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noctilucid · 3 years

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DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail. "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational. Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards." Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags. A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group. "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants. Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day. She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before. But here she was, hiking in them. The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet. And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt? What was she, five?

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson." He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.

Uhg, perfecto. I'm with Creepy Manson. They did this on purpose, didn't they? Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her. She flipped through the pages. "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge. She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper. "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs. Some of them have spores." She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate. "This one can lay spores in your face."

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers. "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner! I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods. I'm too pretty to die."

"No changing groups!"

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms. "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker. "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill. "Try not to be too hard on her?"

"No promises," Sam grumbled.

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.

"Ow! Hey, get off of me!"

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground. Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly. By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased. "Why would they even put that on here? It's not native to this area."

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."

"Oh, of course," Sam returned. "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you. You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem." She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down. "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath. Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day. She just had to figure out how.

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina. "We should probably go uphill to look for it…" Paulina died a little more inside. No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time. "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down. "I think that says more about you than about me."

Paulina clenched her fists. "Ugh! You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal! Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far." Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument. She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch. "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually. Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with. "Would it kill you to apologize? ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!" She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk. "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.

"I hope you shredded it or something. I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin. "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself. "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper. Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again. Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for. The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.

"I think this is it. The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison. "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them. "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled. I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young. I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before. They take a couple of years to get established."

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one? There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same." Paulina shook her head. "You know, whatever. Let's just take a branch and go—" She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands. Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin. She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch. In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch. With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch. "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—" Magic. That was honest to god magic! Paulina felt lightheaded. She had been… dabbling. Combing the internet and old bookstores. At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention. But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic. And here it was.

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head. "Semitic Neopaganism. There's a difference."

Paulina paused to think on it. Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish? Would it even work for me? She chewed on her lip. What am I saying? There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place. Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said. "Properly. I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade. Um. And sixth and seventh too, actually." Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers. "I've never liked you. But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you." She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside. "But then you pulled Danny into it. So, I'll never apologize." She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze. "And neither will you." Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm. It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement. And Paulina had no idea how to respond. "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures. So… let's just move on." She extended a hand to Paulina. "Deal?"

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it. Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.

"Deal." She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest. Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam. Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire. "We don't like each other."

"Naturally." Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.

"But we… don't hate each other either. We just... are. Now."

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips. "Yeah."

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?" She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. That sounds fun."

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it. Oh, what does it matter? Sam's not looking at me anyway. She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head. Real magic! She'd found someone who knew real magic! She shook her head again. Of course it would be Manson. Of course.

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam. It was easier going downhill. "What do we still have to find?"

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants. "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle. They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last. We can head down and check the creek on our way back." Oh thank god, we're almost done. Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram. "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns. Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers. "Solemn. Solemn goth witch." She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed. Sam laughed.

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that. Go on, be as pink as you'd like." She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake. Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.

#dannymay2021 #phanniemay2021 #danny phantom #Paulina Sanchez #Sam Manson #my writing

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haechanplsacceptmylove · 4 years

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Regret pt.4 (final)

Part one 🍓 part two 🍓 part three 🍓 part four 🍓

Warning(s): smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

A/n: omfg finally im posting this, I couldn’t upload this from my phone so I gave up and used my laptot, guys the editing is bad cuz idk how this aMaZing app works on pc. Anyway this is the last part!!! I hope you like it omg. Now I’ll be waiting for you requests!!! I write about anyone, don’t be scared and just request uwu.

You wake up at the feeling of the sun warming your face and check the time "oh shit it's already 11pm" you get up quickly and go take a shower. You do your morning routine and prepare breakfast. "morning" your best friend Mina says walking with her eyes half open "morning lazyass" you chuckle and tell her the breakfast is ready.

You decided to put on some music from the speakers while you eat and chat. After a couple songs NCT DREAM's Ridin starts playing and you stop eating, looking emotionless at your food, flashbacks filling your head. Your friend quickly changes the song feeling guilty for not checking the playlist before putting it on play. You look at her giving her a faint smile "their new album is pretty good.." she looks at you not knowing what to say. "should I agree or change the topic" she thinks to herself looking at you confused , "Mina!" you startle her and chuckle "your food is getting cold, eat! I didn't cook it to be thrown away" you say and she nods and continues eating.

