enjoying your shameless display of indulgence; coming undone before his very eyes.

You arch into him, clenching tighter and falling onto his chest. With impeccable timing he pulls out, strings of hot white flooding between your stomachs.

“A lot,” you complain.

“Mmm. Because I’ve been waiting so long to have you.”

Without the pressure of moving, you lay on him despite the humidity. Petting the underside of his wings as they drape so gracefully against the blankets and the rug.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

“To see my family. To come home and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s afraid that you won’t come back, though.

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

❋ masterlist ❋

[jtrbluv]

tag game !

tagged by the lovely linh @latetaektalk ,, thank u soso much! this was so fun omg

tagging: @allurain @koushiningg @dreamystuffers @jinpanman @dulce-pjm @suhdays @pjmsdior @bangtans-peaceful-piegon @sugacouture

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

um i didn't rly write for any fandoms when i was younger, but i knew my 12yo self was probably conjuring harry potter headcanons in my head D:

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

for now, and for a long time, i've been writing for bts. i've like always been a multi from the moment i got into kpop but i've never actually fleshed out any of the wips i had for any other groups LMFAO. honorable mentions are got7, skz, haikyuu yup

3. how long have you been writing?

a longggg time, i think. i enjoyed writing fiction as a kid a lot. most of it would be like off-brand spy kids/harry potter/hunger games type beat stuff. and it was awful. but i was literally like 9 so cut me some slackLKSDFJSLKDjf

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

primarily tumblr and i only recently made an ao3 acc. the only fic i have on there is a tae drabble that's already posted on here LOL. i think it's 'resolutely, yours.' but i don't even remember bye. i remember i drafted drivers license on there but i literally forgot to post it so it's probably gone HAHA.

5. what is your favourite genre to write?

e2l even though i have no e2l fics on this blog i think

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

i used to never plan my fics, like at all. but then i was so unsatisfied with the flow of things and like idk lack of clarity. drivers license was the first time i actually sat down and planned out an entire fic as i was writing it. it rly does make things easier when u have an idea of what u want. and then just having the idea can help you possibly expand on it and get even better ideas off of it. the events of drivers license and the order it was all written in changed like 20394803 times. but yeah, does that make sense... LMFAO

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

one shots because i can never fucking get myself to finish a series. i love reading them tho

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

no clue. i love long stories and slow burn tho, it's just so satisfying and $wag when it's well-written and the characters are well-written too.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

the fic i'm about to post is nearing 20k, and it might even surpass that which will end up being the longest story on this blog. insane! drivers license is around 10k i think, and then if u combine the wnrs couple's fics it's like 15k? im too lazy to look tbh SRy

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

oh drivers license for sure! i don't think i've ever immersed myself and put so much effort into a story before. it was truly an amazing experience, and i just know that i'll probably never be able to write anything like that fic ever again. it's rly one of a kind for me.

11. favourite request you've have written and why (if any?)

most of the requests i had on this blog got taken down bc they were so bad. i'm not sure if the yoongi superhero!au is still up on here, but i'd choose that one since i really had to branch out of my writing style for it. regardless of it being like barely 2k.

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

miscommunication, so much banter, i used to see this a lot but i would take it out but... head bonking ??LSKDFJHAHA, my side characters being dumbasses and then my main characters being even bigger dumbasses (oc probably being the biggest dumbass)

13. current number of wips?

during the course of writing the current fic i plan on posting this week, i created like 5 wips and they all hit 5k, and then i straight up abandoned them. and then the endless idea bank google doc. so if i count the wips i for sure want to finish by like this year or summer... like 3 or 4.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i feel like i repeat stuff a lot throughout all my stories LOL,, it irks me so bad. i think i relate to all my ocs in at least one way or another.

15. a quote you like from a published story

alrighty this is a lil snippet from 'drivers license':

this is from the second letter oc wrote to jk:

"The same delusional daydreamer hopes that one day we can talk and laugh like old pals. Like nothing ever changed between us. I hope you achieve your dreams that you always thought seem too far-fetched, yet in the back of my mind I always knew you could easily grasp. I hope someday you can live a life of lesser worries and insecurities, because you rarely had any to start off with. I always hoped the world for you, because you deserve it. And despite everything, I still believe you do."

this paragraph seems pretty simple but i think it did the best job of like describing oc's emotions and realization of things,, its kinda cliche tew yas love that

16. a quote from an unpublished story

alr this is from the e2l jimin series that is going to take me forever to write bc the outline for it is SO LONG

“Would it kill you to at least show up with a shirt on?“ You sneer, patting your forehead with the back of your hand due to the sweltering sun. The event hasn’t even started yet and you can already feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck.

Crossing his arms, he scoffs, his biceps bulging out as his arms bend. Not like you were staring at them. “Sorry couldn’t hear you, too busy boosting the school’s morale.”

17. space for you to say something to your readers

i feel like i don't show enough appreciation to my readers and mutual on this blog. i have met so many lovely people and have gotten so much support, i hope u all know that it does NOT go unnoticed. i always tend to go back and reread all the comments and asks that i get on my stories bc it rly does make my heart soar. it makes my day!!! thank u all for sticking with me thru all my 3am shitposts and inconsistent writing schedule LOL,, you all have my whole heart and some more <3

[ejzah]

A/N: The next chapter of the Agent and the Lawyer. Loosely based off of Absolution. I’m trying something a little different with the structure and not following the episodes so closely.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 18

“We should run together every morning,” Deeks said as he and Kensi rounded a bend in his favorite beach side path. “There’s this great little convenience store where we can grab coffee and a mostly fresh donut. The coffee’s not great, but the owner is super nice.”

Beside him, Kensi was matching him stride for stride, her breath even despite the pace. She smiled at his description, shaking her head.

“It’s not a good idea to follow a particular routine. It’s too easy for your movements, habits, and location to be tracked,” she explained. He knew how important it was for the team to maintain relative anonymity, but sometimes he thought they all took it a little far.

“It’s just coffee Kens. I’m sure no one suspects me of being a big bad fed or cares where I go.”

“Don’t let Sam catch you saying that. He’ll rip you a new one.”

“So does that mean no coffee?” he asked. It was definitely a part of his routine and gave him the energy to run all the way back home. Kensi groaned and tossed her head back, but didn’t put up any further protest when he led them to Sandune Convenience store. “Hey Frank!” he greeted the owner, heading for the canisters of brewed coffee.

“Hi,” Kensi said, looking a little uncomfortable as she waited for Deeks to fill a paper cup for her. Frank shot them a curious look, but didn’t comment.

“I ran five miles today, Deeks told Frank. Kensi snorted at that and said,

“Uh, that’s a big fat lie, he ran three.”

“So rude,” he said, amused at how quickly Kensi had abandoned her reservations when given the chance to make fun of him.

“I thought you were buying me a donut,” she reminded him.

“Of course, my lady.” He grabbed two Boston Creams and an apple fritter because he knew from past experience that when Kensi finished hers, she’d likely try to steal part of his.

After chatting with Frank for a few more minutes-his oldest daughter would be graduating from high school soon-they headed back on to the path. Their pace was leisurely now as they munched on donuts and drank coffee. It was significantly more enjoyable with Kensi beside him.

“Hey Marty!” A woman called out as she ran by. Deeks waved back without thinking.

“You know, if I was the jealous type, I might be worried about all the women who know you, wherever you go,” she said, gesturing with her cup.

“What can I say, I’m a friendly guy,” he said with a shrug, grinning around the rim of his cup. It was adorable when she got jealous.

“Mm, be careful you don’t friendly yourself into singledom.” He rolled his eyes at her warning and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Kensalina, you know I would never cheat on you.”

“I would hope not,” Kensi said, looking a little uncertain. “You would certainly regret it if you did.”

“I would never,” he repeated seriously. “You have my promise. I’m not that kind of guy.” He saw her cheeks flush a little and she glanced away as an awkward silence grew between them.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and Kensi reached for hers, seeming grateful for the distraction.

“Hey Eric,” she said. “Uh-huh. Ok, we’ll be there in a bit.” Deeks heard the faint sound of Eric’s voice raise in a question. “Oh, yeah, I promised Deeks I’d pick him up.” She forced a laugh and hung up quickly.

“Smooth,” Deeks teased.

“Shut up. Hetty wants us in OPS. Something to do with a dead antiques dealer.” She tossed her trash in a nearby can and then bent down to tighten a shoelace. As she stood back up, she turned to face Deeks, her expression playful. “I’ll race you back.”

Not waiting for him to respond, she took off at a sprint, her delighted chuckle floating behind her.

“Man, you are so whipped,” he said with a smile as he tossed his own cup and followed after.

***

“Where’s Deeks?” Callen asked when Kensi walks into OPS about an hour later. After they got back to his house, they’d made out in Deeks’ garden for several long minutes. Kensi had been highly tempted to call off work and finish what they’d started a couple weeks ago. Common sense had prevailed and she’d reluctantly left before she took Deeks up on his offer to join him in the shower.

She didn’t mention that to Callen though and shrugged.

“He got called into the office for a last minute legal emergency,” she explained.

“What exactly qualifies as a legal emergency?” Sam asked.

“He mentioned something about a CPS case that isn’t going well. He’ll come as soon as he can.”

She found herself turning to make comments to Deeks more than once while Eric, Hetty, and Nell explained who Sebastian Renner was. It felt weirder than she expected without Deeks by her side. She’d grown used to his comments and, often, inappropriate jokes, as well as his unique insight into cases.

***

Kensi smiled involuntarily when she walked back into the bull pen a couple hours later and saw Deeks sitting at his desk.

“So what’d I miss? he asked.

“Our victim, Sebastian Renner, was an arms dealer, a bunch of spies from other countries are now vying for his black book, and Hetty has an ex-German Police officer named Branston Cole, who might have pertinent information,” she summed up. Deeks looked a little stunned for a second and then nodded.

“Wow, this is the last time I take a morning off. You guys bring out the fun cases when I’m gone.”

“Well, now you get to join the fun too,” she said with a smile, grabbing her gun and slipping it into her waistband. Deeks hadn’t passed his firearms training yet, so he just watched. “Callen and Sam got chased out of Renner’s home by his dogs earlier. Now that they’re gone, Hetty wants us to see if we can find anything else.”

“So did you make it here on time this morning?” he asked, smirking at her. “You seemed a little disorganized and, uh, distracted when you left my place.” She smiled sweetly, pretending she wasn’t currently remembering the feel of his chest, damp with sweat, pressing into hers.

“I made it just fine,” she answered. “How was your shower?” Her voice was innocent, but she let her eyes drop a bit lower than was strictly polite.

“It was cold. Very cold.” Kensi snickered at that as they walked out.

***

“M-O-U-S-E?” Kensi said scathingly as she finished cuffing the two men she and Deeks had just fought. She rifled through one’s suit pocket and found a DGSE ID.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked. “I’m not and Agent and I’m not LAPD. You guys were shouting out your little acronyms and I felt left out. Which, reminds me, why the hell did you kick an NSA Agent in the groin?”

Kensi let out an irritated sigh and showed him the ID.

“He’s French Intelligence, Deeks. He was lying.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known that though.”

“I had a hunch,” she said with a shrug. Deeks made an outraged sound.

“A hunch. You don’t kick a guy in the nuts over a hunch!” He felt a little nauseous at the thought and resisted the urge to cover his crotch.

“I recognized his accent. It’s not American.”

“He didn’t have an accent,” Deeks said, horrified for the agent who was slowly gaining consciousness.

“I’m trained in linguistics, Deeks. I know the difference between French and English speech patterns,” she insisted.

“You’re insane.”

“Deeks, you’re acting ridiculous.” He ignored her, shaking his head.

“Sometimes it’s like I don’t even know you.”

***

Kensi watched Deeks from a few feet away. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his lips were split in a wide smile as he chatted with Sam and Callen several seats away.

They’d successfully apprehended a German spy named Matthias and the FBI and NSA were looking for the rest of the spies. They’d had to leave Deeks behind since he wasn’t authorized to carry a weapon.

Now they were at a nearby bar, per Deeks suggestions and on his dime. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. After a few drinks, Nell challenged Eric to a pool game and had even shed the little sweater she wore of her think strapped dress. There was definitely something going on there.

The combination of Deeks’ considerable charm, which he was working to it’s full limits, and large amounts of alcohol both had even Callen and Sam more at ease than she’d seen them in a while.

Deeks noticed her watching and headed her way. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Nicely done,” she complimented him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently.

“You know that once they sober up, they’re still going to ride you.” He groaned, dragging out a stool to sit next to her.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I can’t use the same methods I used with you,” he pointed out. Kensi rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you are way too full of yourself,” she said. He chuckled, resting his hand on the middle of her back. He probably did it without even thinking, but Kensi tensed immediately. She roughly pushed his hand away, glancing around to see if anyone had caught Deeks’ slip.

Fortunately they all were occupied and she let out a slow breath of relief. Beside her, Deeks had gone silent, making her belatedly regret her hasty actions.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He scratched at jaw, not meeting her eyes, which always a bad sign. “I just didn’t-“

“No, it’s ok. I get it.”

“The team is here and we agreed not to...” she trailed off awkwardly as Deeks filled in.

“Yeah, no, we agreed to keep out relationship quiet. I just forget sometimes.” He sighed, the sound heavy. Kensi looked down for a second, pressing her lips together as she tried to think of some way to brighten the mood again.

“You want to come over tonight when we’re done here?” she asked as a form of peace offering. So far she hadn’t let him past her living room and that was only after she hastily straightened everything. Deeks allowed a tiny smile, clearly realizing her attempt to apologize without actually apologizing.

“I would, but I have to work on that pro bono case. It’s a mess,” he said. Kensi wasn’t sure if it was a convenient excuse, but she felt a small sinking in her stomach.

“Ok,” she said in a small voice.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure.” She tried to tell herself she was overreacting, but couldn’t help notice the distance Deeks kept between them for the rest of the night.

***

A/N: Ooh, unexpected drama. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to have anything terrible happen.

[justjeonday]

Serendipity | jjk x pjm

Serendipity; the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

By a slip of his finger, Jeongguk ends up meeting his neighbour on the rooftop of their apartment complex - and he finds himself wanting to stay in the moment forever.

Click here to read on AO3.

- pairing: jeon jeongguk x park jimin

- word count: 6K 

- rating: PG-13

- genre: sO much fluff, angst, neighbours AU, student!jeongguk, dancer!jimin, airdrop AU, strangers to lovers, jeongguk is shy uwu, you could also call him a professional procrastinator. jimin is intimidating but what’s new

- warnings: descriptions of social anxiety, one or two swear words in there oops please excuse my language

- notes: i didn’t really plan for this to be a mxm fic but it just felt right?? this feels really random and i don’t know if it makes sense at all but please enjoy, I had fun writing it! feedback is very welcome as well <3 

also, if you like listening to music while reading, any lofi would go great with this! perhaps, even a lofi version of serendipity... haha jk... unless??

this is partly inspired by the game missed messages created by Angela He, I saw someone play it on youtube and got this idea!

huge thanks to zoe for helping me with this fic, i love u <3

this is a part of the @ficswithluv​ bulletproof bingo event!

gif by @nanzse, found here.

Jeongguk's room is washed golden as he lays on his bed, soft lofi playing from his phone next to him as his fingers in an unmotivated manner slowly press lettered keys on his laptop. He couldn't be less excited about writing this essay, the assigned topic of 'happy accidents' being something he's not really able to make a connection to.

After getting down a simple, uncreative title at the top of the page, only to end up deleting it, he sighs as he rolls over on his back and lets his eyes flutter closed. The rays of sunshine seeping in through his open window feel nice against his honey skin, the mild May breeze brushing it ever so slightly. This would be perfect if it wasn't for the empty document displayed beside him, calling at him to finish writing already.

He loves evenings like these, just being, listening to the hustle of Seoul coming from the streets as a soft beat escapes his phone. There's something about sunsets that renders a calm to wash over Jeongguk's body, no matter how stressful or dull his day might be - the sight of a sunset makes him stop for a moment; makes him pause and enjoy the present. It's something he treasures deeply, how the warm hues of orange blend in with the blue. It makes him feel excited to be alive, thankful to exist.

He imagines it’s like finally being able to release a breath; coming up for air when you've been held under the surface for almost too long. It quiets his mind, rids him of thoughts that weighed down on his shoulders during the day.

A sudden pling erupting from the laptop causes Jeongguk's eyes to open, the sound harsh in contrast to the music that brought him to his own, peaceful utopia. He frowns as he sits up, grabbing his laptop and placing it in his lap before he leans against the wall his bed is pushed up against.

Jiminie's phone would like to share a photo.

The notification makes Jeongguk furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Who is Jiminie and why is he airdropping Jeongguk of all people? 

Out of boredom and in search for another excuse to procrastinate the essay, he decides to see what the stranger wishes to share with him. He clicks accept, and on his screen two pictures appear - causing a scoff to escape Jeongguk's lips.  It's dumb really, but despite the unnecessary and pointless pictures, he feels a small smile spread on his lips. He expected something stupid, something to cause a huff and a roll of his eyes - to make his disappointment in humanity increase further.

On his laptop, two pictures of a cat wearing sunglasses are displayed. Jeongguk shakes his head as he snickers quietly by himself. He really doesn’t understand why he finds it so funny but he can't deny it made his evening a little bit better, the dull mood caused by the essay a bit brighter.

He decides to write a thank you in return, typing a few words of gratitude before he hovers over the send button. Should he reply? Maybe he shouldn't. What if the airdrop was sent to the wrong person? It'd make him look stupid if he wrote back.

After over-scrutinizing further, he chooses not to send anything back after all and goes to hit delete, but presses down on the wrong button.

Note sent.

He curses under his breath, cheeks turning crimson in embarrassment. It’s been done, there’s no reason to dwell over it. There’s nothing he can do.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair as he shuts the tab, and he's once again met with the sight of a blank page, making him sigh in frustration. Happy accidents. What is he even supposed to write about? His mind is blank, much like the document before him, there's really no specific event in his life relating to the theme he's able to think of.

What a foolish choice of topic.

He feels his heart skip a beat in surprise as yet another notification pops up on his screen. He nibbles at the skin of his bottom lip for a few seconds before he clicks accept once more.

7:49 PM: My pleasure! So... 'Genji', what are you up to?

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut in further embarrassment at his laptop device name. He could’ve just gone for something normal, something simple like 'Jeongguk's laptop'. He sighs at himself as he starts writing a reply to the stranger, who he assumes is named Jiminie - a wild guess thanks to the device name; the simple, non-cringey device name.

7:51 PM: It's Jeongguk. I'm up to nothing much, just procrastinating my essay...  u?