It's been almost 2 months since what happened. You both never talked after that night. After crying your eyes out everyday and night for a whole 3 weeks, you decided to get out of the sorrow you're in and get a hold of your life especially when your comeback was very near, you thought that working hard and for yourself and your members and fans was more important and so you continued on living trying to not think about the whole incident, which was obviously pretty hard. You missed each other so much but you both were too hurt, you were afraid that staying together will hurt more than letting go of each other. Your band had a comeback last month and you're more than thankful that you both didn’t have a comeback at the same time, otherwise you would've had to promote together. You congratulated the nct members for their comeback , except of course Haechan. You're still in contact with the members, and they believe that there was a misunderstanding between you two so they also were trying their best to talk to Haechan about it whenever they get the time. After that incident Mino apologised to you and promised you to make things right. Well you also feel guilty about it so you forgave him, not wanting to lose such an important person again. -meanwhile- The dreamies are all sitting in the dressing room watching their comeback performance. "yo hyuck did you make your mind?" Jaemin whispers to Haechan but of course the other members heard him and switched their attention on Haechan who's now looking at his bubble tea thinking deeply. He sighs "I don't know..." "c'mon man they did wrong but you know damn well y/n was completely not in her right mind!" Chenle says "that's right, and you know how easily y/n gets drunk and how clumsy she could be" Renjun adds and the others nod. One month ago Mino finally had the chance to meet Haechan after getting rejected numerous times, and he finally explained everything to him, from the beginning till the very end and took the blame for starting it. "I know y/n didn't understand what she was saying nor doing and i knew she didn't mean anything of it but i was just.... I just really missed her. I know that was very selfish of me but it's not her fault! I was wrong, i made a mistake, please don't hurt y/n more, she's already broken i can't see her like that" Mino says in one go afraid he'd get interrupted again and ending up in another misunderstanding. After that, Haechan had been thinking about it and he decided to forgive you, after all he loved you more than himself, you were his everything. But he was afraid he hurt you too much, not forgetting how you once told him "when someone hurts me... I usually automatically start building hate towards them so my good feelings end towards them and I can live without being or getting hurt anymore, that how my escape or fight-mode works" you told him after getting out of your toxic relationship. Haechan just couldn't stop thinking about that and kept getting more scared everyday thinking that your hate towards him is growing more and more everyday. ----------- "you look gorgeous" you stylist looks at you mouth open. You had a yellow crop top that showed your shoulders and black mini pencil skirt, with yellow and black thigh high boots. You looked gorgeous, everyone looked at you in awe, especially when it was your first time wearing yellow in such an event. You're on an award show, where basically all the artists are attending and especially the band where's also your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. "wait let me put this necklace, it suits your outfit very well" your stylist says going behind you, you look in the mirror and see her putting on the sunflower necklace Haechan gave you on your first date after getting officially together, long time ago. You hold the necklace and hesitate "what's wrong? You don't like it??" your stylist says and you shake your head "oh no.. Bu- nothing it's pretty" you smile and she nods putting it on around your exposed neck. Your members look at you in awe "y/n you look- wow you're really gonna be the prettiest in this event" "i know rightt! Ugh I'm jealous" your members whine and you chuckle. You were the last band to enter the hall and everyone stood up bowing to you and you doing the same to them. Your table was near NCT's and you feel yourself getting nervous. You sit down and start chatting with redvelvet members who were sitting with your band in the same table. You feel someone's gaze on you and automatically turn your gaze to meet his, Haechan's. As soon as he realises you're looking at him he looks away and you do the same. He was looking extremely handsome that night, "a whole snack" you thought to yourself. It's been already 45 min in the event and you just can't hold it in anymore. You and Haechan keep gazing at each other, until you both finally hold eye contact that lasts 5 seconds. You look away and sigh getting up and walking past NCT's table towards the backstage. Haechan's eyes follow you and see where you're going. You go backstage and walk till you reach the cafeteria that's made for idols. You buy a water bottle and drink it. Suddenly you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the nearest empty dark room. As soon as the door closes you're pinned on it. Thanking god for the open window where the moon's light is shining through, you could see who it was. The one and only, the boy who owns your heart and your soul, the one who completely owns you; Lee Donghyuck. His face is so close to yours as you can feel his breath on your lips, he looks at your mouth and back at your eyes, then he scans your face, the face he's been missing for the past 2 months; 60 days; 1440 hours. Without words he leans in slowly, making sure to give you the time to react and stop him before he does what he's about to do, but you don't do anything, instead you grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. A kiss full of emotions, sadness, hatred, happiness. Soon the slow kiss turns into a heated hungry make out, you both pull away panting and holding an eye contact. "I fucking missed you" he says leaning his forehead onto yours. "i missed you too, hyuck, so much" you say closing your eyes, you soon feel his lips back onto yours and you start another make out session wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling his hair. He moans in the kiss, damn he missed you, everything about you. Your smell, your taste, your voice, your smile, your moves, everything. Haechan's hands move from your waist to your ass, giving is a small squeeze as his hands then slide down to your thighs to pull you up. You jump and wrap your legs around his waist not breaking the kiss. Haechan places you on the nearest table and lets you sit on it, he moves from your mouth to kiss your jawline down to your neck and collarbones till he reaches your necklace. His eyes glows as he chuckles and kisses your necklace and your chest area around the necklace. He leans back and looks at you "you're gorgeous" he pulls you into another kiss but now you can feel his apologies in it, his regrets and his sorrow. You feel as tears stream down your face he pulls back and holds your cheek wiping your tears "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he says now tears streaming down his cheeks too. You hold his cheeks "Sorry Donghyuck, forgive me I was so stupi-" he interrupts you "shhhh i can't stay mad at my baby for a long time you know" he chuckles and gives you one last kiss before kissing down your chest, pulling down your top, showing your breasts and he wastes no time to attack them, sucking on them as if his life depends on it. You let out a whimper and hold pull on his hair, letting your head fall back and arching your back. His hands go down to your boots and zips them off, massaging your bare legs, not letting go of your nipples. You feel your nipples getting numb and moan loud trying to pull your chest out of Haechan's mouth and he pulls away kissing down your clothed stomach reaching your sensitive clothed clit. He pulls your legs putting them on his shoulders pulling your skirt up and taking your pants off, attacking your sensitive nerves immediately and you let out a moan putting your hand on your mouth right after. Haechan groans knowing he won't be able to hear you moan since people could be anywhere out there. He eats you out, giving you full satisfaction as you arch your back and hold his head pushing him deeper "ah fuck hyuck! I'm-im close" your back is about to break arching trying to reach your long waited climax. Just about when you reach it, Haechan pulls away and you whine at the cold feeling. Haechan looks at you smirking zipping his pants off and freeing his thick dick, you bite your lips as soon as your eyes lay on his thick member, feeling the saliva in your mouth you just want to get on your knees right now and give him the best suck but his chuckle wakes you up from your dreamland, "already feeling hungry baby?" he says. "I want to suck you" you say straightforwardly and he nods "I'll remember that and make sure you keep your promise" he says and slams into you. "Ah!" you let out a loud moan "fuck you're big" you say panting and he chuckles "it's not like it's your first time having me inside you" he kisses you jaw waiting for you to adjust but you start immediately moving your hips "needy aren't we" he smirks "just move- fuck!" he interrupts you with a harsh thrust, another and another until he's thrusting at a fast rhythmical pace. You try to keep you moans in, he pulls you closer and you put your legs around his hips, making him go deeper and hit that perfect spot making you a moaning mess "fuck it" you think and let go of your mouth hugging Haechan biting his shoulder and moaning. Haechan on the other side keeps groaning in your ear as he bites and sucks on your sensitive neck, leaving red and purple marks that will definitely cause you troubles with your stylist. "fuck babygirl you're so tight" he whispers growling sending goosebumps down your spine "only for you daddy" you say feeling yourself getting closer to your lost climax and arch your back "ah fuck im close!" you moan and his thrusts get faster if that's even possible "fuck me too baby let's do it at the same time" he kisses you swallowing each other's moans as you reach your climax and soon you feel his hot cum filling you up. You ride your orgasms and lean your foreheads on eachother's. "I love you y/n" "I love you Hyuck" you smile at each other still panting feeling him getting softer in you. "Okay are you done now? Get out it's our time to perform" you hear a knock and Jaemin's voice, and dreamies' chuckles.

"they'll never stop teasing us" hyuck says and you laugh putting your clothes on and getting out of the room hand in hand, face red. You see the dreamies smirking at you both and shaking their heads. "you hornyass nasties!" Jisung yells in disgust and they chuckle.

"Y/N!!!!!!! WHAT'S ON YOUR NECK" you hear your stylist yell and you swear under your breath. Well you both got in trouble in that event but you didn't forget your promise later that night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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fuyupeach · 4 years

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Could you maybe write a small fic or one shot about Ryuji finding out his s/o has a palace? The s/o is also a Persona user, but something makes her really depressed and she looses her connection with her Persona and her true self. She ends up having a palace out of depression, like Futaba, instead of evil. Maybe when she reawakens her Persona, its extremely strong? If you need any more information or ideas, feel free to message me

Here you go! I almost messaged but an idea came to me! I hope you like it, and thank you for the request! I actually imagine something similar for my Ryuji fic (wink wonk), but we’ll have to see. This was supposed to be short, but before I knew it, it hit 1.6k bjfhkj

You were trapped in your thoughts, the world around you getting murkier and murkier. There was nothing you could do, each day fading from your memory, only glimpses of concerned gazes from those around you breaking in inbetween.

You’re useless. They don’t need you.