Jeongguk presses send before he gets the chance to hit the backspace button and overthink his choice of words. After his note is sent, he finds himself waiting for a reply - eyes lingering in the corner of the screen as he looks for the next notification to pop up. Or the next excuse to further procrastinate, if you will.

And before long, there's another note waiting to be accepted. Without hesitancy, Jeongguk clicks it.

7:54 PM: Bored, looking for something to do... maybe some fresh air could benefit the both of us? ;)

The reply makes Jeongguk quirk an eyebrow at his screen, a faint blush settling over cheeks as he feels flutters of excitement in his gut and nerves blooming in his chest. A few minutes go by as he reads the words over and over, asking himself what to do. He eventually decides to reply even with the amount of intimidation he feels - despite his introverted nature. This time he sits for longer, fingers hovering over keys as he looks for words that sound okay in his head.

8:01 PM: What are you initiating, Jiminie?

Jeongguk’s heart beats fast in his chest as he presses send, fingers picking at the fuzz on his cheek as he partly dreads the reply, partly looks forward to it in a strange anxious excitement. This is so unlike him, to do spontaneous stuff like this, make plans and decisions last minute - especially when he’s well aware it’s involving a complete stranger. He likes knowing what’s gonna happen and giving himself time to mentally prepare for occasions like these, or preferably avoid them.

8:02 PM: Meet me on the rooftop in 20? I'll be waiting.

His face grows hotter as he reads the note repeatedly. He's never done anything like this before. It makes him excited, but causes his hands to become clammy at the foreign but tempting opportunity - a subtle anxiety starting to grow in his chest as he thinks of all the possible ways this could end.

Does he go up to his rooftop in twenty minutes to meet the stranger, put himself through awkward silences and worry? Or does he stay inside, alone, to continue procrastinating his essay?

The latter of the two options does sound much more boring, however, more comfortable and safe in his mind. Yet, he can't help but feel intrigued by this Jiminie he just chatted with, and he's curious.

Fuck it.

He gets up from his bed, grabbing a decent outfit from his wardrobe before throwing it on. He stands in front of the mirror, scanning over the black fabrics before shrugging and deciding it'll do. He doesn't want to be overdressed, or appear as if he actually worried about how he looks. Which he in reality, actually did - but Jiminie doesn’t need to be aware of that.

Before he knows it, fifteen minutes have passed. He slips his boots on and proceeds to stand by the door, watching the time tick on his phone. As the numbers read 8:21 PM, Jeongguk inhales a shaky breath to calm himself before he steps outside of his apartment.

Nerves spread like wildfire in his chest as he walks up the staircase towards the door leading to the rooftop. He stands before it for a few seconds, trying to compose himself before pushing it open. He's met with a world illuminated pink and the smell of cherry blossoms, a warm pleasant breeze brushing through his hair as he takes a hesitant step outside onto the concrete floor.

He doesn't do stuff like this. Jeongguk likes keeping to himself, he enjoys being alone in his room. The most communicating he does is through his headset while playing overwatch. What got into him today, what reason made him say yes to meeting a stranger on his rooftop, he's not certain of.

Jeongguk closes the door behind him as quietly as possible before turning to scan the area, eyes looking for someone unfamiliar; someone his eyes have yet to know.

He's caught by surprise as his wandering gaze stops at the sight of a figure. He sees pink, pink hair swept by the gentle wind. Soft pink, rosy and warm in contrast to the lightblue fuzzy jacket the figure is clad in - a contrast replicated in the sky above.

He's even further intimidated by the daring choice of hair color, another reason along with the previous one of the bold, somewhat flirtatious way he asked Jeongguk to meet on the rooftop just twenty minutes ago.

Jeongguk, after gathering the courage, slowly starts walking closer - nerves almost prompting him to quietly turn around and return to the safe, comfortable space of his apartment. He could leave right now and come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't show up. He considers it for a second, however, he quickly shakes the thought away, not wanting to go through with it no matter how tempting it may be.

He's tired of excuses.

He keeps moving forward, closer to Jimin standing with his back towards Jeongguk - looking out over Seoul.

As his boot scrapes against the ground, the pink-haired turns his head - looking over his shoulder to meet Jeongguk's doe eyes. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

More like a bunny, maybe?

Jimin smiles at the sight, now turning with his whole body to greet the younger. "Jeongguk-ssi, you showed up," says Jimin, perfectly plump lips stretching into a smile; showing off his flawlessly aligned teeth.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything, still a few meters away when he stops to give a small bow in respect.

He still doesn’t know why he agreed to this, he’s very well aware a silence like this always lays in the air around him when he’s meeting new people. That’s why he usually avoids occurrences like these, not wanting to put himself in such an anxious state.

He's always awkward when meeting strangers, especially if he's alone - when the conversation is depending on both him and the other involved to keep going. He never knows what to say, never able to find words that feel right. He hates small talk.

Although with Jimin, there's weirdly a welcoming atmosphere in the air. A smile that allows his shoulders to relax slightly, an ambience that tells him to breathe out and be himself. Jeongguk has never felt anything like it before.

Jimin keeps the younger's gaze, and the attention makes Jeongguk look down as a subtle blush settles over the tops of his cheeks. At the same time, while Jimin exudes a scenciere and relaxing vibe, his aura also feels intimidating - radiating confidence and self-esteem much unlike Jeongguk.

Jeongguk doesn't like to stand out in a crowd, he's reserved and timid - he'd rather stay quiet and he has no problem with that, he likes being alone to some extent. When he goes too long without meeting any of his close friends though, he tends to get lonely. That’s when he finds himself wishing he was different in that sense, that he could go out and make new friends whenever he felt like it without having to worry so much about first impressions, or if he stutters too much. 

His wardrobe is mostly black, not only because he simply likes how the color looks on him - but also because it feels safe, it’s not too out there. He usually puts on a bucket hat whenever he's out and about, mostly to avoid any awkward eye contact. He could never imagine himself dying his hair pink, or any other color for that matter - since he imagines it'd bring him unwanted attention.

That's just the way he is, and he's always been that way. But he can't deny the desire to be braver, more willing to experiment and explore. He wants to experience more, like dating or just going out with friends without worrying too much. He almost feels stuck, restricted because of this anxiety. It sometimes keeps him up at night, has him wondering who and how he’d be as a person if he was different in that aspect.

Jimin is somewhat stunned himself, much like Jeongguk. He really had no expectations going into this, but the person before him wouldn't be one of them if he did. He wasn't picturing someone who wears black oversized clothes, someone so big and muscular - yet shy. There are obvious outlines of a toned chest under the fabric of the hoodie, only a little more obvious than the pink apples of his cheeks. It makes Jimin's heart warm.

"Are you not gonna join me?"

Jeongguk averts his eyes from his own boots as Jimin’s voice pierces the silence, even though it’s soft and inviting. He becomes very aware he's still standing an awkward distance away at the question, giving Jimin as small nod as he walks up to the railing - fingers tightening into fists as he tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie.

His gaze wanders over the busy street below as he searches for the right words to say, but he can't seem to find any. He sneaks a glance at Jimin before he looks up at the sky, feeling a solace embrace him. He exhales as his body relaxes at the sight of the sunset. Everything’s okay.

"Do you-" he stutters slightly, stopping mid-sentence to compose himself. "Have you lived here long? I haven't seen you around," he manages to say, a small flower of pride growing in his chest.

Jimin is taken aback hearing the shy speak, gaze falling upon him to meet big, constellation-filled brown eyes, in which create a sunset of their own as the sky reflects in them - an even prettier one, as stars in his orbs decorate it further.

"No not really, I moved in just a few weeks ago," Jimin replies. "I spend the majority of my days at work though, so that's probably why we haven’t met yet."

Jeongguk feels a question linger at the tip of his tongue, deciding to let it free before he overthinks it.

"What do you do?" he asks, partly to keep the focus of the conversation away from himself but for the most part out of curiosity.

Jimin smiles at the interest, running a hand through his hair before speaking. "I do contemporary dancing, weird huh?"

"I don't think it's weird," Jeongguk shrugs. "Why do you say that?"

Jimin looks out over the city, painted pink, as he searches for an answer. "Well, it's not a typical job and you don't really earn a lot doing it. Most people would say it's stupid to work towards a career like mine, that it won't get me anywhere."

Jeongguk listens as Jimin speaks, and he notices a spark of passion glimmer in his eyes.

"So why did you choose that path?" Jeongguk surprises himself as the question rolls off his tongue, noticing how his shoulders are no longer as tense.

"I've been dancing ever since I was little, there's just something about it that I love. It's my escape, in a sense. Whenever I dance, all I do is move to the music - I don't think of anything, I don't worry. It’s almost as if my mind goes quiet." He says, eyes following the fluffy clouds floating over the sky. "It's really not about earning money for me, and even though it's nice to benefit from it in a financial way, that's not what keeps me going. It may be tough sometimes but I love dancing, and that's why I do it. Despite it not being an average job, or the most reliable and profitable one."

"I like that though, the fact you're doing something that's different. I think it's important to do something you enjoy, something that makes you excited to wake up and get ready. I hope I can find a passion like that in the future." Jeongguk avoids meeting Jimin’s gaze for even more than a second, eyes moving from him to the sky, then down to watch people walk by below.

Jimin turns to Jeongguk with a smile, chest filled with warmth at his words. "I hope so too."

Jeongguk gives a small smile in return as a silence falls over the both of them, but it's not one you necessarily want to fill. It's peaceful and comfortable, much to Jeongguk's surprise.

They stay like that for another hour, sitting with arms resting over the railing as their feet dangle over the edge of the building while they get to know each other - carefully stolen glances and unspoken words lingering at the tips of their tongues. Night has now fallen over the city, neon lights decorating the streets as bars become crowded and streets become busy - even more so than before.

Upon spending time together, albeit for just an hour or two, Jimin finds himself growing quite fond of Jeongguk.

At first sight, he wouldn't have expected the boy next to him to be so shy - as someone who blushes at compliments and eye contact lasting for more than a few seconds. All this is hidden beneath his attire, sporting chunky boots along with ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie - also considering that these are all black. Dark from head to toe. It almost makes him intimidating to Jimin, in a way. However, Jimin must admit it looks really good on him, it suits him, but it doesn't match his personality one bit. He's sweet and timid, all bunny smiles and dimples with big, sparkly, doe eyes - far from what Jimin would associate with the dark, edgy style he's donned in.

After another tranquil silence hangs in the air around them, Jimin looks at the watch on his wrist - noticing the clock is nearing 10 PM. He’d love nothing more than to stay here, learning more about Jeongguk, talking nonsense, just being in his presence.

He had heard Jeongguk laugh for the first time as he asked about his device name ‘Genji’. He had with a smile explained the reasoning to Jimin, talking about how it was inspired by a character named just that of his advice from a game he played - because said character is one that needs healing, in this case, charging the most often. Jimin has never found video games fun or entertaining, but when it’s Jeongguk who speaks of it; he feels as if he could listen for hours, secretly admiring the dimples that dip in his cheeks as he smiles.

“I have work tomorrow, I should probably get my eight hours of beauty sleep in before I have to wake up,” Jimin chuckles, and as much as he hates to say it - he really needs to get rest considering he’ll be working on a new choreography tomorrow, which he knows requires more energy and focus than just practicing.

They accompany each other as they make their way down from the rooftop, shoulders brushing as they walk down the stairs - slowing down as they step onto the seventh floor.

"This is me," Jimin says, head nodding in direction of the door with the number 202 on it.

Jeongguk stands quiet, a small smile on his lips as he suddenly feels awkward again - gaze wandering around the hallway, avoiding the other’s eyes.

Jimin decides to speak instead of waiting for Jeongguk to, having gathered by now that he’s someone who needs that extra push to get comfortable around someone - that it's easier for him to speak if someone helps guide the conversation forward. Although, he noticed Jeongguk slowly warming up to him on the roof; and he’d be laying if he said it doesn’t makes his heart happy.

"Thank you for meeting me tonight Jeongguk, I had a really great time," Jimin says, smiling as he backs up towards his door.

"So did I," Jeongguk replies, looking down at his boots as his smile grows bigger. "Goodnight, Jimin-ssi." He gives a small bow in Jimin’s direction.

There's really no need to be so formal anymore, there never was, but Jimin appreciates the gesture of respect nonetheless.

He decides to play along, bowing at a 90 degree to the younger angle with arms stiff against his sides. "Sleep well, Jeongguk-ssi."

Jeongguk chuckles at him, and the sound makes Jimin smile.

Minutes later, Jeongguk walks into his own apartment - adrenaline rushing through his veins because of the new, exciting experience. He lets himself lean back against the door after closing it, eyes squeezing shut as he smiles widely.

He feels stupid, like he’s a teenager with a crush. As he thinks back to what just happened, thinking about Jimin's smile, his light touches over the fabric on Jeongguk's shoulder - he feels a tickle in his gut, cheeks growing hotter as he longs to be in that presence again even though it’s only been minutes since they said goodbye.

He tries to shake the thoughts of the pink-haired away but it’s of no avail, kicking his boots off and stepping into his apartment as he exhales. He figures there's no use trying to finish his essay now, knowing his mind will wander to picture Jimin's face in his mind - try to recall the sound of his angelic laugh.

Oh, how he loves Jimin's laugh. The way he throws his head back, eyes turning into crescent moons as his hand comes up to cover his mouth - his knees almost buckling underneath him. He laughs with his whole body, and it makes Jeongguk feel a kind of joy he's never felt before. He'd do anything to hear that laugh over and over again, he’d even give up overwatch.

Jeongguk falls back on his bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tries to rid his mind of Jimin again. It's hopeless. He's already too far gone.

The next few days go by agonizingly slow. Jeongguk sits through multiple online classes, each getting harder to concentrate on than the previous one.

He got a taste of Jimin that night, his smiles, his touch, his laugh. He got a taste of that new, alien feeling - the butterflies, the leap of his heart inside his ribcage.

He craves more. He wants to feel it again, he wants to feel that rush he felt when they first met - that joy he felt by just being with Jimin, sitting next to him and listening to his voice as he speaks.

By Friday noon, three days later, he's on his way home from the nearest store with his beloved bucket hat on as per usual, a bag in each hand as he walks back home - most of the contents being ramen and banana milk, of course. He pushes the door to his apartment complex open by turning around and pressing his back against it, squeezing himself along with the heavy bags through the frame before walking over to the elevator.

He'd secretly wish to bump into Jimin, anywhere, anytime - like he has been ever since they met on the rooftop - but he's been finding it useless so far. He still has yet to see Jimin again.

Jeongguk had been sitting in his bed yesterday, fingers itching to send an airdrop to Jimin, something like a casual ‘what’s up?’, but he never went through with it. He'd feel desperate, clingy - he didn't want to seem that way. He shut his laptop with a sigh, pulling the covers up to his chin before closing his eyes and returning to his utopia - sunsets, lofi, and Jimin.

A new addition to his paradise. Someone he's so uncertain about, someone he barely knows, but yet he feels so sure of.

Jeongguk reaches up to press the button on the wall, hissing quietly as the handles of the paper bag strains against his wrist. Only a few seconds later, the elevator doors slide open - but the small space isn't empty. In the elevator stands Jimin with messy hair, gaze moving from his phone in his hand to look before him where Jeongguk is standing.

"Oh! Jeongguk-ssi," Jimin beams, stepping out of the elevator. 

Jeongguk almost feels relieved to see the bright, joyful, pink-haired boy again - heart skipping a beat at the pleasant surprise. "Hi," He exhales, eyes locking with Jimin's.

“I like your hat,” He laughs, walking by Jeongguk. “Shame it covers your pretty face.”

Jeongguk’s breath is caught in his throat by the unexpected compliment, blood rushing to his cheeks - making him thankful he has the hat on to hide it. He stays quiet, not really certain how he should respond to such words.

"I'd love to speak but I have to hurry back to work." Jimin doesn't stop as he talks, but turns around and walks backwards as he keeps Jeongguk's gaze. "Meet me later? Same time, same place?" He says with a small smile, not caring to wait for an answer before he turns around and exits the building.

Jeongguk stands frozen, eyes stuck by the door where Jimin is now nowhere to be seen. For the few seconds he got to see Jimin again, he's grateful - but he wishes their interaction wasn't so brief, too quick for him to take in the beauty that is Park Jimin.

Jeongguk returns from his pink haze as the elevator doors start sliding shut again, quickly putting a bag in between them to stop the motion before he steps inside. He feels giddy as he waits for the arrival to his own floor, staring blankly in front of him as he repeats Jimin's words in his head.

'Meet me later'.

His heart leaps in his chest, an unwanted smile spreading across his lips as he looks down at the floor in embarrassment - despite being alone in the elevator.

Jimin too, can’t help but smile as he gets into his car. Since he asked Jeongguk to meet him three days ago, since they talked on the rooftop, Jimin often caught himself thinking about the boy - wondering what he’s up to. Even when dancing, he can’t help but let his mind wander, making it difficult to focus on perfecting his moves for the new choreography.

He feels a weird, unusual connection with Jeongguk - one he’s never felt before, not even with his past lovers or any of his friends. It almost feels like they were supposed to meet that night, like it was destined. Like they’re fated to know each other.

Jeongguk finds himself sprawled across the sofa hours later, phone in hand as he repeatedly checks the time - a random k-drama playing on his TV, in which has been given minimal attention since he put it on. He lets out another sigh after looking at his phone, noticing only a little over an hour has passed since he checked it at 4 PM.

Three long hours left until he can see Jimin again.

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. But eventually, the clock strikes 7:50 PM and Jeongguk immediately gets up from the couch, excitement quickly spreading through his body.

Finally.

He finds Jimin the same place he was standing when they met three days ago, now sitting down on a blanket instead of leaning against the railing. He doesn’t hesitate before he starts walking closer this time, causing the older to look his way at the sound of his unusually confident footsteps.

“What’s this?” Jeongguk chuckles, gesturing to the blanket and pillows placed on the concrete.

Jimin smiles, patting the ground next to him for Jeongguk to sit down. “I figured we’d be here for a while and standing up isn’t really that comfortable.”

That’s probably for the best, Jeongguk figures, since he found himself worried Jimin would fall if he laughed too hard when they previously met. He almost wants to laugh at the memory of his doubt in Jimin’s balance.

He’s a dancer for god's sake.

Jeongguk pushes the tickling thought to the back of his head before he nods with a smile, sitting down next to Jimin before looking out over Seoul - a beautiful sunset once again painting the city in orange and pink hues. 

“I missed you,” Jimin suddenly speaks, hand coming up to run soothingly over Jeongguk’s back - giving him shivers running down his spine.

Jeongguk looks at him for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the skyline with a small smile sneaking its way onto his lips. “You did?” He asks, voice quiet as he fiddles with his fingers.

“Yeah, did you miss me as well?” 

You’re all I’ve been thinking about.

Jeongguk only answers with a small nod, head turning slightly to look at Jimin again - cheeks rosy with timidity. Jimin snickers at him before looking out over the city again. 

“Do you wanna listen to music?” Jimin asks, grabbing his phone from his pocket.

Jeongguk feels weirdly cold despite the warm spring evening as Jimin’s hand falls from his back.

“Uh yeah, sure.” 

Jimin holds it for Jeongguk to take. “Put something on.”

“Oh... I’m not sure you’ll like my taste in music,” Jeongguk shakes his head.

Jimin only laughs at his shy behaviour. “Don’t worry so much, Gguk.”

Jeongguk releases a barely audible sigh as he looks at Jimin, taking the phone from his hand hesitantly - feeling butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, the flutters only intensifying as his fingers accidentally brush over Jimin’s, tingles lingering on his fingertips at the touch.

“What do you listen to?” Jeongguk asks while he presses letters on Jimin’s phone, trying to find a playlist that looks good enough.

“I listen to a lot of different music because of work, but I really enjoy ballads with acoustic guitars and stuff - any calming music really.”

Jeongguk nods to show he’s paying attention, fingers stopping their scrolling as he finds a playlist - pressing play before handing the phone back to Jimin.

A soft beat fills the air around them, along with the lively sound of Seoul coming from the streets below them.

“Lofi?” Jimin smiles, placing the phone in between them on the blanket.

Jeongguk nods, eyes following Jimin who lays down on the blanket next to him - head landing on one of the pillows. Jeongguk follows shortly, letting himself fall back to lay beside him.  

“It’s nice~” Jimin sighs in bliss, looking up at the pink sky.

Jeongguk and Jimin talk about everything and anything as the sky darkens and stars come out from hiding. Hours later they're still laying next to each other on the concrete, stargazing into the black abyss.

Jeongguk turns his head to look at Jimin, who is looking up at the celestial bodies above. "So, do you just casually airdrop strangers in your freetime?" He asks with a laugh, referring to a few days ago when he got that first notification.

Jimin chuckles, placing an arm under his head. "No, I was just really bored so I airdropped everyone available."

“I thought I was special,” Jeongguk jokes, acting disappointed as he pouts.

Jimin hits the younger’s shoulder lightly, laughing before looking up at the stars again. “You are, I haven’t met anyone else I sent the pictures to.”

"Why did you ask me to meet you?"

Jimin turns to Jeongguk again at the question, eyes meeting. "You're the only one who replied to me."

With cheeks turning rubescent at the intense gaze Jimin gives, Jeongguk looks up at the sky again as a smile creeps onto his lips. He feels his heart flutter in his chest.

"Jeongguk," Jimin says, trying to get the attention of the boy laying next to him.

"Hm?" Jeongguk hums in response, unaware as he turns his head to look at Jimin once again.

Jimin doesn't say anything else, only admires him. Jeongguk is drawn in by Jimin's stare, not wanting to look away again. He too, admires the other's face. Soft skin, pretty nose.

Pink, plush lips.

Jimin turns to lay on his side, now even closer while simultaneously causing their faces to end up only a few inches apart as they stay looking at each other. Jeongguk keeps still with bated breath as he notices Jimin's gaze fall to look at his lips - making him unconsciously part them as his own gaze falls down to admire Jimin’s, trying to imagine what they would feel like against his own.

Without thinking too much, or giving himself time to change his mind and back out; Jimin leans forward - slowly inching closer. Jeongguk's heart beats fast in his chest but he lets eyes flutter closed as he feels the brush of lips against his own, excitement and tranquility blooming in his chest all at the same time. The touch is feather-light against his lips, but it makes him feel more than he ever has before.

When Jimin finally presses his lips firmly against Jeongguk’s, it makes him exhale deeply through his nose as pink explodes in his chest.

Jimin’s hand comes up to cup Jeongguk’s cheek as he leans in further, deepening the kiss even more - making Jeongguk’s body relax against his touch and lean into it. Jimin lets his tongue swipe over Jeongguk’s bottom lip lightly, prompting them to open before he feels the younger’s tongue against his own. He feels Jeongguk’s breath tickle against his skin as the kiss intensifies.

After a few more seconds of connected lips, blissful exhales, tasting Jeongguk’s cherry lip balm, Jimin pulls away and opens his eyes to look at him. Jeongguk’s eyes stay closed as he licks his bottom lip before biting down on it, still tasting Jimin's lips on his own. Jimin licks his own lips as he watches, aching to feel Jeongguk's pressed against them again.

"Hmm, are you wearing cherry lip balm?" Jimin hums with a voice barely louder than a whisper, a small smile on his lips as he lets his thumb brush over Jeongguk’s bottom lip.

Jeongguk breaks into a bunny smile, hands coming up to cover his eyes as he turns shy at the thought of what just happened. Jimin snickers at his behaviour as he sits up, looking down on his wrist to check the time.

12:08 AM.

"It's late, we should probably-" He's interrupted by a pull of his shirt, causing him to fall back into his previous position.

This time, it's Jeongguk's turn to initiate the kiss - lips pressing against Jimin's again. He surprises himself by the action, but he can't help it - longing to taste Jimin's lips a second time, feel them against his own once more. 

Jeongguk cups Jimin’s face with both hands as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, to feel Jimin even closer. He wants to stay like this forever, he wants to be with Jimin for as long as possible. He never wants to let go.

Their lips meeting holds just as much passion as before but lasts for a few seconds less before they have to part again, both needing to catch a breath because of the intensity of the kiss. Jeongguk chases after Jimin’s lips before letting his fall down on the pillow beneath him in defeat, realizing he needs to regain a steady breath as he feels his chest heave up and down.

Before standing up, Jimin places a haste, light kiss on Jeongguk's nose - making him scrunch it in an adorable manner. Jimin chuckles as he watches Jeongguk open his eyes slowly, an apparent blush laying across his cheeks as he looks up at the older.

Jeongguk's smiles with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he shamelessy admires Jimin, still not moving from his position on the floor. He feels so happy.

Is this what true happiness feels like?

The end of his week turned out much different from what he ever could’ve imagined. Normally, he'd be laying on his sofa by this hour, stuffing his face with ramen while having some anime or k-drama playing on the TV - happy and relieved he’d be getting two days without having to attend any classes.

If at the beginning of this week, someone told him he’d be kissing his neighbour at midnight by the end of it - he'd think of them as crazy. Jeongguk? The timid and introverted Jeongguk? Kissing someone? He himself couldn't see it happening anytime soon. He figured it’d be too hard for him to find a connection like that with someone, considering his shy nature.

But here he is, the inside of his chest painted pink because of his love-struck state, butterflies wild in his stomach - eyes looking up to admire the person standing in front of him.

The stars in the sky seem to shine brighter than ever before. He finds himself feeling euphoric, almost high on the emotion. He feels relaxed and free of any burdens, just like the sunset they'd been watching earlier managed to make him feel.

He never planned for this to happen, he never expected his week to end up this way. But it did, by a single slip of his finger.

Jeongguk met Jimin through serendipity; a happy accident.

Happy accidents.

Oh, how happy he is they exist.

[jujywrites]

Always Falling Down, part I

This was part of a rarepair gift exchange. mricj and I got matched because sometimes u CAN manifest what u want for urself~~~

This is Rosawatts for sure, but also very poly, very id-ficcy and very long (just under 7k....). with a small part 2 pending because WE BUILT THIS SHIP WE SAIL IT HOWEVER WE WANT oh and a playlist (click plz~)

PS: the plotbunny emerged from "i thought you (loved me)" by livj707. One of my top 10 TTM fics and the rest of them are in there too!