Why do they need another persona user like you if they already have someone to cover ice and healing?

Why did Makoto have to protect you? Can’t even keep up with the others....

Each thought hit you harder and harder. Though you knew it wasn’t true at all, each minor mistake you made, each day of being on the sidelines in Mementos, each time you seemed to be the last in the loop chipped away at you. You gave excuses as to why you couldn’t meet with them at Le Blanc, how you had to babysit and couldn’t join them in Mementos, even shutting Ryuji out.

Needles pricked at your skin as you walked the Shujin hallways, your thoughts making your chest ache. You feel warmth wrap around your wrist, lifting your tired eyes to a more alive golden brown pair. You hadn’t gotten much sleep lately.

“___.” Ryuji stares into your eyes, concern written all over his face. You couldn’t help but feel more guilty. You couldn’t even keep yourself together.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You take your arm away despite every part of your body telling you not to.

Ryuji’s frown deepens, he doesn’t believe you. “Look, you know you can talk to me about anything that’s botherin’ you, right? This isn’t really the best place to talk about it… but I haven’t seen you anywhere else. Did we do something?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, black around the edges of your vision, Ryuji just barely visible in your haze. “I said I’m fine.” it comes out harsher than you would ever intend with Ryuji.

Ryuji’s brows furrow, hand reaching out to you. “But—”

“I said I’m fine.” Your voice is louder this time. Ryuji flinches, your heart hurts so much. “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”

“You don’t need me anyways.”

You whisper as you walk off, and that is the last anyone sees of you for a week.

----

“I’m telling you,” Ryuji says from Akira’s couch. “Something isn’t right. She won’t open up for anyone, won’t answer our calls, nothing.”

“You’re right…” Ann bites her lip nervously as she prepares to say what she thinks next, “You… you don’t think she has a palace, do you? I just can’t help but think of how similar this was to Futaba.” She looks around at everyone.

“She didn’t seem desperate to break away from what’s bothering her like I was though,” Futaba says silently, eyes on the ground as she sits on Akira’s bed in one of her complex positions. “Mona did say all the emotion needed to be was enough to change their cognition, so anything’s possible, right?”

“I’ll.. I’ll check.” Ryuji says, hands slightly shaky as he opens the Navi app. “____.”

“Palace found.”

The room is silent as they all look at each other.

----

“It’s all my fault. I’m so useless it’s no wonder no one wants me to help anymore.” You’re curled up in your bed, room dark and body weak.

That’s right.

You flinch, eyes squinting in pain as you look to see a figure that looks exactly like you. Her eyes are different, it’s golden yellow chilling you to the bone as she stares coldly down at you in the dark. She is hunched over, body oozing sloth.

No one will come for us. No one cares for us anymore. No one needs us anymore. We are nothing on our own.

She fades away from your sight, leaving you again in your abysmal mind.

----

“What is this..?” The gang looks around your palace in shock. Your palace had been hard to access given that you had cut off contact with next to everyone, but you still had a soft spot for Ryuji, giving him one answer before disappearing again.

I’m in a cold, deep dark abyss I can’t ever hope to escape from. No one needs me anymore.

Your password had been abyss, your palace practically a black hole. The shapes of the palace warped and changed, unsteady. Words, your thoughts, leapt out at them at random times, sharp and red, written on the walls.

Ryuji couldn’t bear to see your emotions bared like this. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this all sooner, hadn’t done something. He knows he can’t protect you from everything, especially how you feel, but he still wishes he could’ve been able to do something anyways.

Ryuji can’t help but gasp as he sees your shadow for the first time. Your posture and the bags under your eyes hurt to see, your eyes piercing through him whenever you spoke. Your hair was a mess, the dress you wore seeming to be what weighed you down, the sleeves flowing past your unseen hands, the turtleneck looking almost as if it was constricting you, as if you didn’t deserve to speak. Your feet were bare, bruised and blue skin just barely visible from the bottom of your dress.

When you come face to face with your shadow in your palace, it had been because you had followed her.

Come with me, She says. We will go to where we can be alone. Where we will no longer be a hindrance to anyone else.

You take out your phone, opening the meta-nav and inputting your information.

That’s right.. Your shadow fades from your sight quivering back in place as you open your eyes to the new sight of your palace. You walk along the dark pathway, stopping when you hear a voice call out to you.

“___! Stop!” It was Ryuji, the rest of the phantom thieves running to catch up behind him. Of course, even now you were causing trouble for him. Your heart ache increases, your head pounding as you almost fall to your knees.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone…” You mutter, eyes drawn downward. “I can finally disappear. You won’t have to worry about me causing anymore trouble for you guys again.”

“But that’s it!” Ryuji yells, desperate to get his words to reach you. “We’re here ‘cause we care! You’re not a burden.” His words are so full of conviction you can’t help but stare at him in shock. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You’re almost shaken out of your stupor, subconsciously taking a step forward before a hand cold as ice grips your shoulder tightly, keeping you in place.

“Can’t you see they’re lying? You could never be of use to them. You add nothing by joining them. Come. With. Me.” With each word her grip gets tighter, a yelp escaping you as you fall to your knees from the pain.

“Get away from her!” Ryuji runs to you, only to throw him and the others back in a cold gust of wind. An ice wall forms a dome around you, you and your shadow at the very top, layers leaving you three stories above.

“Don’t you dare give in, ___!” Akira’s voice booms through the palace up to you, your closed eyes snapping open.

He was right. The cold hand still gripping your shoulder went ignored as you stared at your friends and love below, the conviction on their faces enough for you to rise to your feet. Despite all you did, they were still there, and no one had done that for you before. Your vision clears some more, your headache dimming.

“You’re wrong.” You turn to face your shadow, standing straight, the opposite of her. “I may not be the most unique, but clearly they see something in me if they’re here now.”

“My worth shouldn’t be dependent on others. Not even them, and definitely not you.” You feel your mask appear on your face.

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Your persona tells you.

“Come, Aphrodite!” You rip your mask off, adrenaline pumping through you as you knock your shadow back. You clothes are still the same, black pants clinging to your legs. Your mauve top is tucked in with a bit of it untucked, balloon sleeves slim at your wrists, the turtleneck freer than it was on your shadow. Your boots are also black, the red underside visible as you leap down from the ice, landing smoothly in front of the others. You felt stronger than before. More self-assured.

“Sorry for the hold up,” You tell them. “Let’s get this over with.”

-----

Later the next day when you’re a little less exhausted, you lay with Ryuji in his room, arms wrapped around him in his bed. You had spent enough time in your room for the time being.

“I’m sorry for being so harsh to you earlier.” Your arms can’t help but tighten around him as you say this, face practically buried in his chest.

“You couldn’t help it.” Ryuji’s hands rub up and down your back, soothing as ever. “I wish I could’ve helped or—or done something earlier… I was scared I might lose you.” His voice hurts to hear. Was he going to cry? Your brows furrow with guilt. “Seeing all of that in your palace… I meant what I said. You could never be a burden to me.”