AO3

FF.net

or keep reading

(Part II here)

~~~~~

~We hold on to the good times and the right now and the long nights~

Can you hear when I say "I have never felt this way"? (I can't see you and me and her without each other)

Roxie

You were 8 or 9 when you realized that you responded to people’s emotions in an unusual way. Your mom’s anger made you feel like there was a small fire in your belly, no matter the amount or what the anger was directed at. Her joy when hummingbirds visited the garden you both made to attract them made you feel invincible. When she felt sad, everything looked gray.

So what, you thought. She was your mother; of course you’d be attuned to her mood. The same with the rest of your family. But there was a slight wrinkle in that logic— you sensed the emotions of your friends at school, and that affected you similarly, if with less intensity.

Soon after realizing that, though, came the realization that even friends of friends, even complete strangers, had emotional signals that you picked up without trying. You brought this up with one of your dad’s sisters (one of your favorite family members, were you ever pressed to admit it), because you couldn’t quite stomach having your mom worry about you. You were pretty sure what happened to you wasn’t normal.

Your aunt introduced you to the term empath, said her wife had the same ability that you did. She taught you ways to handle the side effects (as she put it), how to channel and control it, to some extent. Even with this, though, things got more complicated as you grew older. People’s emotions got louder.

The maelstrom this caused in you was nigh unbearable and (luckily?) manifested itself as stereotypical moody teenage behavior, when you weren’t wrestling with the attendant physical ailments. That led you to what’s turned out to be a lifelong interest in astronomy and stargazing. Or more accurately, it increased your at-the-time budding interest exponentially. Others’ emotions couldn’t sink their hooks into you, not when your mind was buried in a book or when you were alone outside on a clear warm night. Stargazing served as meditation, too, and slowly you gained a better grasp on this whole empath thing.

That was how you met Neil. He lived in another school district; somehow both of you claimed a little park in town as a prime stargazing spot. He said his gramps took him gazing every summer, and Neil found he wanted to do it more often than that. You didn’t know much about him besides that and some shows and video games he was into, but that was hardly a deterrent to your talking a blue streak in the rare times when both of you were done watching the sky. You talked about your hobbies, how school went, how your little brother was doing, what music you were obsessing over. You told him everything except your biggest secret, and even though he didn’t always acknowledge it all, you could feel he took it all in. He was the first person who had ever done that.

Then he moved away with hardly a goodbye, and that was that. You remember feeling hurt and sad for longer than a day, maybe a week or two, but time has worn away the memories of how you felt. College, of course, was the next big chapter in your life, when your present-day reputation for being bubbly and carefree developed. That had always been with you; college life simply made you turn it up to eleven, a coping mechanism of sorts in navigating the world as an empath.

Strange how the peace you found back then has led you right back to that feelings maelstrom, into the difficulty of parsing what belongs to you and what doesn’t.

You didn’t see Neil until you got to SigCorp, at which point all the moments he was in your periphery during training slapped you across the face, along with hazy childhood memories.

“You’re Roxie, right?”

And all the years without him collapsed together. Maybe you didn’t see much of each other, but your friendship still easily restarted, helped along by your shared sphere of work.

You’d say he’s your best friend, if you were asked.

Meeting Eva was a different kind of slap.

You could count the number of crushes you had on one hand, your relationships on six fingers. You hadn’t felt love yet.

You fell fast and hard for Eva. Then you got back up, and cut that off quicker than breathing, because no way would someone as cool, collected and straight-laced as her would ever be interested in you. (Plus, you had no idea if she was queer and that’s not something to ask someone you just met.)

And then there was Neil.

The two of them had capital-h History, obvious from the moment you saw them together. If anyone knew how much time you spend thinking about your friends’ relationship, the effort you put into trying to push them together, how much time recently you’ve invested in worry (especially over Eva, but Neil too) you’d get therapist recommendations at the very least—

It’s not just wishful thinking. Your empathy gives you a sixth sense as to which people are meant for each other, and/or are dealing with feelings towards each other (which also gave you a leg up in office gossip). And Neil and Eva fit so well; that’s why they were paired together, why you convinced Rob they should be a team, despite how much you liked working with her. Not that he needed convincing. That’s how obvious their compatibility was. And yes, this was despite their bickering (and Neil’s pranks on his partner).

What drew you to Rob, as a colleague and as a person, and helped you decide to permanently partner with him, is how quiet his emotions are. He’s hardly unfeeling, despite what others (like Neil) might say. No, it’s just that his emotions are blissfully subtle. Sometimes when you feel them flare up it’s like a gift.

His emotions toward you aren’t subtle, not these days. And sometimes you feel terrible for relying on him as much as you do. But that’s another thing.

Eva

The cases that go wrong from the beginning are always easier on you than the ones that go wrong when you’re so close to closing them out. Talking to loved ones afterwards is the common denominator, the same intensity of pain no matter what went wrong when. But you’ve grown used to that pain, used to letting it glance off your skin because this is your job, and perfection is impossible.

You thought you had, anyway. The case you failed barely twenty minutes ago, the one from which you’re walking to the car with Neil now, found a chink in your armor. A stupid rookie-level mistake that both of you believed you’d fixed came back to bite you; you almost didn’t log out of the machine before your client flatlined. You owned up to it, the client’s brother took a swing at Neil and tried at you, and the only reason you’re both out of there alive is the brother’s wife calming him down.

There’s still paperwork to finish. You did the bare minimum before getting the hell away from that place. And Neil has one whopper of a black eye that he’s too bullheaded to do anything about, because he had a spare pair of glasses and that makes everything just fine.

In the car, the practically-visible wall between you and Neil is even more unbearable given the post-case mood, and it makes you feel sick. This is far from the first case you’ve failed, with or without him. Hell, it’s not even the first case involving bodily harm directed at either of you. It still feels like the last straw. But you’re not going to quit, you tell yourself. Someone has to keep fighting.

Neil may have stopped trying, but there’s nothing stopping you from fighting enough for you both.

Robert

For the most part, you’re an analytical person. You’re able to compartmentalize your thoughts from your emotions, and often able to see past others' emotions to what might be eliciting them. And that’s why your work at Sigmund fits you so well, why you chose memory traversal over being a tech, as much as machines in general and Sigmund’s in specific interest you.

Your personality and Roxie’s make you an excellent team. Even though her default mode is happy-go-lucky, you’ve been partners long enough to know that she’s the kind of person who can feel everything, all at once, and weather it. That talent must have always been there, under the surface; it’s probably what drew you to her in the first place.

Being able to compartmentalize, however, only gets you so far. You’re hardly immune to base emotions, yours or others’. You get frustrated when you know something is wrong, someone’s having a problem, and that your clear-headed distance from the situation isn’t helping fix it.

Watts and Rosalene, one of your best teams, one of the best you’ve ever seen since you joined Sigmund, have been backsliding for some time. Their ratio of completed cases to failed ones is still good (and they’ve had some brilliant successes), but their previous case was a failure and the mood leading up to their next one is not promising, to say the least. They’ve had innumerable rough patches, no question, but even you can tell there’s a good bit of the personal getting muddled with the professional in this patch. You’re in the unenviable position of having to monitor them, getting closer to explaining to the higher-ups why they are still viable.

Viable. What a cold word. Makes you clammy to think of it in reference to your colleagues. Your almost-friends. It’s... bothersome, to see them fracturing, or whatever less-ominous thing might be happening.

On top of that, there’s something off about Roxie. A dimming of her natural light. The only other time that’s happened is when her brother got sick; he’d been in dire straits before he recovered, and the recovery had been hard.

You know this because Roxie told you. You seem to be good at listening. If only you weren’t abysmal at asking. Not that Watts— Neil— would divulge anything, and Rosalene— Eva— seems even less likely to.

You’d ask Roxie but with her, you’re terrified of not knowing what to say.

Neil

You could’ve decked that guy. Definitely could have. For once it isn’t braggadocio— the things he said about you and Eva made you see red. He telegraphed really badly too, so you could sidestep him (he was like two feet taller than you and you aren’t a total idiot), but taking a swing at Eva?! Good thing the guy’s wife stepped in or things would’ve gotten even more fucked. Because of you and for you.

Of course, with the adrenaline gone, your mutual antisocial...ness, toward each other (what? You can’t word when you’re tired) rushes in to fill the vacuum. It’s frigid out too, which is great. And your face kind of—

“Ah, fuck me,” you mutter as your piece-of-crap company car decides to break down in the middle of an empty road.

Eva sighs epically. Her breath clouds. “Shit.”

Ha, she legit swore.

Your momentary amusement is bulldozed by the inconvenient need to talk. The second you’re alone alone with her, in lulls before or after cases, in downtime at the office, the words bubble up in your throat, more insistent every time. And every time you try to open your mouth, they disappear. It’s been like this for weeks, ever since The Incident.

She found the not-from-Sigmund company letter. She found the (other) pills. Unlocked door or not, you haven’t forgiven her for the breach of privacy. She hasn’t forgiven you for keeping (those kinds of) secrets from her. And here you are now.

You don’t know how much more you can take.

Eva speaks before you can get your voice working. “I’m calling Roxie.”

“How?” Flipping open your phone, you glare at it. “No reception out here.”

“We passed a payphone on the way here. Shouldn’t be more than a 5 minute walk.”

You just gape at her while she bundles up in her scarf and hood. “It’s minus fifty!”

Her eyes meet yours for half a second. “Don’t exaggerate, Neil. Not tonight.”

And, predictably useless, you watch her get out of the car and start walking, snowflakes shining around her in the dimming headlights.

Roxie

One of the things about being an empath is, it’s easier to tell when someone’s romantically interested in you. (Too bad there’s no one-night-stand-interest sensor.) That feeling has a certain color to it, distinguishing it from friendship or dislike. And it’s the reason why you haven’t dated much. Every time you’ve felt it, it’s been like a flipped switch, a lightning bolt, leaving you unprepared and uncomfortable every time. Sometimes it’s been because you don’t return their feelings, sometimes because you need a few days to adjust to the idea. Even with one of the ones you liked back (a post-college roommate, because you may be an empath but that doesn’t exempt you from so-called clichés), it petered out eventually when you didn’t fit together anymore.

With Rob, it’s different. So subtle you don’t realize right away. And so soft it’s easy to lean into and pretend you don’t quite know how he feels, keep your already intimate friendship separate from that other kind of intimacy.

You like him. Want to like him as more than a friend, the way he likes you. If you could only let go of your ridiculous double crush.

There’s only so much room a heart should have, anyway.

Eva

The incongruity of using payphones hits whenever you have to use one, which thankfully is extremely rare. You’ve learned the hard way to keep a small stash of quarters within easy reach on cases, whether they’re located in the boonies or not. Even with gloves on, your hands are so cold that there’s a lot of fumbling involved in getting them into the machine, more fumbling while you pull up Roxie’s contact info on your phone. Not that you need to; you’ve got it memorized. She’s picked you up more than once.

It hits you square between the eyes this time, so you can’t ignore it: Roxie’s been like emotional glue, from back when you were a greenhorn changing partners every couple of weeks to now. She was the constant for you back then, and then became your tech specialist for a hefty amount of cases until you got paired with Neil. She’s patched things up several times when you wanted to strangle him, by talking you down, or being a mediator, or just listening to you rant. And since tonight is turning into one giant negative thought spiral, you get stuck on how much emotional support you’ve taken from her without giving anything back, alike or different. After this, well, you have to come up with something. A restaurant gift card? Ice cream from that new place down the road from yours? Why is food the only thing you can think of? True, food has meaning, but you sh—

“Hello?”

“Roxie. It’s me. Eva.”

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” you say on automatic. Nope, she’s probably—

“Nah, binging a few Shadow Junction episodes before hitting the hay,” she replies with a giggle.

Over this line, the brief silence is crackly. “I need a favor. Our car died on us…”

“Oh my god wait, you just finished a case!” There’s some scuffling and a small thump; when she speaks again her voice is closer. She must have taken you off speaker. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up ASAP.”

You give her a handful of landmarks, the compass direction. With the dark, the gathering snow, your barely-held-back exhaustion, you're starting to think you might be back in the simulation.

Your hands hurt. At least they still have feeling.

“There’s a storm coming, isn't there? Are you okay?”

“Tired. Cold. But, yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Eva?” Hearing your name wakes you up a little; the weight in Roxie’s tone wakes you up more. “I’ll call a tow for you on the way, but do me a favor and don’t hang up.”

“Sure,” you whisper.

She chatters about the latest plot developments on Shadow Junction for a few minutes; you feel like you're absorbing some of the energy in her voice. Then she says, “I’m getting on the highway now,” and then she says, slightly more subdued, “Do you want to tell me about your case?”

Nope. “It went badly, that’s all.”

More crackly silence. Then: “I know I’m repeating myself, Eva, but… are you okay?”

I’m fine.

I’ll be fine when I’m back home.

I’m used to this. It’s fine.

You say, “I think I’m losing Neil.”

The metal of the phone booth bites into your hand even through the glove. “I… found some things I shouldn’t have.” Roxie can keep secrets, contrary to her reputation. This one shouldn’t be her burden, and so you don’t share what you found. “He’s been conflicted about what we do for a while. I think he might be trying to leave Sigmund. And that’s his prerogative, but I just—”

You trained together, joined Sigmund together, starting planning to join Sigmund together. It’s been an enormous part of both your lives, and now you’ve been a team almost as long as your dream to be a part of this company existed. If Neil walks away, what will you have left?

Roxie. Robert. The McMillans. Eddie, Lisa, Logan. You won’t be alone, and you still have your purpose to guide you. But...

You were so certain you’d see that purpose through with Neil at your side, you don’t see how it would possibly be the same. How you could be the same. Sure puts a dent in your faith that you’re your own person.

You can’t simply ask him to stay. Some small irrational part of your brain thinks bringing up the subject at all will make it come to pass. And those pills. If he does leave, if Sigmund is part of his will too, what if—

You wipe at your wet cheeks and nose. “He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

Your voice doesn’t sound nearly as broken as you feel.

Robert

It’s another night of Roxie on your couch, eating takeout from your favorite place and watching a movie together. Neither of you have defined your relationship. You’re fine with that, and you think she is too. And yet...

“Roxanne, I—” You love her, have for a long time now. But you’ve seen how she looks at Eva, and at Neil, and you know she doesn’t have room for you right now, don’t know if she ever will.

You had a chance. You realized your feelings for her well before she fell in love with them (or at least before she began to show signs). The obstacles were too many: she’s half your age, you work together but are sort-of kind-of boss and subordinate. All true. All excuses, too, because you weren’t brave (stupid) enough to take that chance.

But she’s come to you for comfort, and you aren’t an asshole; you won’t deny her that because she has a different measure of your relationship. You love her. You would care for her even without that.

Then she kisses you, and she says, “I’m sorry,” and curls up against you.

Roxie

You’re making a mistake, and you don’t care.

You needed that kiss. It soothed these pangs, this hollowness that’s grown over the past few weeks from whatever is going on between Eva and Neil. And the way Rob’s emotions have started to swirl feels dangerous. Addictive. You want more of that, the power to make his emotions dance with one touch.

It’s getting harder to ignore the voice calling you an awful person.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest. “I know, in every rule book ever made, that I’m leading you on. But I’m not trying to! I’m so sorry. I…” You swallow, sudden clarity hurting your throat. “I think I want to be with you. But, Neil and Eva…”

Saying their names brings fog back over you, reddened by wine. “I can’t explain it,” you whisper, arms around his shoulders. “I can’t... decide.”

You can’t give Rob what he deserves, what you finally know you want to give him, if you can’t make your mind up.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Despite the uncertainty you can practically taste, it feels like a promise. He holds you tighter, and you let yourself sink into him.

Neil

You’re tired, exhausted, and that makes your brain go all overdramatic, but even with that you’re pretty sure this is the shittiest night of your life. You can’t talk to Eva, and she won’t talk to you, and now you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere trying not to freeze to death, watching her freeze to death while she waits for Roxie to rescue both of you from freezing to death. The least you could do is stand by Eva and suffer with her. Then again, maybe she’d rather turn into an Evasicle in peace right now.

You resent how much this case haunts you. You resent even more your inability to walk away from Sigmund and from Eva. They wouldn’t care, but she (probably) would. Does. You wish that didn’t matter so much to you. It shouldn’t anymore, after what she did. The one time you don’t lock your office door. Like a goddamn house of cards. If she’d told you right after instead of sitting on it for a few days, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with her…

You’re such a hypocrite, with all the secrets you’ve kept and keep.

Everything feels gray. Heavy. Tunnel vision, maybe, from the cold and your lack of sleep. Stepping out into the wind chill would probably help you stay awake at this point, except you’re not so far gone as to actually follow through on that.

Eva’s left the phone booth and is standing in the snow, hood blown off from the wind, and she’s too bullheaded to pull it back up. You stare at her hair streaming out, your eyes grow blurry from snowflakes, and your thoughts drift back to distant nights spent with a talkative girl who shared your love of stars.

Roxie

You’re up late at home, watching the Shadow Junction episodes in your queue, when Eva calls you, voice tinny over a payphone. You can’t sense emotions tangibly without being in person, but her and Neil’s voices have a similar effect on you regardless, by now.

You talk with her until you’re on the road.

Something’s wrong besides their dead car, and Eva reveals the tip of the iceberg. You’re relieved. Your instinct hasn’t yet devolved into paranoia.

“He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

The turnoff to where they are is coming up. “I can’t imagine how that must feel,” you say into your head mic. A white (gray?) lie. Her pain is making it hard for you to breathe. “But I’m getting you back to the office, and we’ll go from there. One step at a time. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You call the tow place as soon as you end her call. After that, things blur together until your car meets theirs.

The snow hasn’t stuck; it’s the light, fluffy kind that would be nice in another time and place. You can see Eva and Neil hunkered down in their seats.

You can’t get out of your car fast enough.

Eva’s first to get out once you reach them. She hugs you, and, yeah, you could probably die happy now. You’re such a mess.

“Thank god for you, Rox. Seriously.”

You’re such a mess. Neil’s relief nearly makes your knees crumple with its warmth, but there are... layers to it. Those layers and the ever-present knot of worry in your stomach keep you alert. Besides, it’s not (won’t ever be) the time or place to let them know everything you’re feeling. So you smile past your shivers and wave off his comment. “No problem. Of course I’ll bail you guys out of this weather!” Then you force your offer of a ride back out of lungs tightened with the fear that they’ll know what lies behind it. “Brought you some cider. Blankets too. To thaw you out for the paperwork, y’know.”

They accept. Of course they do; they don’t have a choice. If either of them suspect anything they aren’t showing it and dear god you are so overthinking this. “Tow truck should be here any minute, if you don’t mind waiting a bit longer.”

“You have heat in your car. That’s all I care about,” says Neil, and Eva says, “A few minutes more doesn’t matter.”

Then she puts her hand on his elbow as they walk the short way to your car, and all your stupid mushy probably-touch-starved brain can think is, there’s hope.

They settle in the back instead of splitting up over the passenger seat, and dumb hope unfurls further in your chest. You waste no time in unfolding blankets and handing them each a thermos. Eva acknowledges with a grateful smile, and you pretend not to notice how Neil flinches when you drape the blanket over him. You ignore the flashing burn when your hands meet their bodies, ignore how fast your heart is beating.

You have a plan, even though it’s a selfish one.

Eva

Roxie still believes her bright shiny mask is impenetrable, but you know her better than she thinks you do; something is worrying her. A lot. And here she is, practically saving both of your lives, and trying to hide it so you don’t feel any worse—

You’re faced with the sudden urge to kiss her.

She’s been a shoulder to lean on, a friend, a good friend. Why did this feeling burst through now? Did the weight of what you and Neil failed to do, the weight of what you know and what he’s not telling you, crack and cause this shift?

(What would she think if you tried?)

You push the urge away, but feel it beaming through when you take your first sip of cider.

Maybe in another life.

Robert

Roxie’s on the verge of breaking, and you can’t do one thing to help.

She stands by you, thermos in hand, while she waits for Eva and Neil to tie up some legalities and gather what they need. At this hour, the offices are silent to the point of suffocation. Having these three around is reminiscent of oxygen. Even so:

"I was really scared, you know?" she says, smiling, eyes painfully bright. "All I knew was I had to get them. So I did. They’ve been dealing with something tough and I couldn't ask them even though I wanted to and they were nearly hypothermic, Rob!" The noise that comes out of her is a shrill mockery of laughter. "So after they're done here, we're going back to my place. All of us. I don't want them to sleep alone. I'll hogtie Neil if I have to, I swear to god.”

There’s nothing you can say, so you just nod. And then you realize: there is something you can do.

You want Roxie to yourself, of course; most one-sided relationships are likely that selfish. You want her to be happy even more than that. So you excuse yourself to the bathroom, and then double back to the offices and poke through Eva’s ajar door, knocking on the jamb.

They’re both in there, which makes it easier for you. Neil’s already got a file folder stuffed with papers in his arms (which he nearly drops upon seeing you). You also notice the overnight bag next to him, and that Eva’s looking over hers.

(Of course. The weekend’s coming up. You should get your bag too.) That’ll make it easier for Roxie.

You’re also worried about them, so this isn’t only for Roxie’s sake. Eva looks like a shell of herself, and Neil’s posture seems to indicate he’s in pain.

“What’s up, Bob?” Neil plops the file folder into his bag. “We taking too long or something?”

You shake your head. “Take the time you need. I heard from Roxie tonight’s case didn't end well, so I thought I should check in.”

“We’re as all right as we can be,” Eva says, zipping up her bag. “And anyway, we’re done here.”

She stops when you don’t move from the doorway.

“She’s really worried about you two. I don’t know any details, but… go easy on her. She means well even when she’s overbearing.”

You turn and head back to the lobby, feeling overheated.

Neil

Roxie seems like a supernova in the frozen night (and if you weren’t half-frozen you'd be slapping yourself for your dumb metaphorical thoughts), and that light is enough, combined with Eva’s presence, to propel you into Roxie’s car.

You flinch because, somehow, her brief touch feels like it unlocks all your secrets. Ridiculous, because Eva got there first and you really hardly know Roxie.

The paperwork is second nature. You and Eva go to your respective offices; you squint as if that’ll make your handwriting look any less blurry (okay, guess your glasses need cleaning); at the last second you grab your overnight bag, and instead of heading back to the lobby you gravitate to Eva’s office and stand there like a dumbass while she finishes up.

You thump your bag on the floor. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says without turning around.

You busy yourself with organizing your papers. But every so often you glance at her, and when you see she’s going through her overnight bag the urge to ask if she wants to stay at your place, or if you can stay at hers, is overpowering. Don’t ask, don’t— “Do you—”

There’s a knock, and of all people Rob’s standing there, as if tonight isn’t freaky enough. Still. Saved by the Bobert bell.

What he says, along with the sheer incongruity of his presence, knocks you out of your numbness for a few minutes. “Jeez,” you say once he leaves as fast as he came by, “he’s really got it bad for her, doesn’t he?”

A barely-heard whisper in your mind hisses, You should know.

She’s wearing an indecipherable expression. “I suppose so.”

It all makes slightly more sense when you get back to the lobby. Before you or Eva can open your mouths, Roxie’s talking.

“It’s been a really bad night for you two. I’ve been there, you don’t have to tell me anything, and... I won’t ask. But I’ve got a spare room and a couch at my place and you should take advantage of that for the night. I’ve already convinced Rob, and I won’t bother any of you, a-a-and I really think it’s for the best so, so please…”

As exposed as you’re feeling, you can see the appeal of staying at her place. It’s closer than yours, and yeah, okay, your brain cannot handle the logistics of dropping off and heading home. Besides, it’s pretty uncomfortable how upset she seems (even if it’s just about her sinking ship, har), and if this makes her feel better, well. You don’t know what’s going on, feel like you haven’t for hours, but you’re with people you know and who know you, even though they don’t know everything. There’s something to be said for having friends in the same line of work.

This rift between you and Eva hurts far more than you can admit to yourself, never mind anyone else. And even though Roxanne and Rob have no idea what’s happened, happening, between you two, them being with you feels like a bulwark holding back any further damage.

Maybe they might even help fix what’s broken.

Roxie could, maybesomehowsomeway. She seems like that kind of person, the kind who wants to fix people’s issues and is good at it, though who the hell knows where you got that impression. She’s standing closer, an arm’s length— a fact you only realize when she reaches up and takes off your glasses.

Roxie

You didn’t notice how close you’d gotten to Neil and Eva while you were talking, or that you’d been moving at all, until a shadow near Neil’s eyebrow catches your attention. At that instant, your accidental proximity doesn’t matter. Your heart stops for a split second. “Neil, your eye!”

“What about my—”

You remove his glasses. Eva gasps, like it’s A Bad Thing you just did (and okay, you can’t remember ever seeing his eyes before), and you can even sense Rob standing protectively close behind you. “Holy schnikes, Neil!” His right eye is nearly swollen shut, the bruise radiating nearly to his temple on that side and nearly across his nose on the other. “What happened?”

A tidal wave of guilt from Eva makes the room wobble, but Rob catches you.

“Sorry, more tired than I thought,” you say to their combined are you okays. Your nervous smile lands on Rob, who doesn’t look convinced. Still, he helps you upright silently.

Neil squints at you with his good eye. “What do you mean ‘what happened?’”

How can he not know? “It’s totally black??” You look from Neil to Eva and back, panic surfacing slowly. “It’s barely open??? Doesn’t it hurt?????”

Eva sighs, pulls a hand mirror from her bag, and holds it in front of him.

A pause.

“Huh,” he finally says. “Guess that explains why it’s a little harder to see.”

“Our client’s brother punched him.” Eva rubs at the bridge of her nose.

“He did not—”

“He said he was fine, but I thought he was just shrugging it off. I didn’t know he didn’t know! Don’t you remember your glasses broke?”

“He was huge! I dodged him easy! I…” Neil digs through his pockets indignantly for a few moments, then stops. “I don’t have my spare pair. Which… means that those…”

“Are your spare pair,” you finish gently, handing them back to him. “Neil, I think you might have a concussion.”

“Well, shit,” he says, at the same time Eva says, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“That settles it.” You step back a couple paces, reluctantly. “You’re definitely coming back with me. I have ice and I have some bruise cream that’s pure magic, I swear.”

Neil huffs. “I already said I would.”

“You only thought it because I didn’t hear you.” You eke out a grin. “I’m not a mind-reader, you know!”

“Okay, well, this is my official yes let’s crash at your pad agreement.”

“Heard and acknowledged!”

Putting her bag over her shoulder, Eva says, “Then let’s go,” and leads the way to the elevators.

She and Neil take the backseat again, leaving Rob to sit in the passenger seat. Now that you’ve executed your plan, you seem to have lost whatever energy you had left.

The silence that falls, though, feels comforting instead of stifling.

~~~

The first step through your front door pulls a deep sigh out of you. Rob, Eva, and Neil’s various flavors of tension decrease slightly.

“I’m just gonna… stop for a minute.” So saying, Neil plops onto the floor in front of your stupid-huge couch.

“Sit wherever you like,” you say as you go to the kitchen for an ice pack.

You’re glad you turned the room into something slightly more presentable, even when you weren’t expecting three people to come by— cleaned up junky desserts from the coffee table, put pillows back, et cetera. You wrap a hand towel around the ice pack and bring it back to Neil, telling him to use light pressure. “I’ll go get the supplies.”

As soon as you flick on your bathroom light and see yourself in the mirror, your throat tightens with the need to cry. A few gasping sobs come out of you but, “Okay okay okay,” you whimper, clutching the sink rim, they’re here, you got them, you’ve made them safe now. “Get it together. Snap the hell out of it. You’ve got a job to do.”

You gather everything you think you need and then go back over it: disposable gloves, the arnica bruise cream, antiseptic wipes, washcloth, cup of warm water, 8-hour painkiller/swelling reducer. Then you splash off and dry your face, finagle all of it into your arms, and get back out there.

Neil’s made it onto your couch, probably because Eva’s sitting there now. She’s on his left. There’s space for you between them.

You’re friends. Colleagues. You’ve all been through highs and lows working at Sigmund, in parallel with each other. They can’t read your mind.

You unload your supplies onto the coffee table and take the seat.

Eva lets out a breath.

“Sorry for grabbing your glasses,” you say to Neil as you put on the gloves.

“Eh. Extenuating circumstances.” He shrugs. Takes them off. “‘Kay, do your worst.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can. First, these.” You hold up the wipe pack. “Your skin’s not broken so it shouldn’t sting, but I’ll make sure any excess is gone anyway. Oh—” You grab the pain pills. “Take these first, actually. I can get you water.”

“I have my own… water,” he mumbles, digging through his bag and retrieving a bottle. “Thanks.”

Once he’s taken the pills, you run the wipe all around the bruise, holding your breath while you dab at his closed eye. “Don’t move.” You wet the washcloth then and apply that, making sure no residue stays to get into his eye. That would suck.

“Okay, move if you need to. Magic cream’s the last thing!” You hold it up with a flourish. “Never had to use it on something this, uh,” you fumble for the word, “extensive, but I promise it’ll help.”

“Who died and made you Florence Nightingale?” he said with a chuckle.

You pause in the middle of daubing cream on your finger. “Who?”

“It’s an old reference. Really old. Like, my gramps knew the history, that’s how old.”

“Early 20th century nurse, I believe,” Rob says in a musing tone. “Founded the profession.”

“You’re almost as old as him, so you don’t count.”

“She opened the first nursing school, too,” says Eva.

“And you’re a nerd so you also don’t count.”

“She sounds pretty cool,” you say quietly; you’re close to Neil’s face again, applying the cream from the outside of the bruise in. “Glad someone’s remembering her, still.”

You don’t even notice the silence fall, you’re concentrating so hard.

Neil holds his breath this time when you put the tiniest amount of cream on and around his eyelids, using the barest pressure to rub it in and still wincing in his place.

You’re very close to him. Your hand tingles. Whatever’s charging the atmosphere is impossible to analyze.

“Um. All done.” You pull your hand away, look away, throw the glove into the little trash can under the table.

“Rox?”

You look back at him and try to breathe evenly.

“Just… thanks. For all this. And…” He leans forward to catch Eva’s gaze. “...sorry I got my head bashed in and forgot about it.”

“We should get that checked out tomorrow.” Her voice is worn, but her eyes are soft.

Your worry changes form in that instant, from low-key constancy in your veins to the choking kind of worry that comes from realizing you love them, are in love with them, your best friends who are in love with each other and either don’t know or can’t admit it. They certainly don’t have the room to accept your feelings.

You’ve known this for long enough; it’s hardly a revelation. But something about tonight has crystallized your feelings, made them impossible to bury. Now you know the origin of the physical ache that’s been dogging you for weeks, to the point of becoming a second skin, and you desperately wish you could do anything to ease Neil and Eva’s pain as much for yourself as for them. You just squeeze Neil’s hand, pretend Eva taking yours doesn’t stop your heart, and stare at Robert who graciously doesn’t stare back.

You nod, because you don’t trust your voice. But then you speak anyway. “We’re a team. Mismatched as we may be. We gotta stick together, you know?”

Looking at them both, you see Eva smile, and even Neil has a tiny flash of one when he says, “The four musketeers, or something?”

“Close enough.” Robert, soft, as he eases onto the couch next to Eva.

“No, exactly. One for all, and…” You swallow, looking at Neil, wishing so hard for Eva’s sake. “And all for one.”

Your hands left Eva’s and Neil’s to settle on the couch minutes ago, but now, almost synchronized, their hands cover yours again.

Every ounce of tension rushes out of you, in spite of the fact that your brain is in red alert mode, your heart’s beating fast enough it hurts, and heat’s flashing through you from head to toe.

Maybe one day you’ll tell Neil and Eva everything you feel. Maybe one day you’ll share your biggest secret with all three of them. But for now, all that matters is that you’re all together, safe for tonight, warm and dry. All that matters is the others’ emotions are blending into a shared, soft calm, that you’re almost, just about, being held by them. All that matters is that you all have each other.

For once in a long while, your mind is quiet.

[oatsn-honey]

coughing fits, thick blankets, and mario kart

for @cafeaulate_ on instagram!! 

masterlist

ao3

summary: "Kageyama, Shouyou is really sick."When Hinata gets sick on a day off, Kageyama somehow winds up being tasked with caring for him. He has one thing to say -- that boy is a new kind of stubborn. And he's kinda cute. Okay so maybe two things.

notes: this is for my bestie uwu!! for years she tried to get me into haikyuu and i just would not budge!! i wish i had listened to her sooner, because i love these boys sm i swear. i started watching it when i rlly needed a creative pick up, and it came in at the most perfect time-i hope u enjoy!

Kageyama dragged a hand down his face, sighing exasperatedly as he glared at the defiant highschooler in front of him. Why did I think this would be a good idea, again? He groaned before trying again, “Hinata, please, you’ve got to eat something.” Despite his insistence, the redhead would just not listen to reason, turning away from him in his mountain of blankets upon the couch.

“Oh, Kageyama, what a sweet boy you are!” Hinata’s mother, a darling woman, had told him earlier that day, thanking him profusely, little Natsu bouncing in her arms. It was Friday, but a holiday, and she still had to work, and Natsu was still expected at daycare. Normally, something so trivial as leaving your teenage son at home wouldn’t be a worrisome thought, but Shouyou was terribly, horribly sick.

Kageyama couldn’t necessarily blame her for worrying about her child, especially considering how he was. “You can expect me back by 7:30! I left my number on a slip of paper on the countertop -- call me for anything, Kageyama.” Was it too late to call her and say that she chose the wrong person? That he was just as troublesome, just as difficult, as her son? Probably, he reasoned.

Breathing deeply, practicing what Sugawara had taught him for when he got riled up during a game, Kageyama approached the small bundle on the couch, speaking gentler than earlier, “Hinata, would you please try and eat something? Your mom made you some soup and she put me in charge of making sure you get something to eat.” Big brown eyes, bloodshot and clouded with fever, turned to look up at him as he hovered over the sofa. Jackpot. Kageyama got lucky -- using Hinata’s mother had been a rewarding play.

So, obviously, it had taken some coaxing, but now Hinata was seated in a dinner chair in the kitchen, that obnoxiously thick blanket that he had been clinging to all day wrapped around his small shoulders. Humming softly to himself (something that makes him feel oddly and uncomfortably domestic), Kageyama warmed some of the soup over the stove before ladeling it into two adorable bowls, decorated with small cat characters that reminded the setter of ‘Natsu’s’ bento.

“Eat up,” Kageyama declared, setting the bowl in front of the shivering Hinata, who honestly looked like death had warmed over him. He had sunken so far down into his chair that his head had nearly disappeared underneath the table. “Eat,” Kageyama insisted, sitting down with an aggressive huff.

“‘M not hung’y though,” Hinata argued weakly, his congestion making him sound strange and closer to Natsu’s age than a highschooler.

The taller boy’s eyes narrowed. “You have to eat -- ‘else you won’t heal and then won’t get to play volleyball.” Kageyama had struck a soft spot (knowingly, of course), and Hinata stared down at the murky broth, face blanched, as he took his spoon into a quivering hand.

After several agonizing minutes, Hinata had eaten a satisfactory meal -- as Kageyama deemed fit -- which amounted to a measly 8 spoonfuls. The decoy’s face had taken on a greenish tint, and perspiration spotted his forward, where his brows were pressed closed together. Patting the smaller teen’s head, Kageyama took the bowl away and began swiftly washing the dishes.

Eventually, they found their way back to the couch. Kageyama settled at one end, Hinata curling up at the other, resuming his huddled position amongst a fort of blankets. The TV played softly, Kageyama watching whatever was on mindlessly while Hinata dozed off, snoring softly, his breaths rattling in his chest.

Not too much longer after that, Kageyama was startled from his daze by a small, pained groan. He looked over at Hinata sleepily, who was clutching at his head, rubbing at his temples. “You good?” The raven-haired boy prodded quietly, tapping at Hinata’s leg gently.

“‘S my head,” He whined between bated breaths, each one catching in his inflamed lungs.

“Come here,” Kageyama beckoned, leaning forward to help Hinata sit up. The redhead flashed him a sceptical look, somewhere between curious, pained, concerned -- constipated, that’s what the expression was. (At least to Kageyama.) The taller boy guided his partner back down, his head coming to rest on Kageyama’s lap. He unfurled the blanket over the sick boy’s quivering body, smiling gently as he snuggled up to the welcomed warmth. Tenderally, he began carding his long fingers through those monstrous tufts of hair, the strands poking out in all directions -- an untamed beast, but unbelievably soft nonetheless. His hair, despite its fiery tenacity to be unruly, was like clouds along Kageyama’s hands.

Hinata hummed in contentment, pushing back against Kageyama’s fingers. However, after several minutes of a gentle, lulling peace, the ministrations had begun losing their effect, and Hinata was flinching at the pounding headache reintroducing itself, his brows furrowing once again. His body grew tenser, and his small hands, fingers wrapped in bandages, clutched at the blankets. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Kageyama stiffened, his voice urgent and oddly panicked.

“Still hurts,” Hinata breathed, jaw quivering just slightly, eyes clenched shut. Fleeting fingers met his temples and began to rub small, familiar circles. The calluses on Kageyama’s fingers, well earned after years of rigorous training and dedication, were peculiarly soothing as they ran over the soft skin of Hinata’s face. Thankfully, after a short while, the small boy finally relaxed enough for sleep to once again invade his senses. His unsteady breathing abated Kageyama’s worry, and eventually he too was able to relax into Hinata’s warmth.

A persistent, but feeble, poking at his jawline is what brings Kageyama back from his tranquil snooze. Before he has time to crack his eyelids open, anxiety is causing his stomach to sink and his mind is racing. Oh god, what’s wrong- Then he feels that reassuring weight settled atop his legs, and his heart rate slows and the panic is dissipating. “Yama?” The small, croaky voice is what allows him to finally breathe.

“Yeah, Hinata?” He peeked open his sapphire eyes and blinked down at the boy staring expectantly up at him. “What’s up?” He lifted his long arms above his head, stretching. He considers himself fortunate that Hinata doesn’t comment on the small squeak that escapes him.

“I’m bored -- will you play Mario Kart with me?” Kageyama knew that Hinata could be random, but he surely wasn’t expecting… that question. “Pleaseeee,” Hinata drawled, making to sit up, only for a small coughing fit to erupt and rack his body, leaving him clutching at his chest.

“Woah, woah,” Now fully awake, Kageyama surged forward, bracing Hinata’s shoulders. After the bout had subsided Hinata shook off Kageyama’s hands, desperately attempting to cooly catch his breath. “Hey now-,” The setter was interrupted by a pair of pleading eyes, staring sweetly up at him. For a moment, Kageyama was beyond confused, but realized what Hinata wanted. “Sure, I’d love to play.”

So, the esteemed first-year genius of Karasuno found himself playing Mario Kart on Hinata’s Wii, the unmanageable decoy still curled into his side for warmth, doing his best to sound menacing whenever he hurled (very, extremely weak) insults at Kageyama, even though his voice broke in a million places and continuously gave out. Already, 4 rounds of Grand Prix had passed, and the countdown for the last race of their 5th had just begun. “I’ll beat you for sure, Kageyama!” Hinata declared, straightening his back just a touch.

Each and every race, Kageyama had come in the top three. And Hinata had always come in dead last, all but once.

“Sure you will, Shorty.”

The race, taking place on the infamous and formidable Rainbow Road, finished with unsurprising results: Kageyama in 1st (naturally), and Hinata in 12th place. “Hmph, that’s what I thought,” The winner puffed, turning towards Hinata as the award ceremony played on screen.

That’s when he saw it: Hinata staring blankly at the TV, Wii remote limp in his hands, his cherry nose twitching upwards, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Hinata?!” Kageyama exclaimed, dropping his remote in shock. Hinata twisted to look at him, a teardrop clinging to the tips of his light lashes.

He spoke weakly, “You’re so mean, Bakageyama. You’re always better than me,” He sniveled, his face scrunched up. Suddenly, a small cry passed his lips, and a storm of fat tears were rolling down his face.

Placing his head in his hands, eyes blown wide and astonished, profanities flew rampant through Kageyama’s mind. “Hinata, I’m sorry,” He tried after calming his thoughts, but the smaller boy simply cried harder, passing off his apology -- it was a miracle he even made one, for heaven’s sake! After briefly pressing his eyes, Kageyama snatched the remote and shut off the obnoxious TV. He gave it another shot, “Hey, listen, if I had known that it was this important, I wouldn't have been so--” He bit his lip, using no restraint, when he accepted that Hinata wasn’t going to pay attention. He heaved a great sigh. “What can I do to make it better?”

Caramel eyes, glimmering with tears, peaked up through messy bangs. “Mean it?”

With a steadying breath, Kageyama answered in kind, “I mean it.”

“Can I get a hug? And go to bed?” Hinata appealed sheepishly, tucking the majority of his flushed (from fever, Kageyama supposed) face underneath the blanket.

Easy enough, Kageyama supposed as he opened his arms wide, expectantly. Chewing on the inside of his lip, face pressed and tight, Hinata shuffled forward and into his embrace. He exhaled shakily, clumsily, thankfully relaxing into Kageyama’s chest. The majority of his weight was released as his body lost all energy, and he smiled softly, the tears drying swiftly upon his pale, ever-so-slightly freckled cheeks.

It came to Kageyama with no surprise when Hinata began drifting off in his arms. Poking the decoy’s arm, Kageyama muttered, “To bed now?”

Still wrapped safely in the thick blanket, Kageyama guided Hinata throughout the house, hand gently (but firmly lest he stumble) on his teammate’s back. A slow journey later, they reached Hinata’s bedroom and the sick teenager was easily persuaded into bed, where Kageyama tenderly pulled the covers up to his chin. After a small cough, Hinata was long gone, snoring softly in that way that Kageyama once found tiresome, but now endeared him to his partner.

“You’re such a mess.” Kageyama came to murmur softly, warmly, brushing away the residual tears upon Hinata’s cheeks with caring fingertips. “Sweet dreams, sleepy head. Get well soon,” He whispered affectionately, closing the door to the boy who had miraculously wormed his way into Kageyama’s fortified heart.

i'm sorry if it's ooc, but i just finished the second season, so i may not have the most accurate grasps on their characters,, aha also obv hinata is more ooc than anything but! if u happened to read the tags, colds can actually activate that part of ur brain that makes u sad and depressed, and so it can cause mood swings! so that's where that bit of drama comes from- this idea came from when i was playing mario kart today and i started tearing up because i was losing lol (i have a pretty nasty cold rn,,,)

anywhosit! i hope u enjoyed reading and that it wasn't too painfully ooc! (i'm kinda worried my friend won't like it ahhh) pls comment if u want to share what u thought!

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 22 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

All things considered, it wasn’t quite how Kristoff had envisioned spending the anniversary of the day she’d told him she wanted him to be her boyfriend and he’d said “okay”. A full year; he couldn’t stop marveling at it, at how much at changed and yet how quickly the time had flown, how much love he could fit into three hundred and sixty-five days and yet still feel a sudden flash of surprise when she leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

He was trying to focus on that rather than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. Or touch him, or even look at him.

chapter 22: different kinds of grenades

“Are you going to stay here forever?”

Warm, familiar lips pressed against the sliver of her temple that poked out from the top of the blanket pile. “That’s the plan.”

“Hmm. Okay. Guess there’s worse places to spend the rest of my life,” Anna heard him say, and then the mattress dipped beneath the weight of him as he settled behind her, curving against her back as best he could with a knot of blankets in the way. “Then again, it’s June in California and you’re bundled up for a snowstorm. I can’t imagine this ending well.”

“Go away,” she mumbled, turning to bury her face in the mattress as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment, then she felt the mattress shift again as he sat up. “Do you mean that?”

She didn’t, but she couldn’t bear to look at him right now. “Yes.”

He kissed the top of her head before getting back off the bed and shutting the door behind him without another word.

---

All things considered, it wasn’t quite how Kristoff had envisioned spending the anniversary of the day she’d told him she wanted him to be her boyfriend and he’d said “okay”. A full year; he couldn’t stop marveling at it, at how much at changed and yet how quickly the time had flown, how much love he could fit into three hundred and sixty-five days and yet still feel a sudden flash of surprise when she leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

He was trying to focus on that rather than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. Or touch him, or even look at him. He had at least caught a glimpse of her as she shuffled into the bathroom, still engulfed in a blanket, but he hadn’t dared to speak and she hadn’t spared him even a glance before going back to the bedroom. 

It’d had been a full four months, he realized suddenly, since they had had a real argument. And they had agreed then to talk things out with each other, to be honest, and he’d been working on not keeping things locked inside, and she’d been working on taking better care of herself, because in five more months it wouldn’t just be themselves they were responsible for anymore.

But none of that was the problem this time. He knew exactly what was bothering her, and she knew what was bothering him, and she had been honest with not only him but the entire world, and somehow that had gotten them into the greatest mess they’d encountered yet, and he didn’t have the slightest idea how to help get back out of it.

It was stupid, really, how much power the internet had. He was more grateful than ever that he’d never bothered with social media accounts apart from the Twitter Anna had helped him make. Well-- that, and now the Instagram account he’d made after trying and failing to understand exactly what Sam had explained to him on the phone.

It had made a lot more sense when he had seen it himself. The picture Hans had posted of Anna in Moscow, looking back at the photographer with a surprised smile, her eyes bright and her hair fluttering in the wind. And the caption, just a stupid broken heart emoji, that apparently was meaningful enough for the photo to have ten thousand comments and counting. He had only scrolled through them for a minute before feeling too nauseated to keep reading. There were only so many times he could take reading “what a whore” and “omg was she cheating?” and “do u think she even knows who the father is?”

His phone buzzed on the sofa next to him with a text from Sven. How’s she holding up?

Kristoff sighed and glanced back at the closed door before typing out a response. Not looking good over here.

.

Damn. I’m still checking Twitter, by the way. I think the response tweet helped. #WhoIsKristoff is number three now

.

Is #AnnaArendelleIsOverParty still number one

.

Do you want to know the answer to that?

.

I mean, you just basically answered it. 

Before another response could come through, he heard a creak and glanced up to see Anna peering out at him, red-faced and sniffly. “Can I come sit with you?” she asked timidly. 

“You don’t even have to ask, baby,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

She chose instead to straddle his lap, still holding the blanket over her shoulders as she tucked her face against his neck. “Happy anniversary, Kris,” he heard her mumble as a fresh wave of tears began to soak into the collar of his t-shirt.

He took hold of the blanket, tucking it in around her before hugging her around the waist. “It’s okay. We can celebrate another time.”

“I’m really sorry I let this make me forget.”

“You’ve already apologized to me a million times the last two days, and none of it has been your fault. Including that.”

“But you remembered.”

Kristoff sighed. “I’m really not mad at you.”

“It would be easier if you were.”

“Why?”

He felt her shrug. “You’re just...just so good to me. Even though every time I try and do something for you I end up making your life miserable.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“Like I showed up in your life and kissed you and then ran away. And then I came back and asked you to try again, and then I left for six weeks. And-- and then I said I loved you, and then I got cast in that fucking movie, which is the reason Hans even knows I exist, and then I was gone so much and made you feel like shit, so then I came back early and forgot my pill like a fucking idiot and got knocked up and everyone thinks it’s his. And then, like, the one thing you asked was that you didn’t have to go public, but now because of that we have to and I tried, Kris, I really did, and I had no idea Hans would find a way to turn it into this.”

His heart was pounding by the time she finished; there was a heat rising in him, enough that he could feel his cheeks flushing. He was angry, now, at Hans and the world and, if he was being honest, a little bit at her. “I-- how can you still think that about yourself, Anna? That you just make me miserable?”

“Because I do, Kris, like this morning I was such a bitch to you and--”

“Stop, okay? Don’t-- don’t try and tell me how I should feel about this. About any of it.”

“Sorry,” she whispered again, and for a moment he closed his eyes as tight as he could, drawing in a deep breath before he dropped a kiss against the top of her head.

“All I’ve ever wanted is you, Anna,” he said quietly. “You, and now the baby. Our baby. And I never, ever thought that I could be this….happy, I guess, but that’s not the right word for it. I know it feels like shit keeps hitting the fan, like, constantly, but we have so many good days in between, baby, and even when you’re gone or we’ve argued or now with this, I’m just...I don’t know.”