Tears form in your eyes as you pull back to look at Ryuji. “I should’ve opened up about what was bothering me. I know we don’t usually keep things from each other, but I just felt so stuck. I’ll try to not hold it in until I can’t take it.”

“I’ll do the same.” Ryuji murmurs, eyes meeting yours and making you melt all over again. “I love you.”

You lean up and bring a hand to his cheek, kissing him softly.

“I love you too.”

#peach writes #ryuji sakamoto x reader #ryuji x reader #persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 x reader #Ryuji Sakamoto #persona #persona fanfiction

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litwitlady · 4 years

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whatever walked there, walked alone - part one

My Halloween fic which I love writing too much to abandon. Content warnings: mentions of child abuse, Alex is dead and not coming back to life, blood, emo poetry.

Michael Guerin exits the city limits and heads west. The sun is beginning to set, framing the mountains in flames of orange and red, painting the sky in purples and pinks. His phone GPS says the house is 13.3 miles from Roswell city center. A scant ten-minute drive.

A few miles later, the ironwork of the property’s fence comes into view. The house is hidden behind several large hawthorn and plum trees, creating a dense canopy that protects the mansion from the blazing desert sun.

Michael parks outside the gate and pulls a bolt cutter from the bed of his truck. The ornate ironwork is buried in English ivy. He clears the vines away and breaks through the chains locking the gate doors, swinging them open. They creak and moan as the rusty hinges strain after years of disuse.

It’s like walking into a dream. Or a nightmare. Another planet, maybe. The desert disappears and suddenly there’s thick grass beneath his boots. Flowers bloom despite the heavy tree coverage and everything green is overgrown. But the house is finally visible – the cornices crumbling, the menacing marble lions shrouded in yellowing moss.

A breeze rustles through the leaves, sending a shiver up Michael’s spine. He feels eyes on the back of his head and spins on his heels. A cat hops out of a maple tree, sending several birds flying from their perches. Michael laughs to himself and turns back towards the house.

Dead, drying leaves are scattered across the stone steps. The giant wood doors are also locked with chains. Michael makes quick work of them and pushes against the splinted oak. But the doors won’t budge. The moisture and heat have warped the wood. So, no matter how hard he pushes, there’s no give. With a sigh he climbs back down the stairs. Vows to come back the next day with the necessary tools.

And maybe not alone.

But as his boots sink back into the grass, he hears the doors open. A thick, musty scent settles in around him. When he glances over his shoulder, the doors are gaping at him like a hungry mouth ready to swallow him whole. The cat dashes past him, through the doors, and he swears he hears his name whispered from somewhere deep inside.

He swallows hard and pulls out his cell phone. But there’s no reception. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to go inside. Definitely not by himself. Wants, instead, to head back to Isobel’s and crawl inside his warm bed. Wants to forget this dilapidated old house even exists.

Michael takes several deep breaths, reclimbs the stairs. And then he forces himself to cross the threshold into the darkness.

The foyer floors are filthy. Covered in muck and grime, the black and white checkered marble barely visible. Spiderwebs crisscross from surface to surface, collecting dust and other debris he’d rather not think too much about. The windows are all curtained with heavy, velvet drapes – allowing no light to pass.

Michael runs his fingers along a gilded mirror, eyes catching on a group of picture frames still hanging from the garish floral wallpaper. He leans forward, blowing the dust from the glass. Sneezes several times. The photos show a family. Father, mother, and four boys – the youngest just a baby. In most of the pictures, the father is dressed in full military regalia. His wife pretty and unsmiling. The children with hands in pockets, devoid of that devilish charm so common to young boys.

He begins to notice a pattern as he follows the frames down the hallway. Three of the boys start to grow up – getting taller, shoulders broadening. But the youngest never grows past eight, maybe nine years old. Michael feels a sadness clutch at his heart. Wonders what happened to the little boy. Suspects it’s nothing good. And likely the reason the house has been left to rot for so long.

The cat reappears out of a hall closet. Michael startles and watches him dash towards the curving staircase, bounding up the stairs. He looks back at the front doors, making sure they are still open. The sunlight is entirely gone now. He pulls out his phone and clicks on the flashlight app. Continues further into the belly of the house.

In the kitchen, he finds the cabinet doors all removed – probably stolen by some house foraging flipper – but the bowls and plates left behind. An eight-burner stove takes up a third of the room. The gigantic commercial refrigerator another third. There are two center islands and clearly the kitchen was for catering lavish parties. Michael is unimpressed by the cold austerity of the space and is already mentally remodeling.

He putters through the cabinets and stumbles upon a collection of toddler-sized sippy cups. There are four – each with a boy’s name painted across the top. Clay, Gregory, Flint, and Alex. He reaches up and pulls the one labeled ‘Alex’ from the shelf. The cup is cracked and chipped around the rim. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck shiver, sending another chill down Michael’s spine. He drops the cup onto the floor, the crash echoing down the hallway.

Upstairs the cat screeches.

Michael hears his name whispered again.

And then the doors slam shut.

***

‘The house is haunted, Iz.’ They are at the grocery store, restocking for the week ahead.

She rolls her eyes at him while grabbing more cereal. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts, Michael. It was just the wind.’

He stares back at her like she’s stupid. ‘There’s no such thing as aliens either. And there was no fucking wind.’

Isobel, hands on hips, stops mid-aisle. ‘The place is a gothic nightmare. It got in your head and freaked you out. The sooner you sell that place the better.’

Intellectually, Michael knows she must be right. But he can’t ignore doors closing on their own and floating voices calling his name.

‘Do you know what happened to the original family? I think their name was Manes?’ He’d pulled the old deed. There wasn’t much to go on other than the name Jesse Manes. ‘I don’t remember them from when we were kids.’

She grabs a bag of rice. ‘Jesse Manes was a General in the Air Force. Served as Chief of Staff to the entire USAF when we were in high school. Really big deal. His kids all went to some military academy on the east coast.’

‘Was? Is he dead?’ He sneaks two boxes of pop-tarts into the cart.

‘Not that I know of. He was dishonorably discharged. Not too long after his youngest son died. Something about an extortion scandal.’ Isobel shrugs her shoulders and turns onto the next aisle.

‘His youngest son? The little boy – Alex.’

She narrows her eyes at him. ‘Alex Manes. Yes. But he was 28 when he died. Killed overseas. Maybe he’s your ghost.’

‘Wait – that doesn’t make sense. That house looks like it’s been abandoned for at least a decade.’ He tries to do the math in his head. Three years might lead to some broken windows and cobwebs, but not the level of decay he’d discovered. The grime on the floors alone would have taken at least twice as long. And the bannister was literally rotting.

‘Don’t know what to tell you. Happened three years ago. I was working with the General on a military fundraising event. And then, poof! He was just gone. Nothing left behind but newspaper gossip. And that house.’ She looks down at her shopping list. ‘I’m going to grab some milk – meet you at checkout.’ She gives a little wave and rolls off.