She had turned her face where it rested against his shoulder, and if he craned his neck he could meet her teary-eyed gaze. “I know things look really bad right now for your career,” he said, knowing there was no point in sugarcoating it. “And that the media is going to be brutal. But I’m still here, and I still love you. And that’s all I’ve got to offer, but I hope it’s enough.”

“You’re always enough, Kris,” she said, sliding one hand up to rest just over his heart. “But I’m worried that one day I won’t be. That just loving me won’t be able to make up for the rest of the other shit.”

He covered his hand with her own, and despite himself, he smiled a little when he felt the diamond in her engagement ring press against his palm. “You’re always enough, too,” he said, and she gave him a little smile in return. “And we’re going to figure this out together, just like everything else.”

She nodded, closing her eyes again as she nestled closer against his chest. “Thank you. It’s just that I, like...like I know you’re going to say stuff like that to me, and that you mean it, but sometimes I just...I don’t know. I know it, but I can’t believe it.”

His phone buzzed then, and she pulled away to grab it and hand it to him before settling against him again. He peered at the screen; another message from Sven-- and suddenly an idea was blooming in his mind.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his neck and pressing a soft kiss there.

“How do you feel about getting out of the house for a little while?” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to face the whole world yet, even with you there.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mean going out in public, just...somewhere you like. That I think would cheer you up.”

He waited, holding his breath, and then he felt her nod against his neck. “Okay,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I trust you.”

---

Despite having stayed in bed all day, she hadn’t really slept much, and she’d spent most of the night before lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling, worried and angry and just plain scared thoughts flipping through her mind like the clacking wheel of a rigged carnival game where the only prize was something new to stress over. But now, sitting in the reclined passenger seat of Kristoff’s car while his hand curled comfortingly over her knee, she was finally able to doze off, feeling a sense of peace at last creeping in to cover the sense of unease that had been running rampant through her ever since Lena had sent her a frantic text only an hour after her article had been published and two minutes after Hans’s post had gone up. It hadn’t even been thirty-six hours, but it felt like a lifetime somehow, separating whoever she was now from the girl who had thought that somehow telling the truth would set the whole world to rights in one go. 

She was woken by Kristoff gently squeezing her leg. “Wake up, baby,” he said, and when she did she saw him smiling softly at the way she had fallen asleep, one hand over his and the other pressed against the barely-there swell of her stomach, the one that only the two of them had been able to notice so far.

“Where are we?” she asked through a yawn, and he laughed.

“Look out the window. And let me know if you want me to carry you upstairs for old times’ sake.”

She followed his directions, a gasp escaping her almost immediately. “Oh my god! Nothing’s changed here, has it?”

He laughed and squeezed her hand. “I think that’s a new dumpster, maybe.”

“Is it weird to say I miss this parking lot?”

“Nah. Lots of good memories,” he said, coming around the car to open the door for her.

She grinned and took his proffered hand, tightening her fingers around his as they made their way up to his old apartment building, failing to contain her giggles when she saw that the elevator was down again. “Does he know we’re coming?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s really excited, seriously. He just sent me a bunch of emojis and a gif of one of the Kardashians.”

“I knew he’d get tired of the quiet before long,” Anna said triumphantly as she raised a hand to knock on the door. “And that you’d learn how to say Kardashian one of these days.”

The door flew open so quickly she knew Sven had to have been waiting. A huge smile was on his face as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, Anna. Good to see you. How’s my godson?”

“Goddaughter,” Kristoff said, pretending to be irritated, and Anna laughed. “I’ll be right back. Chinese food good with both of you?”

Anna glanced back over her shoulder, not quite ready to let go of Sven just yet. “What do you mean? We can just order in.”

He shifted uncomfortably from side to side. “And then the delivery person would see you, and us, and…”

Her face fell as she let go of Sven and turned to face Kristoff properly. “Oh.”

“I’ll be back fast, though. I promise. Kick ass at Mario Kart for me while I’m gone, yeah?” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I will,” Sven said, though the cheeriness in his voice sounded a little more forced this time.

When the door closed behind Kristoff, there was a beat of uncomfortable silence as Anna turned back to face Sven, unsure where to begin. To her relief, he took the lead. “How are you? For real, don’t bullshit me and tell me it’s all fine.” 

She sighed. “Can we talk while we play a game or something? It’s easier when I don’t have to like, look at your eyes and see you being all sympathetic and nice to me.”

“Sure. Mario Party 8? I’m never nice to you during that.”

“Can we play like...something with guns? What’s that game all the kids play?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You want me to teach you how to play Fortnite?”

“If it means blowing shit up, then yes. Teach me all about it, Svensei.”

“That’s still my least favorite nickname you’ve come up with,” he said drily, crossing to the fridge. “Go ahead and sit down. You want a beer or-- oh, right. Duh. I’ve got chocolate milk? And water, obviously.”

“Water, please. Chocolate is the only thing that still makes me sick.”

He gasped dramatically as he pulled down two cups. “No shit? That’s fucked up, man.”

“I know, right? That’s probably why Kristoff is freaking out about cheering me up, he can’t just get me a giant bag of M&Ms any more.”

Sven sat beside her and passed her a glass of water. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his cup against hers.

“You can have a beer if you want, you know.”

He shrugged. “Solidarity. Gotta start early so that when he starts throwing a tantrum for a toy or something he knows you and me are a united front. It’s Bjorgman we gotta worry about. You and me both know he’s a soft touch.”

Anna set her cup down so she could turn to face him, sitting cross-legged on the sofa they had ended up buying for him after all. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

“‘Course he will. It’s you we’re worried about.”

“But like...I knew what I was signing up for when I decided to be an actress. He just kind of got dragged along for the ride. And he took it really hard when people first started all the rumors about me and Ha--”

“He-who-must-not-be-named. Continue.”

“Okay, him. And anyway, now he’s so worried about me he’s not taking time to worry about himself, you know? And I was kind of a bitch to him this morning for no reason, and then like a dumbass I didn’t realize it was our anniversary til way later.”

“Let me guess,” Sven said, leaning back against the cushions and giving her a knowing glance. “Before an argument even started, one of you-- or both of you-- got started apologizing. And then you started snuggling and said a bunch of cheesy shit and worked it out.”

In spite of her reddening face, Anna couldn’t help but smile. “Are we that predictable?”

“You forget I put up with listening to this shit for like six months. The walls are thin in this apartment. I’m pretty sure I heard ‘love you back, baby’ more times than I heard the headboard banging against the wall. Which, just saying, was a lot of times.”

“...sorry.”

“A little late for that now, eh?” he said with a playful wink.

“But be serious with me, please, I-- I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but you’re just...I don’t know. You’re good at knowing what to say when neither of us do.”

“I am, aren’t I?” he said with a laugh before rearranging his face into a more serious expression. “I mean, it’s not going to be easy on either of you, is it? Going public was going to be rough anyway, but like...is there anything you can do? To prove that Hans is full of shit and you guys never dated?”

She shook her head. “We were so focused on being private for so long we don’t even like, take pictures on our own together. There’s no proof, not even with like, the deed to the house. I’m the only one on it.”

“Shit. Well...I don’t know. Sometimes stuff like this blows over, sometimes it doesn’t. You just gotta wait it out and see, I guess.”

Anna sighed. “That’s not making me feel better.”

“Why not? I mean...you’ve got, what, a week left filming this sequel?”

“Yeah.”

“And after that, what’s on the schedule?”

“Nothing. Just doctor’s appointments as far as the eye can see. And wedding planning if we can ever pick a date.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” Sven said, reaching out to tug on the end of her braid. “You’re so worried about what random people think on Twitter you’re forgetting to be happy about getting married and having a baby.”

She blinked at that and took a long sip of water to cover her surprise. Sven grinned at her, knowing he’d managed once more to know just what to say. “See there,” he said, pleased with himself, “that’s why you picked me. I’m gonna give this kid so much godfatherly advice.”

“In my defense,” she said, “my whole job is kind of based on what randoms on Twitter think.”

“Your job is based on being a good actress. Which you are. Nobody’s going to give a shit about this after the movie comes out.”

“What if they do?”

He sighed dramatically. “Shit, Anna, then I guess you’re stuck with a husband and a kid and a house and a million dollars and the world’s best best friend.”

She perked up at that. “Am I your best friend?”

“Well. Tied with Kris, of course, I can’t completely betray him. I’m just saying, he hasn’t asked me to be his best man yet, and I always did want to be a maid of honor…”

Anna laughed and leaned over the sofa to give him a hug around the neck. “Thanks, Sven,” she said softly. “I feel better, and I didn’t even shoot a cartoon gun yet.”

He patted her affectionately on the back. “You’ll feel even better when I tell you about all the different kinds of grenades.”

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 14 + 15]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] [Chapter 13] 

Peace, family! 

Heads up: these chapters are somewhat long. Winston finally gets some attention! As always, thank you for the reads, likes, comments, messages and positive energy. Definitely wrapping this thing on up soon and that damn Yahya story too lol. 

Peace and love! 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hey, Ciara. It’s Winston…

She knows who you are already…

Hey, Ciara! Thinking about our car ride the other night, just wanted to …

Sounds like you’re asking her out again…

Hey, Ci! 

Ci?! 

Hey! Made a playlist of those songs we talked about the other night. Wanted to share. Praying for you during this midterm season. 

Of course I’ll say I’m praying for her. That’s safe. 

All Winston knows since his divorce is playing it safe. 

Married at 24, he didn’t know much of anything else. Freshly married, Winston was on his way to finishing his Masters and thinking about his Doctorate. His wife was on her way to medical school with the goal of becoming a research pathologist. In fact, they pathed their entire lives. Degrees by 27. One child by 30, another by 32 and a move to the West Coast. They both wanted the sun that avoided them since birth. 

But in the midst of following the game plan, they forgot about their true dreams. Medical school was the dream of her parents; she wanted to study music and dramatic arts, having done a play or two in college. He wanted to travel around the world as a missionary. They both felt tied down by the dreams of other people. They wanted off the path they created for themselves. 

So they went rogue. She quit medical school and enrolled at Tisch School of the Arts. He started applying to missions and was accepted to travel to East Africa, to learn from the Ethopian Orthodox community. They were happy, their dreams were no longer deferred but as Winston planned his trip, he wanted his wife to join alongside him. Why do this alone? But that would stop her dream and with both of them unable to compromise, Winston left her to go fulfill what he felt was the mission of his life. 

Skype and texts could only do so much. She fell in love with a fellow student. He started an emotional affair with another missionary. Winston was warned of such a thing before he left, thinking he’d never fall for that type. When he found himself upset that his missionary “friend” didn’t text him “good morning”, he knew himself to be caught up. 

But when Winston returned home, he killed his affair. She hadn’t. He saw the Facebook messages, found some of her distraction’s clothes inside of their house. A condom in the trash can. He was done. 

He blamed himself for pushing an agenda to be free, to break from the plan they had for themselves. He quit missionary work and enrolled back into NYU to finish his Masters. She, however,  continued in the arts program and right next to her lover. She wouldn’t concede. Her dream was worth it. So Winston thought the marriage wasn’t worth it and he filed for divorce. 

Since then, he’s dated but failed, always attracted to women who would fit inside of this perfect picture of his life. Medical students, PhD students; he tried to find someone that could replace his ex-wife. But then he had fears of his future wife  living out her dreams only to find something -- and someone --- better. He felt disposable, like once she would find something new and better, she’d leave. 

Ciara fits the narrative with her dreams of a Doctorate and her determination to change the world. However there is something about her dreams of finding the freedom in her faith, for pushing individuality, for being her despite the culture’s insistence that her freebird self was the problem that attracted him to her even more. She thinks about shaking the tables. She isn’t about straight and narrow, she is about doing what her heart feels is right. And she found peace in her heart within her studies, something Winston wish he felt. 

And her hips swayed like the ocean when she walked, which Winston felt crash into his body every time he caught a glimpse of her walking throughout campus. Ciara stoked this lustful fire inside of Winston that he hadn’t felt in years. At first he believed all of his feelings to be wrong, writing Matthew 15:19 inside of his journal when some nights were rougher than others. 

Winston saved all of his cursing for when Ciara left his car, letting out moan-laced expletives as he watched her walk up the steps into her apartment building. He wanted her in all the right and wrong ways, readjusting himself in the driver’s seat to allow some room for the growth he couldn’t control. 

But after a cold shower and his bedtime devotional, his nerves -- and body parts -- calmed down. He gave himself some grace and prayed that night to not let those emotions motivate his actions. He’s seen many of his friends use the opportunity for sex as a reason to act like “good guys.”

Y’lan’s story was warning enough. 

But to Winston, she’s unattainable. When he heard Y’lan say that he dated Ciara, he figured himself to be out of the game. Guys like Y’lan are cool and of the culture. They don’t look like church boys. They have one foot in the church and one in the streets. Winston was, in all ways, a nerd. A Bible-reading, Jesus-loving nerd. Ciara doesn’t go for those, he thought.

Sitting in U City Coffee, awaiting Y’lan’s arrival, Ciara doesn’t know what to think anymore. Her ice coffee dilutes as she ignores her caffeinated pick me up by scrolling through Trevante’s instagram to see if she can find “Meganne The Intern”. Ever since that night, Ciara can’t help but think that Trevante is continuing to sex another woman into a mess just like her. 

Puzzle pieces start to come together in her mind: no wonder Tre held out for so long, becoming super affectionate and protective once they started having sex. She always knew deep-down that Trevante wouldn’t be able to handle her celibacy. Naivete increases thinking that a man who couldn’t keep his apartment empty if his life depended on it would be able to do such a thing for little ol’ her.

“Hey, Ciara. Sorry I’m late.” Ciara breaks her search to look up at Y’lan almost out of breath in her sight. 

“Hey! It’s okay. You breathing hard like you ran here.”

“Yeah, my bad. Just played a quick pick up game with some kids. They damn near ran me off the court. I lost track of time.” Y’lan’s body ripples under his grey Nike sweatsuit. He’s not dressed for a meeting and Ciara’s growing sexual angst does not care one bit. 

As Ciara walks up to the counter to buy a bottle of water for Y’lan, Y’lan works through his plot to confront Ciara about Trevante. Y’lan’s anger seethed from his pores listening to Trevante talk about Ciara as his future, as a woman that he’d want to settle down with. There is nothing settling about Trevante, Y’lan realizes. Having seen Tre at his worst at bars and hangouts, he knows him to be far from ready. Ciara would be up against the worst of them with Trevante. Y’lan doesn’t want her to get hurt. Again. 

Ciara comes back with her aqueous libation for Y’lan. Sitting down in front of her laptop, she looks down to see a message from Winston. Her curiosity overflows until Y’lan breaks her concentration with a question. 

“Before we get to this, can I ask you a question?”

Ciara knows exactly what’s about to happen. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She knew this day was coming. Ciara stops mid-sip, her chest growing hotter by the millisecond. Dreading what’s about to happen, she feels the mercy in Y’lan asking about it first.

“What’s up, Y’lan?”

“So what’s up with you and Trevante?”

Ciara becomes unnerved at the lightweight aggressive way Y’lan asks his question. Y’lan didn’t enter the conversation gracefully and Ciara can tell that he has no plans on letting up. She adjusts her body in her chair, tilting her head to the left as her eyes squint toward Y’lan, trying to make sense of his tone. 

“We’ve been kicking it for a minute. What’s good?” Ciara matches his energy and Y’lan feels the shift. 

“Hey, I’m not trying to hem you up. I’m sorry if I came off that way. I just went to go see him a few days ago and he told me about y’all, that’s all.” 

Ciara wonders if Y’lan told Trevante about their past. She suddenly feels every pipe within her burst. “Word? Cool.”

Ciara’s pretend nonchalance bothers Y’lan. Maybe she doesn’t care that Y’lan cares. Maybe Trevante found out in between then and now so her inaction to gain a reaction is valid. He decides to go for round two. He needs to know for sure. 

“Does he know about us?”

“No disrespect, Y’lan, but you should be the last person to be checking me about what I do.”

Y’lan nods his head to fight the anger growing inside of him. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, Ci. I promise you. I just … you do know that’s my friend, right? When we linked up to talk about it, it didn’t seem like he knew. And I didn’t want to be the one to tell him because, real talk, that ain’t my job.”

“I agree with you.” Maybe Ciara is done putting up a fight, he thinks. “I’ll tell him.” 

“Bet, cool. Like I said, I ain’t mean to make it this big. I just...”

“Does it bother you, Y’lan?” 

Y’lan’s mind claims that he’s protecting Ciara from inevitable heartbreak. Y’lan heart knows that he wishes he and Ciara could try once more to get it right. As the battle rages on between his heart and mind,  Ciara’s pettiness rages inside of her body. Whatever emotions she possesses about her past with Y’lan are ready to be unleashed. She’s waiting for Y’lan to say just the right words. 

“That y’all are together? Nah, not really.”

“You sure? Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you, Ci.”

“I mean, you did lie to my fucking face for a smooth year so I don’t know…”

Y’lan walked himself right into that response. He braces for the rest of what Ciara has coming his way. 

“Yo, Ci. Don’t do that. I told you…”

“Told me what? You didn’t tell me anything. I found out after the fact that you didn’t want me. You showed me, you couldn’t tell me.”

“How can you say that I didn’t want you?”

“You left!” Ciara’s tears puddle inside of  her eyes as she tries to hold back the scream that undercurrents her words. She exhales, closing her laptop with swift aggression. Y’lan’s body sinks into his chair, his mind taking a few more seconds to ponder what to say next. 

“I know I can never really earn your trust after that, I know. I’m sorry. You met the worse iteration of me. I’m now a better person.”

“You know, I hate that shit. Why did I have to be a casualty of your growth as a person? I didn’t sign up to be a “lesson learned”, Y’lan. I wanted to be yours.” 

“Do you still want to be?”

Ciara and Y’lan both pause at the question that escapes Y’lan’s lips before it could be stopped. 

“Y’lan, I can’t… I’m not doing this with you.” Ciara shoves her laptop into her bag. Shuffling to find her keys, she looks down at her phone to see a text from Trevante. 

Can I see you tonight before you leave for your trip? 

Y’lan has his answer. 