Michael leans against the row of shelves. Thinks about what Isobel’s told him. He doesn’t know why Edna May Rollings bequeathed the property to him in her will. Or all that money. Sure, he’d mowed her grass a few times – changed her oil. But the Manes property was worth well over a million dollars.

Nothing was making any sense.

Later that afternoon, Michael decides to do his own research at the town library. He pulls up article after article from the Roswell Gazette highlighting the many philanthropic endeavors of the Manes family. Jesse Manes often lauded as a hero. His sons all highly decorated military officers themselves.

In all the articles, he only finds mention of an Alex Manes once. In his obituary dated October 14, 2018. The paper mentions he’d been killed by IED while serving in Iraq. There’s a grainy, black and white photo above the obit. Captain Alexander Manes in his uniform, blank expression on his face. And it’s a good face – cheekbones for days, expressive eyes, and a full bottom lip. Michael stops for a minute to admire the handsome soldier and to lament his early demise.

He pulls out his notebook and writes down the names mentioned in the obituary. All of the survivors – mother, father, brothers, distant relatives. Surely, one of them lives within driving distance. If not, there’s always the phone or email. He intends to find some answers.

Michael leaves the library and drives to the Roswell cemetery. The plots are arranged alphabetically, for the most part. And he finds the Manes family relatively easily. Alex’s tombstone is the white marble of fallen soldiers. But there’s no inscription beyond his name or the relevant dates of birth and death. It’s odd not to see a ‘beloved son’ or ‘cherished brother’. He’s beginning to suspect the Manes family buried more than just their son three years ago.

The next day Michael heads back to the house. But this time he’s not alone. He’s accompanied by an entire cleaning crew and Isobel. Who merely intends to rifle through the family’s forgotten belongings and steal whatever trinkets catch her eye. And to tease him mercilessly about his ghost.

Michael does his best to avoid everyone. He has his own mission in mind and doesn’t want to be disturbed. The upstairs hallway leads to all the main bedrooms – master on the left and the four smaller rooms on the right. Each of the secondary bedrooms is nearly identical in shape and size. Except for last room – tiny and dark. A single bed compared to the doubles next door. He knows deep in his bones that this was Alex’s room.

A terrific sadness envelops him when he steps inside. He tries to flip the light switch, but nothing happens – the only light whatever sun fights its way through the dirty window.

Michael starts there – wiping the glass clean. He sweeps and mops the floor, dusts the baseboards, and removes the cobwebs. Opening the closet door, he finds a torn cardboard box tucked inside. Pulling back the battered flaps, he discovers several yellowing journals. Pages and pages of scribbled notes and poems and the various ramblings of a teenage boy. He takes the journals to his truck immediately, stashing them beneath his seat.

As the day stretches into night, there’s no sign of any ghosts. No weird noises. No strange whispers. Isobel has taken every mirror in the house among several crystal dishes. Most of the rooms are as spotless as they’re going to get, the smell of bleach giving him a headache. But the place is starting to feel less creepy.

After everyone else leaves, Michael takes one more trip up to Alex’s bedroom. Sits in the middle of the room and waits. For what, he’s not sure. A presence maybe. Which he knows is insane, but something or someone called his name the day before.

The sun is nearly gone. The room is dark and still. That sadness from earlier still pushes at him, but he doesn’t feel afraid. Oddly enough, he feels safe and warm. And then the floor creaks. Not just once. Over and over again. Like someone’s pacing from the window to the bed and back again.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounds scratchy, dry and nervous.

The footsteps stop. Michael’s breath catches as he strains to listen. ‘Alex? Alexander Manes?’ Something blows across the back of his neck. He swallows but stays still.

‘I’m going to bring your journals back. I promise.’ Making a ghost angry is probably a bad idea. ‘I just wanted to get to know you better.’

Nothing happens. And he feels a sinking sense of loss.

At Isobel’s later that night, Michael is curled up in his bed staring at Alex’s journals. He’s anxious about reading them. Worries that what he’ll discover is worse than anything he could have ever imagined. Worries that he’ll meet someone in these journals that he’ll come to love. Someone that he’s already lost.

The first journal is marked 2003. It’s plain black with a Further Seems Forever sticker peeling along the spine. Opening to the first page, Michael is struck by how neat the handwriting is. His own is nothing but chicken scratch. But this kid wrote in neat, tidy letters – not a smudge in sight.

July 2003

Today I am a teenager. And I missed mom for the first time in forever. I came home and dad was drinking. Started yelling at me to put his ladder back where I’d found it. But I never, ever touched his stupid ladder. That was Flint. He didn’t care. And now my ribs hurt. Happy Birthday, Alex.

I’ve only been home for two weeks, but I already want to go back to school.

Michael’s fists clench but he continues.

August 2003

Flint got his learner’s permit today. Dad is teaching him how to drive stick. Will probably even buy him a car to take back to school. I fucking hate Flint.

I wrote a poem or maybe a song that I actually like. Here it is:

‘The hallways are empty

And I am blind

Locked in this castle

Where no one is kind’

I know that’s not much. But it’s a start. Been saving up for my guitar. Greg is going to buy it for me once I have enough money.

September 2003

It’s because I’m gay. Why he beats me and no one else. I will try so hard not to be gay anymore.

Tears burn Michael’s eyes. He picks up another journal. This one gray with lots of cartoon doodles marring the cloth cover.

September 2007

Senior year has begun. The Academy finally feels bearable. No upperclassmen to avoid. My fucking dad has me flying out this weekend to interview at the Air Force Academy in Colorado. Fourth son, fourth branch of the military. None of us got a choice, but of course he saved the Air Force for me. Of fucking course.

I snuck out with Maria last week to sing at an open mic night at her mom’s bar. I’ve never felt like that before – enjoying all those eyes on me. Most times I just want to disappear. Forget I exist. There was a guy – curly hair, big hazel eyes. He was beautiful and I worked up enough to courage to talk to him, but he wouldn’t stop staring at Maria. So.

I guess someone at the Pony must have known my dad. Because he was waiting up for me when I crawled back through my bedroom window. I didn’t beg this time. Just let him do what he was going to do. Honestly, I felt like I deserved it. For thinking that guy might actually want to talk to me.

Michael stops breathing. He tries to recall a night at the Pony from fourteen years ago. But he can’t remember ever meeting Alex. He had dated Maria, briefly. Maybe it wasn’t him – maybe he wasn’t the curly-haired, hazel-eyed boy. But the possibility lingers thick in his chest.

December 2007

I’m not going home for Christmas. Even though mom has agreed to show up for appearance’s sake. A perfect fake fucking family. I won’t be missed. Dad laughed when I called and told him. Called me a coward and hung up. He won’t have his favorite punching bag and I hope that means he won’t turn his fists to someone else. Like mom.

Things with Danny haven’t progressed at all. I thought he was flirting with me at the football game, but he hasn’t talked to me since. He’s shy though – kind of like me – so I think I may still have a chance. He’s not going home either – his parents are overseas on some mission trip. Maybe I will be brave enough to kiss him. I’ve never kissed anyone and I’m already 17. Pathetic.

January 2008

Sometimes I look up at the stars

And your eyes look back at me

Filled with the fire of an exploding sun

Sometimes I look up at the stars

And there’s nothing there at all

Just empty space, hollow and undone

So, Danny is dating a townie girl. I’m always so, so stupid. But I’m not giving up on myself no matter how hard this world tries to beat me down. And it’s trying pretty damn hard.

March 2008

Dear Alex,

you are blue and black and yellow

bent and bowed like the dying myrtle tree outside that window

your pliant plentiful petals putrefying in the blades of summer grass

you are unseen and forgotten, disgraced by the midday sun

blown apart like the dandelion waste of suburban landscapes

wilted and wallowed and left without a trace of your own dignity

June 2008

My father’s hands have spent so much time taking. Splitting me open and unthreading the blood, the sweat, the tears of me. Spilling my insides and then stuffing the gore back deep in the darkest recesses of my heart.

I want hands that will take but give something back, leave something behind. Hands that will heal and stitch the splintered parts back together. Hands that will shape the dark edges of me into something bright like hope. I want hands with wings to fly me out of this nightmare.

But instead I’m going to war.

After Alex graduates the military academy, there are no more journals until 2017. Michael spends the next several hours poring over the earlier ones – meticulously kept records of a broken childhood. One abuse after another. Cracked ribs, a shattered wrist, and a never-ending deluge of bruises.

But also, so many dreams. Alex was a hopeful kid, despite the sad poetry, with music in his future. There are pages and pages of songs – the scratching down of harmonies and verses. Intricate details of chord progressions and key changes. Michael grabs his own guitar, strums through some of Alex’s notes. The songs are simple but refined. He wishes he could hear them sung with Alex’s voice.

The 2017 journal stares at Michael from his nightstand. It’s dirty and pocket-sized, bent and beaten at the edges. Caked in blood. He opens to the first page. Alex is in Iraq – the place where he dies – and Michael’s not sure he wants to read further. But he also can’t stop himself.

November 2017

The desert here is different. Hotter, I think. I am always sweating and never clean.

February 2018

There was a boy. In the carnage. Riddled with bullets. Bullets that may have been my own. I tried to feel something. I did, really. I tried.

March 2018

Only two more months. And then one war exchanged for another. Clay is getting married. I think I’d rather stay here.

The next several pages are stuck together with the dull, brown ink of dried blood. Michael can’t make out more than a word or two through the thick stains, but the entries seem longer and more rambling. The back half of the journal is empty – filled with nothing but blood splatter.

Michael pulls out his laptop. Something about the timeline feels off. Alex’s obit and his tombstone both marked his date of death as October 14, 2018. That’s months after this journal stopped. Months after whatever nightmare caused all this bleeding. He thinks briefly about calling Liz and asking her to ID whoever all this blood belonged to.

He googles ‘Alexander Manes Iraq death’ and nothing obvious pops up in the searches. But on the next page he sees a newspaper article from a Virginia paper, clicks it open. It’s from summer 2018 and includes a list of purple heart recipients. A Captain Alexander Manes among the names.

So, he made it home. Hurt but alive. Michael’s best guess is that he returned to Iraq before his death in October.

He runs several searches for Alex’s brothers. He gets a hit on a Gregory Manes. Local newspaper photo of him with several kids from a science fair. The school is near a reservation in the northwest corner of the state. He jots the information down but decides to start a little closer to home.

People in Roswell must know the Manes family. And so that’s where he’ll begin. Starting with local business owners. First thing in the morning.

#malex #malex fic #halloween fic #whatever walked there walked alone #i am reposting after my hissy fit #i like writing this #i really do #letting autumn come early this year

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avengemebuckyy · 4 years

Text

Be Careful

Summary:

You tell Bucky to be careful with your heart. Too late he realizes you should have been careful with his.

or:

You’re awkward,odd, and not the most conventionally attractive yet you’re the only woman that Bucky sees

Warnings: manipulation

Authors note: Back from the dead lmao. This is probably trash but I just needed to force myself to finish something it order to try to get back in the groove! Feedback is more than greatly appreciated, it’s what keeps me writing tbh...

PS. You ain’t shit in this lmao

---

You weren’t the most eye-catching. You didn’t look like the girls Bucky used to chase after in his younger years, or the girls on the internet he’d find himself staring at once he’d discovered Instagram, endlessly scrolling through picture after picture, lost in a sea of beautiful bodies and faces. You didn’t look like the tall slim blonde agent he’d always make a point to hold open the door for, or his neighbor’s daughter in Wakanda, who had had dark skin so smooth and a face so perfect he’d never managed to say more than two words to her.

You were slightly awkward, with a slightly odd sense of humor, always cracking jokes that sometimes no one laughed at but you. But you didn’t care, you would laugh at them all the same. You wore baggy clothes, and not the fashionable baggy kind either. Your favorite outfit was baggy camo print cargo pants and an old grey band t-shirt, logo so faded it was almost impossible to decipher.

At first Bucky didn’t pay you much attention. He wasn’t rude, but he treated you with the same gruff stoicism he treated everyone with. Well everyone besides Sam, Steve, and Natasha. Besides he only saw you rarely, you were a high level agent thanks to your skill, but you didn’t work closely with the team very often. Until you did.

One mission with Clint was all it took to have your name thrust forward when Fury was looking to fill a coordinator position. Suddenly you were everywhere. Coordinating their positions on missions, even going on missions with different members of the team. You fit in well with the team, your corny jokes and generally happy disposition make you easy to like. Your apartment was five minutes away, thanks to Tony, so you would often eat breakfast with the team and stay at the Tower well into the night, often crashing in a room designated for you, also thanks to Tony.

You were like a deceptively shallow river Bucky would think after. One minute he was wading through your shallows, next moment he was being taken under by your currents, realizing too late that he was in deeper than he thought possible.

It started slowly, you would make an effort to make conversation with Bucky, never seeming off put by his non answers. Bucky found himself coming to you with numerous questions on how to work social media, you would give such long winded explanations he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself with asking questions. Soon he found himself seeking you out for more than explanations. Funny thing is you were the one who introduced him to Instagram, to the beautiful women on the app but eventually he found himself unable to see any woman but you.

Bucky found himself sitting with you at lunch, looking out the window in the mornings waiting to catch sight of your army green jacket. He’d sit with you in the afternoons as you did your paperwork, steal glances at you ,your forehead always shiny by midday with an almost ever-present patch of acne, eyebrows scrunched together as you filled out mission reports. He loved those quiet moments the most. Bucky wasn’t good with words, not anymore. But he would help carry the 10 pound boxes of paperwork, always bring an extra pen in case yours ran out of ink, and constantly would bring you your favorite Starbucks order. He secretly hoped that you would read the affection behind his actions.

You didn’t usually go to Stark’s parties, you’d rather go to bars and clubs with your friends.