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

[petalsbloomed-a]

VERY LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY !! RULES.  repost ,   don’t  reblog  !    tag  10  ! good  luck  ! TAGGED.  stolen !!! TAGGING. anyone who wants to do this tbh cuz this is long as shit and i dont want anyone to do this who might not be able to aljdhfskjdhkj

BASICS. FULL  NAME : galo thymos NICKNAME : himbo, idiot, rookie, newbie, #1 firefighting idiot AGE : 21 BIRTHDAY : june 30 ETHNIC  GROUP : japanese (+ korean / western european) NATIONALITY : american LANGUAGE / S : english / japanese / studied french and spanish SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : demisexual ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : biromantic RELATIONSHIP  STATUS : single HOME  TOWN / AREA : promeopolis (i envision this being around nyc / tri-state area) CURRENT  HOME : lives with older sister and niece PROFESSION : firefighter, undergraduate student

PHYSICAL. SKIN : pretty fair tan, but he sometimes appears a little darker than usual. his skin does a strange thing where it changes shade in different lighting. his skin is usually smooth, but right after getting finished with work, he sometimes is covered in dust and appears somewhat dried out. EYES : slightly upturned, deep-set, wide and somewhat of an almond shape. irises are usually very round, and are a bluish-cyan color. pupils often alight with mischief. in intense lighting, you can see a little red dot reflecting off his eyes. LIPS : pretty thin and nude, hard to notice. matches his skin tone very well. usually quite smooth. tends to get chapped after working. COMPLEXION : pretty fair, but in different lighting, he can look a lot tanner than what he really is. BLEMISHES : he has a few moles here and there, but overall his skin is fairly clear and clean. he doesn’t suffer from acne nearly as much as he did when he was in grade school. SCARS : he has some tiny, barely noticeable acne scars on his face, chin, and neck. the most noticeable ones are on his left arm from when he was practically set alight by a burnish flame. these are thick and quote coarse, and can cause some discomfort when touched. he also has a very small nick in his left ear, which was how his sister identified him when he found her after being separated from their family after the burnish incident when he was a kid. TATTOOS : an arrow that goes right below the nape of his neck to the middle of his back. the point is at about the small of his back, and there are a few decorations along the arrow. HEIGHT : 6′0, 183 cm WEIGHT : 165 lbs, ~75 kg BUILD : very muscular, quite athletic. very beefy arms, strong chest, well-built abdominals. however, his thighs and waist are pretty thin and trim. FEATURES : his most distinct features are his dramatic haircut and scars on his left arm, as well as the small white line on the outer helix of his left ear. his chest and shoulders are also quite broad in comparison to his rather thin waist. ALLERGIES : slight peanut allergy, dust, pollen. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE : undercut with a dramatic, spiky blue mohawk. USUAL  FACE  LOOK : mischievous smile or smirk; sometimes looks a bit wistful, like he’s thinking about something. USUAL  CLOTHING : is normally shirtless, wearing thick red firefighter pants with a yellow “3.” most often wears black rubber boots, black gloves, ear lobe piercings, and an industrial piercing. sometimes wears a black tee-shirt.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : spiders, bugs, needles, being in love (kind of), losing his sister or niece, finding out his parents are dead. ASPIRATION / S : to continue his firefighting career, to receive a masters in emergency medical technology / fire prevention & safety technology. POSITIVE  TRAITS : brave, caring, friendly, modest. NEGATIVE  TRAITS : daring, reckless, sensitive, over-attachment. MBTI : entertainer (ESFP-A) ZODIAC : cancer TEMPEREMENT : choleric / sanguine SOUL  TYPE / S : performer ANIMALS : zebra VICE  HABIT / S : twiddling thumbs, jiggling leg (usually the right), twirling & playing with hair, biting nails, chewing lips, swearing, sighing, pen clicking. FAITH : none; would consider himself agnostic. GHOSTS ? : yes. AFTERLIFE ? : not sure. REINCARNATION ? : not sure, but leaning towards no. ALIENS ? : yes. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT : independent, opinions slightly more left-leaning EDUCATION  LEVEL : graduate student

FAMILY. FATHER : nikanor thymos MOTHER : agape thymos SIBLINGS : danai thymos (older sister) EXTENDED  FAMILY : james (ex-brother-in-law), aria (niece) NAME  MEANING / S : his first name is of an unknown meaning, but it could mean “from gaul” in greek. his last name comes from the greek word “thumos”, which means “spiritedness” or “the need of recognition.” HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : not that we know of, i think ???

FAVORITES. BOOK : harry potter / hunger games MOVIE : the lion king 5  SONGS : rick astley - never gonna give you up, lady gaga - born this way, beyonce - countdown, ariana grande - god is a woman, pitbull - timber (feat. kesha) DEITY : zeus HOLIDAY : christmas MONTH : july SEASON : summer PLACE : his bedroom / the lounge at work WEATHER : partly cloudy SOUND : meditation sounds SCENT / S : coffee, flowers, fresh baked desserts, fresh pizza, light cologne TASTE / S : coffee, vanilla cake, milk chocolate, parmesan cheese, green tea anything tbh FEEL / S : soft blankets, comfy pillows, loose-fitting clothes ANIMAL / S : dogs NUMBER : 13 COLORS : teal blue / flame red

EXTRA. TALENTS : piano, singing, writing, linguistics, thinking quickly, firefighting BAD  AT : drawing (sort of), getting himself organized, following orders (sometimes) TURN  ONS : kindness, sensitivity, acceptance, openness, agreeableness TURN  OFFS : irresponsibility, lack of free time, ignorance HOBBIES : piano, singing, writing (stories, poems, etc), karate TROPES : ambiguously gay, antiquated linguistics, broken tears, calling your attacks, the chosen one, firemen are hot, going commando, hunk, idiot hero, innocently insensitive, large ham, mr. fanservice, oblivious to love, the protagonist, rookie red ranger, scars are forever, shonen hair, you gotta have blue hair (found here, there’s a lot more actually) QUOTES : “medals are made to be awarded to and from people who deserve them.” / “you can’t just kill for no reason!” / “[i’m] the universe’s #1 firefighting idiot!”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ? A1 : honestly??? i think i would keep it the way it is, BUT i would like to have seen some more canonical information about galo’s family. as of right now, we know that kray saved him after his family was attacked by the burnish. if i were to direct a new movie about galo, i would focus it mainly on his family. Q2 : what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ? A2 : i think it would be a mix of melancholic music as well as more upbeat stuff. on my blog’s main page there are links in the sidebar to both a soundtrack playlist as well as a pop music playlist; i definitely think it’s fair that a variety of genres would suit him and his experiences. Q3 : why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ? A3 : when i first watched promare, i was instantly drawn to this buffoon himbo. i’ve always had a thing for upbeat, energetic characters who are also quite caring and a bit dumb (which yes galo is very smart but he has his moments). while their personalities differ greatly (despite having the same personality type), he reminds me a lot of lance from vld, who i absolutely adore as well (and i also rp him too oops) Q4 : what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ? A4 : again, probably his personality. while i’m not as energetic and upbeat as galo and i have a very, very different personality type than him, i feel like i definitely do understand him. i understand why he feels he needs to be overly confident, and i also have my moments where i just need to storm off and be alone. god i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about why i like galo but i wanna keep it short and sweet and just stick with those two points, which i consider to be the biggest points. Q5 : describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse. A5 : look, i know i said i liked confidence, but something about galo that annoys me is the fact that he can often seem too confident. like yeah he seemed pretty humble in that pizza scene at the beginning of the movie, but i can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance towards people who put themselves right into the center of attention and be all like “yeah i know i’m great.” like my boy i love you but do u have to announce urself every time u appear on the scene??? and pls stop being so reckless u honestly might die too soon one of these days we want u to be around for us to enjoy u Q6 : what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ? A6 : i definitely feel like we both have our moments where we just need some peace and quiet. of course, everyone needs this, but when galo talked about running off when he was pissed reminded me of me; i tend to go and cool off and vent to myself if i’m annoyed about something. we’re both naturally people-oriented and love to be around others, even though galo likes being the center of attention a little bit more than myself. Q7 : how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ? A7 : in the sense that if galo were real, i honestly think we would get along fairly well. we have different ways of dealing with things, but we have similar habits and personality traits. however when it comes to rp blogs, while i do like to headcanon things about my muses that mirror my own opinions and beliefs, i do consider the mun/muse relationship fairly symbiotic. we as real people can learn so much from fictional characters and in how we play them, and of course, the mun will determine some things about the muse that will deter from canon. Q8 : what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ? A8 : i just started this blog and have had very minimal interactions, so it’s hard to say ! i’d say that an interaction with a kray muse would be the most interesting. part of me wants galo to forgive kray and to have a better relationship with him post-movie canon, but there’s still so much about galo and kray’s relationship pre-movie as well; what was their relationship like? was kray like a father to galo? how can i describe the psychological mindset that galo had after finding out that kray betrayed him? there’s so much about these two that i really want to discover and look at, while of course providing my own insight (cuz that’s what muns do, right?). Q9 : what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ? A9 : i like to study galo’s actions in the movie, and try to find the underlying cause of the actions he takes. however, when it comes to headcanons, i will often think of a scene or an idea in my head and then internally apply it to galo and see if it works. this is usually what kindles my writing fire: the thoughts that often rush through my head. Q10 : how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ? A10 : like two whole days lmao im so slow

[01010010-posts]

I need headcanons about your human rk900 pronto. He sounds delightful!

i have a lot of asks to reply to but i couldn’t sleep today because i was already answering to this in my head THANK U to give me this opportunity to talk about my bitch™we’ll break him down point by point slowly:he’s the youngest of the trio, born probably after a year or two. he’s a little prince. connor&60 are twins, yes, they experienced some ‘childish rivarly’ but never jealousy. they’re the same. maybe without RK900′s birth they would have hated each other in some weird and difficult way but he’s here, so they form a coalition against this ‘change’ (more connor than 60, he’s the mischievous one when little). connor&60 relationship gets kinda morbid. they tease him a lot because they’re older and because he has all the attention. nothing new in babye’s behaviour, just something that will go away when they all grow up. except it doesn’t. and really it’s not their fault, most of the time kids aren’t inherently evil but adults are. well, if you want to call amanda ‘evil’. because she’s not inherently evil either– she’s just herself. which is a kind of bad self towards connor&60&RK900 but i think, i guess, i hope, she never meant harm to them. anyway. she adopts them at some point. (are their parents dead? is she their aunt? distant relative?) 5 for the twins and 3 / 4 for RK900 would make sense. it’s a trauma of course. connor&60 lash out at any given time, they don’t want to be there. they’re moody, connor is somewhat violent with others, 60 cries a lot. RK900 is…. nothing. at 3 you haven’t even properly started to be a person yet. you’re aware of yourself in the moment but that doesn’t count, since usually ‘memory’ and ‘the awareness of self’ are kinda the same, and at 3 there’s very few things you remember in retrospective. especially at 4, for some reason, it’s difficult to remember when you were 4. (for the records infantile amnesia & false memories are v interesting things!). tho that depends on person and on events (deaths should be well carved in your brain, even at a chemical level). and were RK900 to remember these fragments it is said that the emotional attachment would be very low. (see?? im studying for my kids exam!!! im that bitch!!).amanda cares for them, though her ‘idea’ of caring never includes emotional support. which should never lack to anyone, less to three kids without their parents. she tries to raise them to her best (amanda as a ‘mother’ is a nice comparison to her game’s role imo, there too she acts as someone who watches over connor) but kinda takes connor&60 for ‘lost causes’ pretty soon. they remember their parents, she will never be a replacement for them. they know. she knows. RK900 doesn’t know. he can’t. never got to know them enough. they don’t know. she knows. she focuses much more on RK900, shaping him right from the start into what she thinks is one should be. he doesn’t mind, amanda’s all he gets to call ‘mother’. he feels that he’s doing something wrong, his brothers make him understand that. they don’t want to play with him, don’t want to talk with him, they ignore him. connor blames him for everything as a scapegoat, he says caustic things to him. ‘look at your eyes.’ ‘i don’t have a brother, i don’t know you.’ ‘you’re probably someone else’s and i hate you.’ 60 does too until he realizes that RK900 doesn’t deserve this. he concludes that, were they to hate someone, it should be amanda. but never says so. they grow up. there’s lots of negative feelings. connor hates amanda and RK900, hardly stands 60. 60 would like to adapt and learn to love everyone in this ‘family’ but it’s impossible in this environment. RK900 has self-esteem and guilt problems, he obeys whatever amanda says because he knows no better and gains the only name connor will call him for a long time ‘pet’. amanda is: a rather complicated character here. she’s somewhat neutral, she doesn’t hate connor nor 60 nor RK900, her actions are never dictated by resentment, despite these children were basically dumped in front of her home. but then again she’s not guided by love either. i think her only fault was not picking a side (sloth?). but then again this is not a ‘fault’ at the 100%. can’t force someone to love someone they don’t, especially in such situation. which is why, in some way, even when openly against her, connor&60 still seek her approval. probably, if she recognized their efforts without betting everything on RK900 and comparing him to them they would have been more at peace.during their high-school/college years connor decides to cut off ties. he’s going to be free. leaving everything behind. 60 is torn. he can be with amanda and RK900, accepting his never-ending future of being second. or he can be what he’s always been, connor’s shadow. but at least connor lets him do what he wants. one night connor has a bad argument with amanda (no, she never raises her voice, but he sure does) and storms off into his room. (they have 3 rooms but 60 can’t really sleep when alone so he’s almost always in connor’s, begging him to sleep together, that he will be invisible, that he will put his pillow at the end of the bed and be quiet and rest in the opposite position as connor. connor is lowkey annoyed but he has nightmares often (which get worse after cole) and 60 is a nice presence so he just says ‘you’re a hopeless gay AND if you touch my dick i’ll kill you’) 60 goes to him to talk but sees that he’s putting clean clothes in a bag. 60′s able to convince him to not be so stupid but connor warns him ‘as soon as a i can i’ll leave this place and you’ll have to decide, either you’re with me or you’re with them’. 60 knows he’s not joking. and the day connor’s ready to go away and start college he follows him. they live together for some time. connor has always wanted to be a detective (a child’s dream, pure). he puts everything he’s got. he’s good. 60 is lost. finds himself in clubs and with ‘bad’ people. he earns some easy money. he thinks he can live a carefree life forever. he starts to bring weird guests to his and connor’s apartment. smokes pot few times. connor is slowly back on being a person without problems (in his mind, since amanda&RK900 were the problems) so he doesn’t want to put up with his twin’s antics. he kinda kicks him out. 60 gets a little worse. more lost. gets a place with two sex workers (a drag and a prostitute). they take care of him in some ways. he understands that this is not how he should behave. he attempts to be better. he’s still lost. he realizes how his life has always been ‘connor is selfish but he’s good, so i will protect him’ and how little he knows of himself. he has…. been erasing himself more and more in connor’s favor. he has subconciously been the wall between his rage and amanda’s nothing. he’s still lost. he starts his rapport with connor again. he’s in awe at how good his twin has become. he has friends. he has good grades. 60′s happy that he has finally become the person he should have been. he’s so content he decides he wants to be a detective too. connor’s this close to punch him and probably does at some point since every one of them has a different perception of physical contact (connor’s one is angry, 60′s is sensual, RK900′s nonexistent). but 60′s okay with that. he’s always been someone that gets hurt and smiles. it’s just another of their rocky beginnings. 60 is almost found.RK900 in the meanwhile…. is both alone & lonely. he has a hard understanding of the world; he knows everything– in theory. but practical? none. his hands don’t do much if not writing and typing long essays. he studies a lot. that’s all he’s allowed to do and all he does. eventually he becomes detached. we’ll skip the evangelion part about his sexual needs and sexuality but to make it brief he’s not accustomed to himself. his body is too big, his shoulders too broad, his height too much. he loathes himself. he’s scared of himself. whenever someone compliments him about anything other than his grades he gets disgusted because in his brain is ingrained that that’s a lie. he hates his eyes more than anything. he wonders where he got them from. they’re his own personal curse. always reminding him his isolation. without brother, without twin, without mother. no one has blue in them. he never gets a girlfriend (not that he wouldn’t have a boyfriend, but even if he’s so huge he’s lowkey scared because he has not forgotten the bruises of connor’s fury on him and others) and keeps being a virgin (not even a first kiss) despite having many trying their luck with him, too sure he’s unlovable, too sure he’s somewhat bearing mankind first sin. he contemplated suicide. he’s insecure to the max. he finishes high-school. he could go to the best of colleges. he has a fine scholarship. amanda lets him know that the best option would be a very profitable profession. either politician or lawyer mhh no, no, prosecutor, judge? surgeon? he thinks about it. for a long time. 60, who kinda felt guilty about leaving like this and about not telling connor to stop with bullying him, texts him sometimes. he tells RK900 that connor wants to be a detective. he didn’t know. something happens. it’s a small thing. stupid, even. amanda probably makes a snide comment about connor. or wants to throw away what he left. he snaps. doesn’t say a thing but enrolls in the same cheap college as connor’s&60′s. he never felt anything until that moment. the feeling of being his own person, maker of his destiny; is both thrilling & frightful. amanda discovers when she asks him what he chose. he waits for a slap that never comes. it would have been cathartic. to finally be free, to rebel, and to be disowned and rejected. but amanda’s not stupid. while he closes his eyes she doesn’t hurt him. she only says ‘i’m disappointed’. that…. that doesn’t feel good as a slap would’ve. he’s terrified. but he can’t come back now. can’t rely on her anymore as she tells him he has two days to go away. he has done the wrong thing again. it’s not easy to accept that. he dies a little. he contemplates suicide again. he has his college tuition paid and his slice of his parents’ inheritance. he calls 60 crying. he can’t go to their apartment because connor would kill him. he’s alone. 60 tells him that there’s a cheap place where he can sleep. he goes there for a couple of days, 60 visits him, they have a chat, RK900 cries again and 60′s heart is so sad in seeing his red puffy eyes. he concludes that life’s not been so fair with them but they all made it more difficult by creating fake enemies in themselves. they search for an apartment together. RK900 settles his few things in there, it’s not the best and he has trouble being with other people but it’s okay for now. he starts to build his persona, he tries contacts, fake glasses, hobbies. he sees connor from time to time, but hides as soon as he comes near. he watches him from afar. for this reason he ends up attending a lot of crime-law related courses. he might as well take those exams since he still doesn’t know what to do. he gets good grades. he starts to like it. connor’s center of gravity is so heavy they all…. kinda copy him and become detectives. connor, at some point, gets 60 to spill the bean and acknowledges RK900 existence. he doesn’t care about him anymore. he’s a new person, he’s better, he’s free. RK900 never was his brother from day one. 60 is not okay with the whole situation but doesn’t think it’s a big thing, at least connor’s not livid and RK900 is fine.they all get to the DPD. it irks connor but he has an objective and he’s going to do whatever it takes, he’s going to be something. RK900 is pleased to be nothing. an ordinary detective, a police officer, whatever. he wants to take his time in living. peaceful. years pass & im very ignorant about police things in the usa so may have gotten the timeline wrong but i tried&searched believe me. they become detectives. connor always strives for a higher position. cole happens. cole dies. this happens. they continue their lives. RK900 gets promoted lieutenant instead of him. it’s hell.connor sees red. RK900 never wanted that. connor can’t think straight and in his mind it’s all his fault again, he wanted to ruin even this for him, never leaving him his piece of heaven for god knows why. RK900 tries to refuse, to explain to connor that he only wants to be some low rank and nothing else, he never meant to, to explain that connor’s the one who needs, who deserves this promotion. it’s no use. they get into a fight. well. connor gets into a fight. he punches RK900. RK900 falls to the ground. connor goes on top of him. 60 is distraught. attempts to stop connor the first time of his life because this, this is understandable but this is too much. it’s not his fault this time, it never was, and connor needs to grow the fuck up and forgive whatever has been eating him for decades. RK900 never reacted. but this time. this time he remembers, he knows. this time is not his fault. not the one to blame. sure, fate’s the one. but connor’s too, he too has the blame in his own destruction. these are the fruits. the catharsis that never came with amanda comes with him. RK900 punches connor back. time stops. everyone stop. he know what to do with his hands finally. then. times resumes. and they punch each other until they’re no longer able to stand. 60 cries. they’re kids still. and they’re all grounded. the punishment is: being themselves.RK900 has the habit of eating and spending his lunch break in the old archive. nobody uses it. there’s mostly file cases from long long time ago, still on paper. it’s quiet. and nobody looks at him. one day he’s taken aback because there’s someone else. he’s a bit annoyed he will have to find another place. he gets kindly informed that they’re the new part-timer that’s going to transfer these paper files into computer’s one. an android would have been too pricey. humans are the only thing one’s can afford sometimes. he asks if it’s okay for him to eat his lunch there that day. he’s welcome whenever he wants. he’s shy at first but does so. especially because there’s not another place calm enough. at some point they start to chat, he brings in work to share insights and so on. it’s his first friend. 60 discovers it. he pushes his brother to ditch the ‘i have a friend’ story, of course he’s in love. he isn’t. he doesn’t know what love means and he doesn’t want to know. 60 gives himself the role of cupid. of course he flirts with them. of course he does it only when RK900 is watching. it begins to be annoying. 60 doesn’t stop. RK900 is afraid that his only friend will become his brother’s partner or worse, his brother’s friend. and he knows that they won’t spend time with him again. and he’s sort of mad because he had one thing and everything was going fine. he was handling it alone. and nobody told him what to do for the first time. he doesn’t eat in the archive anymore. he spends his lunch break at the nearby park. nothing feels real. he contemplates suicide. his hands, his eyes, him. everything is wrong with him. he’s unable to ‘look’, just ‘watch’. in his vision things seem just faraway objects. he’s unable to ‘touch’, just ‘feel’. the sensations he gets aren’t his. they go to 60 and asks him if they ever did something bad because RK900 is avoiding them. 60 doesn’t know what to say, really. maybe he was the one to be wrong. 60 stops being 60. says to RK900 that he won’t bother him on this topic and please, please, forget about it and continue having whatever he was having. RK900 ponders about it for a while. his fragile friendship is destroyed. he can’t trust. but the next time he sees them he realizes that yes, he doesn’t think of friendship but something more. is this what 60 was talking about? love? he was jealous the whole time? yes, that, of course. but he was jealous in a romantic way? that shocks him. he’s an awkward mess of a man but they end up together and he’s happy for the first time. he doesn’t really love sex and he’s not used to it but it’s okay, it’s not an important thing in his relationship. probably will write something about him and his s/o and 60 asap. now i’m going to write nsfw and eat chips since this thing’s already 3000 words and tumblr’s crashing.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Wait... WHAT? (Richie)(Part 3)