“The crowd at Stark’s parties just aren’t my crowd,” you’d explained with a shrug, toeing the floor with your scuffed sneakers. Bucky had nodded in understanding. They usually weren’t his crowd either, but he’d always go to support Steve, who was pretty much expected to show face.

But for some reason you show up to this party. Four months into your blossoming friendship (and Bucky’s crush). Bucky wasn’t prepared for what you were wearing. When he heard the agents whispering about your unexpected appearance at the party he half expected to see you in jeans and a t- shirt. Or even your cargo pants. At the sound of your name Bucky zeros into the muttered conversation.

“Did you see her?”

“Yeah, damn.”

“Was not expecting that. Or her to even show up. Who knew?”

“She’s kinda hot, not gonna lie. In a weird way”

Bucky turns his head scanning the crowd, heart rate already picking up, fully expecting to see your sweat-pant clad form. He sees you alright. But not in sweatpants. A red dress barely covers your figure. Hemline way above the halfway mark of your thighs and twin slits in the skirt reaching up to your hips. A draping halter neck ties at your neck and completely exposes your back and gives a generous view of your tits. He catches flashes of the curve of your ass as you walk.

In hindsight the dress was totally in line with your character. You didn’t dress the way you did because you were ashamed of your body but rather because you didn’t give a fuck. Your hair is pinned up, one perfect curl escaping your updo and kissing your neck. Bucky feels his heart stop. He spies numerous heads turning as you languidly weave through the crowd in dangerously thin stilettos. You cozy up to one of your agent friends and the two of you drink, giggle, and dance. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you.

When you head to the balcony he follows.

“Hey,” you say when you spy his shadow darkening the entrance to the balcony.

“Hey,” he gruffs, in a tone he fears is too quiet. But looking at the curve of your exposed back suddenly has his voice dying in his throat. You turn back to looking at the city skyline. Bucky steps forward next to you. Close. Closer than he’s ever been to you, painfully aware of your arms brushing. He can’t fully feel your skin through the long sleeve button down he’s wearing but the touch sets him on fire all the same.

“Needed some air. “ He eventually grumbles. Trying not to stare at your profile. You look at him then, wearing a sly expression he had never seen on you.

“I’m sure you did,”

After that it doesn’t take long for Bucky to gather up the courage after that. Maybe it’s the way you had looked at him on the balcony or the way both male and female agents were sniffing around you at the party. All the same about a week later Bucky finds himself heading to your office in the afternoon as usual, but this time holding a bouquet of flowers.

Afterwards Bucky falls in love with you hard and fast. He finds himself doting on you, taking you out, bringing you flowers and other tokens of his affection. He hears the whispers, it’s almost impossible not to with his super soldier hearing.

“How’d she’d get him,”

“What an odd couple,”

“The Winter Soldier’s with cargo pants?”

But he still holds your hand in public all the same. Stops in the middle of training recruits to kiss you whenever you happen to cut across the gym all the same. Keeps a picture of you in his wallet all the same.

Bucky has never felt this amount of care and comfort from a person since...ever, even before, in his other life. You put his boots by the heater in the winter when he sleeps over so his feet won’t freeze when he walks to the compound. You listen to him, even when he’s angry, raging at nothing, or when he’s sad and sullen, taking minute long pauses in between sentences. Or even when he wants to do nothing but sit in silence and hold you. You especially listen when his words come fast, tinged with self hatred. You reassure him, holding him like he’s fine china. After many late night musings you give him with the best present he’s ever gotten, an impossibly soft kitten who’s uncharacteristically loud purr always grounds him. Bucky finds himself able to open up with you in a way he can’t with anyone else, even Steve. Bucky’s not good with words anymore, but with you he’s amazing. He can’t stop singing your praises, lavishing you with sweet words and adoration.

In hindsight it was a warning.

“Sweetheart, your wallet must be screamin’ for mercy, with you buying this cake nearly everyday,” Bucky says pinching off a piece of the lemon pound cake which is almost always at the corner of your desk. He recognizes the cake from a bakery across the street, and knows its nearly four dollars a slice. You stretch cracking your back, nipples poking through your shirt. Your ever present band shirt had breathed its last breath, and this new shirt is thinner and cropped, and hugs your body closer.

“Not really, I don’t buy it, Tommy hooks me up” you say, shooting him a smile and then returning back to your paperwork.

“Tommy?” Bucky says, and unbidden hot jealousy sears through his chest at the mention of your coworker “He’s always buying you these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, not looking up, and Bucky tells himself to remain calm, unbothered.

He doesn’t.

Later after the subsequent fight and make up Bucky holds you as the two of you sit on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” He says again.

“It’s alright,” you say and somehow your simple words draw the truth out of him.

“I’m just...I- I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you too,” you confess, then pause “Bucky, please be careful with me,”

Your relationship was easy, comforting. The two of you almost never fought, and never grew tired of being with each other. One blissful year turned into two and then five. It was like a dream and Bucky never wanted to wake up.

But reality eventually did.

How closely you guarded your phone should have tipped him off. How you’d constantly declined calls while the two of you were together. The way you almost always got ‘too drunk’ on girls night and would end up crashing at your friend’s place.

The first time it’s sixth months into your relationship on a lazy Saturday. The two of you had ordered pizza and planned to cuddle on the couch and have a movie marathon. You were in the bathroom when your phone had vibrated. Knowing that you would get a notification when the pizza arrived Bucky had looked at your phone. Bucky had felt surprised to see the name Dominos instead of an unsaved number pop up on your screen. Your phone didn’t show the preview of the text like his did. Your phone was still unlocked since you had headed to the bathroom but a few seconds ago, so Bucky tapped to open the text.

Dominos: [Can’t wait to see you again, beautiful]

Bucky’s blood had run cold. He froze, only unfreezing when he realized you were standing next to him.

“We aren’t exclusive!” you had defended.

“What the hell do you mean?” Bucky had growled. At that your face had crumbled, eyes filling with tears.

“You never asked me to be your girl.” you had looked away “We never talked about what we are,”

“Whaddya think we’ve been doing these past months?!” Bucky had yelled back,

“ I don't know. I don’t assume Bucky. Because guys always seem to want to date me, treat me like their girlfriend and then turn around and throw it in my face that they never said I was.” your voice breaks and so does Bucky's anger. He hadn’t been very verbal with you so far. It’s true he never asked you to be his girl, or even verbally on a date. He just thought you both knew. Guilt fills him at the sight of your tear stained face.

“I’m sorry I was just preparing for the inevitable,” you say and turn away. Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Well, let me make it clear. I want you to be my girl. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

Your expression is unfathomable as you wind your arms around his neck.

“I am yours.”

That night you stand in front of Bucky and wordlessly slip out of your sweatpants and t shirt, rendering him speechless. With reverence Bucky’s hands trace your frame and his mouth follows. That night he worships you.

Later, you wrap your arms around him and whisper

“I love you,”

And Bucky knows that he’s done for.