This is honestly going on longer than I thought it would, oops. But I can’t sleep and I’m in a hard Richie mood so.. here I am. Enjoy?

Anon: Pidge

Word Count: 1748

The next day I was a wreck. I didn’t talk once and I couldn’t stay focused, little flashes of lights or distant conversations or birds chirping or the wind blowing through the trees or as car passing or literally anything and everything pulling me away from the Losers and their interactions. Not even Richie could get a reaction out of me.

“Hey Hot Stuff,” he greeted, slinging an arm around my shoulders as per norm. But I didn’t notice. Or, I did, but there was a butterfly flittering in the grass that caught my eyes and I watched it, forgetting about Richie or responding to him. I felt his arms fall off my shoulders and I looked over, remembering again. But the mood had shifted, I could see it in his expression, so I didn’t offer a greeting now. His eyes found mine and searched them, his head tilted. “You good?” He looked more curious than concerned, as if he was about to pull out another joke any second. I just nodded, and he seemed disappointed. He shrugged, moving over to Stan. “Stan the Man,” I heard Richie complain. “Your girlfriend’s freaking me out. They don’t mean it literally when they say ‘I’ll fuck your brains out’, but I guess you-“

Stan pulled away from Richie, mumbling a “Beep beep Richie,” before moving to me. After Beverly had called us, we were all meeting up to go to her place, me picking up the Losers one by one since I was the only one who knew where she lived. For some reason Ben was taking forever, so Mike and Eddie had gone inside to get him. Meanwhile, the rest of us waited for him outside. “Hey,” Stan offered quietly. “You okay?” I met his eyes, nodding. I even offered a smile. But my attention moved away again when a ray of sun caught on Silver, flickering into my eyes as Bill anxiously moved back and forth on his bike with his feet on the ground. “Hey.” I looked over again and this time Stan looked really worried. “Are you sure?” I widened my smile, nodding again, this time forcing some energy and false sincerity into it.

Ben came out of his house, Eddie and Mike behind him. “Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

“You’re fi-fine,” Bill reassured as everyone got on their bikes.

Stan still hadn’t looked away from me, but my attention was already on the Losers and my mind had completely forgot his worry. “Y/n,” he huffed as we began going, trying to get an answer out of me. “I know you’re not-“ he cut off, grunting as we all began riding and he had to focus on the road ahead and keeping up with everybody.

Because I wasn’t monitoring myself and trying to let everyone keep up, I ended up pulling ahead. On a daily, I biked all the time and walked just as much, usually to clear my head and even out my heavy, bad feelings. I rode to Bev’s without thinking, on autopilot, and it wasn’t until all of the Losers were yelling at me that I noticed they were falling behind. I slowed significantly until they all caught u and then evened out with them.

“Didn’t know you were so fast,” Mike teased with little breath.

“Fast or not, her ass looks fantastic when she rides.”

“RICHIE!” The boys complained. But I didn’t respond. I just kept leading them to Bev’s. By now, Mike and Ben were looking at me funny, noticing Stan’s eyes - large with concern - flickering between me and the road ahead of him. They were starting to notice something was wrong.

When we pulled up to the house, everyone but Eddie and Bill were about to approach me and I seized up. But then Beverly came rushing out. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushed, near hysterics. She seemed as shaken up as I was. Which was an obvious worry. I forgot myself and my attention was pulled to her as I instantly discarded my bike and moved to her. She met my eyes, her hands reaching out to grab mine, the bottoms of our palms touching as her fingers wrapped around my wrists. I knew the touch was comforting so I didn’t pull away. It felt nice. Normal. Like when it was just me and her. So lovely compared to last night. Her anger and coldness.

Geez I needed to focus!

“I need to show you something,” she said very seriously.”

“What is it?” Someone asked.

Richie piped up. “More than we saw at the Quarry?” I looked away from Bev, my eyes finding the dark haired both with something like humor mixing in my chest.

My face must have still been bank though because he looked almost guilty meeting my eyes when Eddie yelled, “Shut up, Richie, just shut up!”

Attention turned back to Bev. “My dad will kill me if he finds out,” she explained, her head shaking, and I squeezed her wrists - where my fingers had handed when she’d grabbed mine - reassuringly. “I had boys in the apartment,” she finished.

Immediately Bill piped up, “Wuh-we’ll leave a luh-look out. Uh, R-Richie, st-stay-stay here.”

Everyone began dropping their bikes as I had, Bev dropping my arms in favor of turning towards her house to go in the back way, her fingers reaching back to interlace with mine instead. “Whoa whoa whoa!” Richie protested loudly. “What if her dad comes back?”

“Do what you always do!” Stan responded. “Start talking.”

As everyone filtered in through the window, Bev dropped my hand and I stepped back, letting everyone in before me. As Richie called out weakly, “It’s a gift,” our eyes met and I actually managed to smile. Genuinely. He relaxed upon seeing the expression on my face and it was the last surge of positive emotion I felt before entering the house after the boys. Bev took us to her bathroom and the goodness melted away instantly. There was banter but I ignored it. I registered Eddie gagging and mumbling about health hazards but once I took in the bathroom drenched in blood, nothing but disgust an terror could register in my mine.

“You see it?” Bev asked quietly.

“Yes,” Stan answered weakly. “What happened in here.”

Bev shifted. “My dad couldn’t see it. I thought I might be crazy...”

I didn’t even think to reach out for her. I was really of my game. But after being emotionally shredded in every way and then taken to a room like this, I would say I’m allowed to be a little off my game. “If you’re crazy, we’re all crazy,” Ben offered, covering for my silence.

After a beat, Bill offered, “We c-c-can’t leave it like this.” We all looked at him, dead silent. He took a step in and we exchanged looks before following him. He directed us for the most part, keeping everyone’s mind on task as we tried to recoil from what we were supposed to be doing. At one point I reacher out my clean hand, patting Eddie on the back. He looked at me and his face actually softened, offering me a thankful smile in return of the apologetic but encouraging smile I’d offered. That was the moment that I felt connected to Eddie.

These boys were hard not to care for and bond with. Mike and Ben were so caring. Richie, Stan, Eddie, and Bill had such interesting minds and thoughts, worrying about completely different things but somehow working in a harmony that boggled me. Stan’s curiosity. Bill’s creativity and leadership and bravery. Richie’s constant unwavering ability to always have something to say. Eddie’s endless ‘fun’ facts and health tips. For the first time, I really WANTED to be friends with all of them and I wondered if it was too late for that.

I took the trash out, coming back to find Ben staring towards the bathroom. I looked over and my heart fell just as I was about to start getting into the groove again. I looked at Bill and Bev laughing and talking and I looked away, my eyes watering as images from last night filtered into my head.

Ben reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You too?” He whispered. I met his eyes, offering a half assed smile and a nod. He tilted his head. “Bev?” Oh the poor boy, thinking that he had both Bill AND me as competition. I let out one short huff of amusement, shaking my head. I was exhausted again and didn’t want to waste my energy on talking. Ben didn’t need me too though. “Bill?” He asked as softly as he had started. My smile fell and I nodded. His hand fell from my shoulder and we both turned away, moving back outside now that the job was finished. “It sucks,” he whispered. I nodded.

“What’s with you two?” Richie asked as we came out of the window and went down the stairs to join every one else (besides Bill and Bev). My eyes caught Stan’s and he knew immediately. He looked to Ben with confusion and then back to me and I managed to mouth, ‘Bev’. He nodded.

Ben saw the exchange and I looked over as I felt his eyes on me. Okay. Maybe I had made friends already and I hadn’t even realized it. Was Stan my friend? Really? Ben seemed to be. “Nothing your small brain could comprehend Richie,” Stan quips lightly, no malice behind his words. Richie goes off, triggering a fight to erupt between him and Eddie, but I find myself quiet enjoying it.

When my crush and my best friend finally join us, we get on our bikes and start riding.

I’m smiling and far more at ease, Ben and Stan to either side of me as we ride, Richie riding around the whole group as he goes off complaining and chucking out innuendoes, true to his Trashmouth name. Mike is between us and Bill and Bev who ride in the front. There’s a sense of peace with an underlying something that pokes and prods at that good feeling, threatening it. I push it away, trying to hold onto the feeling of unity and friendship that is so new to me with such a large of people. New but good.

Despite my determination, though... the horrors and troubles in my life are just about to begin.

[chaoticrice]

@skystones @the-caniderp  (it won’t let me tag youu)

WOW this is long overdue I AM SO SORRY.

Under a cut cause I write too much

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read this year. Can be your writing, or not.

·         “You promised dancers,” he says, his voice low, and she feels the flush spread on her cheeks.  “I only expect one.”

 – From chrio by seventhe  https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877289

“Let me give you some counsel, bastard,“ Lannister said. “Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.“

Jon was in no mood for anyone's counsel. “What do you know about being a bastard?“

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes.“

- From “A Game of Thrones” by George R.R. Martin

He laughed, and it was a cold, angry sound, but his fear crept like smoke past the laugh. And somewhere, somewhere a spark of hope that he wished he could stifle. "I failed you? I don't owe you anything. You should never have gotten your hopes up."

- From “Balance” by  CaptainArwenPond221B   http://archiveofourown.org/works/13027908/chapters/29798457

T. Themes

Themes from “The Burden of Rule”

1. Change:

How things have changed after the war, and how things have not.

Larsa wishes to change Archades into a society that is more understanding and loving towards foreigners in a post-war Ivalice, and he has visions of a multicultural Archades in the future. He wants to take the focus off of gaining status and reputation, and he wishes to decrease the class divide. (BASICALLY, Larsa wants to change everything. What an ambitious boy.)

Larsa is very different from Emperors of the past, and the Senate is having difficulty adjusting to the “radical” ways of their new emperor.

Penelo’s entire world changes when she is appointed Ambassador, of course.

2. Truth and Deceit:

Archades is a city of curious knowledge-seekers, and Penelo finds herself influenced by them, developing an investigative nature.

The news businesses twist the truth in favour of their own interests, as well as the interests of their respective districts. Rumours are spread about Larsa.

Penelo learns the balancing act of giving out the right info, while keeping the info that others can use to hurt her.

Penelo learns unspeakable truths that were hidden for a long time.

3. Unity and Division:

“In cooperation lies our hope.” – Larsa Ferrinas Solidor

Larsa wishes to strengthen Archadia’s relationship with Dalmasca, and Rozarria.

The formation of the new district, called Orbon, aka the reconstructed Old Archades, has reunited the “vulgars” of Old Archades with their loved ones in the city.

After spending the last few years isolated, Larsa finally reunites with his friends in Dalmasca, and eventually others.

The ever growing divide between Larsa’s ideals, and the Senate.

Archades is divided into districts, and each district has different opinions on Larsa. Some are heavily against, some are in support, and some are mixed (much like swing states in the U.S!) Because of this, when word gets out about Larsa’s bill, all hell breaks loose, and Larsa feels AWFUL for dividing his city.

The class and racial divides

4. Identity and Belonging:

Larsa struggles with his identity as a leader, whether he should compromise, or follow what he feels is right. As the last remaining member of House Solidor, there is no family to follow anymore, and he must make a new place for himself in Archadia’s history.

Penelo has always seen herself on the streets of Rabanastre, struggling to make ends meet, dancing with her troupe until she can dance no more. But now that the war is over, and the years have passed, Penelo finds herself at a loss for what to fight for, and grows bored with only providing entertainment. She looks to the mysterious and powerful world of government and politics in search of a purpose beyond her current understanding.

5. The Importance of Self-Value:

Larsa overworks himself in pursuit of his goals, neglecting both his mental and physical health, and Penelo will point out to him many times that he needs to remember to take care of himself.

Larsa and Penelo both feel like they are not good enough/ not worthy of their positions of power, and they each help the other realise that they are wrong.

 Themes of “The Mediator”

1.       Letting go of the past/ new beginnings

2.       Finding similarities with someone you least expect. Is that a theme? Something about bringing together two people from different nations… unity? Peace???

U. Any stories that took an abrupt u-turn from where you thought they were going?

THE BURDEN OF RULE, JFC. It was originally about the liberation of Landis, what a stupid idea right??? Lolololol  But now it makes sense why in the current incarnation of the story, I have crammed many Landisians in Archades’ new district, Orbon. Some of it had to survive - too bad my lesbian Landisian judge and her sky pirate/terrorist brother didn’t. I liked them. Maybe I can cram them into the story as minor characters Penelo gets info from. IDK.

OH. AND PENELO WASN’T AN AMBASSADOR. WTF WHEN DID I PUT THAT IN??? It’s been three years, man.

At some point I played with the idea of an impeachment storyline. I still do. I just love the idea of the Senate putting Larsa on trial for something. I get delicious shivers, and I think about the scene in FFX when Yuna is on trial.

Some things have remained: the decline in Larsa’s mental health, the panic attack scene, and Larsa vs. the Senate. Wow I am shameless when it comes to giving out spoilers.

V. Which story was the most viscerally pleasing to write? Tell us your narrative kinks.

The Burden of Rule, mainly because I’VE BEEN WAITING THREE YEARS TO FINALLY DO IT.

ANYWAYS… I’m a dialogue slut, so narrative has never been my thing. Butttt, if I had to choose, it would be INTERIOR MONOLOGUES. That’s the good shit. Any scene where Larsa is thinking about how inferior he is/ how much he hates himself, just makes me feel so satisfied.

Things like:

               Leave it to him to bore a girl to sleep.

               AND:

               “My Lord,” he warned, and Larsa turned his head to face him, “I advise we depart shortly if you wish to arrive before nightfall.”

Time is running short.

“She will be here; I am sure of it.” Larsa succeeded in keeping his voice calm, despite his increased heart rate.

Why must Basch always worry? Larsa did not need someone else to worry for him.

He directed his gaze downward so that all he could see was the floor, his own crossed arms, and his chest. He became increasingly aware of how shallow his breathing had become. Perhaps he could try to slow it down…

But there was no time for that.

She will not show.

Of course not; why would she? No one as pure as her would taint themselves in the twisted world of Archadian politics willingly. Penelo was no fool, unlike him. He was the only fool here, to think for a second that she would actually show up. The war may be over, but he was sure Penelo’s memories of it remained. He would not blame her if she wanted nothing to do with this…

 Z. If you could choose one work and immediately finish it, what would it be? How would you end it?

·         Like… with no effort? Like POOF, here’s your story? If that’s that case, then “Discreet” for sure. Ya’ll don’t know about “Discreet.” It was a sexy oneshot I made in my head about Penelo meeting a middle aged Dalmascan/Archadian woman who owns the only sex shop in Archades. (I headcanoned Archades as having a culture where sex is a dirty subject no one with respect talks about openly. Kids are taught abstinent-only bullshit. That kinda shit. The sex shop is in the new district, tucked away in some dark corner lol. Oh yeah, and it’s called “Discreet” lololol) So this had newly established Larnelo, and Penelo asks sex shop lady for advice on how to seduce an Archadian man, because Penelo is thirsty and Larsa is shy as hell and is not getting the hint. Oh yeah, and he might be demisexual. Obviously, this was gonna be femdom. Cause I love me some femdom.

AND I ACTUALLY STARTED WRITING IT, but… much like Larsa… I am shy. When it comes to. The sexy.  >___>

Oh yeah it ends with Penelo getting laid, obviously. XD