“I love you too sweetheart.” he says, and later still when you’ve fallen asleep Bucky lies awake, stroking the soft contours of your back. He’s done for. And he knows it.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers.

Reality had tried to wake Bucky gently. Through warning signs that should have been loud and clear especially to an ex assassin. But Bucky had accepted your half baked truths and excuses. He was too far gone off of the drug that was your love to heed the warning signs until reality slapped him- no choked him, awake.

His awakening came in the form of the sight of you on your kitchen counter, a man kneeling in between your spread thighs. The flowers he had bought you on his way back from his mission that had ended early drop to the floor. Bucky freezes. But at the sight of Tommy’s face, cheeks slick with you he loses it. Next thing he realizes that he has his hands around your coworkers throat. But your hand on his shoulder drains the fight out of him, and as Tommy scrambles out of the apartment Bucky crumples to the floor and sobs.

“Why?” He asks and he realizes he’s not just asking about now, but about all the times he’s caught you cheating but didn’t have the strength to leave you.

“Baby” you say and gather him into your arms. He wants to pull away, thrash, yell, but he doesn’t. He just melts into your touch. You make him weak. And at night when he thinks about your excuses and half truths he hates himself for it.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he says, sobs wracking his frame “Five years-did they mean nothing to you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say “I love you,”

At this Bucky pulls away, standing. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” he hisses.

“I’m not,” you say standing “I might lie all the time but I’m not lying about this.” your eyes go soft at the corners, and start to water.

“No. I love you. I adore you. I’d give you anything-everything and you treat me like shit” Bucky spits, there’s a pain in his chest, his heart is breaking “And I just fucking take it, because you make me so fucking weak- and I hate it” another sob ribs from his chest. A part of him thinks that this is his punishment. For all of the terrible things he’s done. Cursed to be in love with someone who will never truly love him back. He looks at you, your hair is in disarray, baggy t shirt, those fucking cargo pants around your ankles. He gives a bitter laugh “Who woulda thought that you would’ve been the one to make me weak.”

“Why? Because I’m not pretty?” hurt flashes across your face then your eyes go hard. Usually Bucky would have been quick to refute any self deprecating words, reassuring you how beautiful he found you, how gorgeous you were. But now he just lifts his chin and looks back at you with the same hard eyes.

“Well I know I’m not pretty.” you shrug, face going strangely expressionless “But you still fell for me all the same. More fool you.” you say, and after a moment continue. “We should break up.”

At this Bucky shatters. Because he knows deep down that even after all of this he still would have taken you back. He still wants to grovel at your feet and plead to try to fix your relationship. But instead he decides to finally choose himself and turns and walks out of the door and out of your life.

Year later he still finds himself looking at your picture in his wallet, the one remnant of you he has left, that he can’t bear to get rid of. On lonely nights where he can’t sleep and can’t stand the coldness of his bed he’ll trace the curve of your smile and wish that you had cared enough to have been careful with him.

Tags:@stephie-senpai@ayeputita@pixierox101@iamwarrenspeace@ dreamgirljere @ufffg@pietrotheavenger @trinityjadec@abbytagg@wastedsummerss@turdblossommm@jimmyisfab@sev7en@hottrashformarvel @superbuckytrash@waidewilson@abbytagg @awkwardfangirl2014 @desir-ae

Bucky only @chamongangae@callmebucky-doll

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes #marvel angst #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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demon-winchester · 4 years

Text

Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 6

-Chapter 6- I entered the subway station... I did my research and apparently the safehouse was quite a bit closer using the subway than just walking. I finally reached the place but the door was nowhere to be found...A blank wall with some latin inscribed to it "Invented ad guy quis nulla" and I ran it through a translate app, it meant "to the guy who invented zero". What could she mean by that...I guess I can't ask her but maybe Lydia can provide me some insight.

I started dialing up the numbers. "Well hello, that was fast" she answered her phone. "Yeah... I ran into a problem and maybe your unlimited brilliance can help me" I replied. "Oh, you're making me blush....Don't be sarcastic just tell me what you need help with" she said and i could imagine her smiling from the tone of her voice. "Alright so, does the sentence "To the guy who invented zero" mean anything to you?" I continued. "Ummmmm I can't say it does" she answered confused. "Nothing at all?" i kept asking. "Well no genius it's literally a random sentence for me" she chuckled. "Alrighty then, well, thanks for nothing" and as i said that a door started appearing and I started laughing. "What happened?" Lydia asked. "This bitch used a pun to keep her entrance shut....To the guy who invented zero, thanks for nothing." i answered basically on the floor laughing about the situation and i was CERTAIN that Lydia was rolling her eyes. "Okay, I will have to let you go now, I have some research I need to do...maybe we'll talk later" I continued. "Alright, ciao" she said and we closed the call. Now then...time to find Touch, Lien HQ and Red Tiger. After a couple of hours of research I came to a conclusion...Finding a shapeshifter would be really time draining, demons sound like a tough foe at this time so vampires it is. I'll sleep for a couple of hours and then time to head to Touch! I set up an alarm for three hours, I put on some music *Wasteland by Neoni starts playing*, I laid down on the couch and i started drifting away. I suddenly woke up in a strange city.

There was nobody around me, it felt desolated, the buildings were almost destroyed and the place was covered with sand...it reminded me of the desert i thought. I looked around and I saw a woman standing behind me. It was Circe, the dream version of her. I approached. "I guess your help is needed again"she smiled. "We need to start meeting under better circumstances" i smirked. "That is quite true Aiden" she answered, "I believe you chose Touch....That was quite the decision, Sylvia will tell you what you need to know and it's time for you to leave i believe" she concluded and the alarm started ringing. I got up, I took a bath and i started getting ready. Black boots,black jeans,dark red shirt,grey jacket,earrings, rings, chain and i was ready to go. Suddenly the phone started ringing and it was Lydia. "Hey, watch up" i said answering the phone. "Sup dude, what is your superhero ass doing" she said snarkily. "Oh shut up" I replied "Just getting ready to go to a club". "Ohhh spicy...I didnt know the job description had partying" she said. "Yeah of course.... You know i hate these places, you dont have to be an ass about it" I said laughing it off. "So tell me, how come you go then?" she asked. "I mean, i am still searching for Circe..plus i need my sword back if I am to have a chance." i answered. "Okay wait for me, im coming with you" she said. "Oh stay where you are love, you aint coming with me, shit could get really bad really fast" i said to her with a watchfull tone. "And that's exactly why i'm coming, you need support from a friend when shit gets down" she pridfully replied. "No offence but if something bad happens the only friend i need is a fucking nuke so sorry not sorry, you're staying where you are" i said. "You know how much i hate you sometimes don't you?" she complained. "Well let me prove you otherwise, let's say i owe you a coffee..how does that sound?" I teased her. "Just that?...No deal, you still suck" she chuckled. "A coffee aaaand i'll have you on comms while i go to the club...i could really use a friend on a sucky place" i said wih a small smile. "It's Saturday night and you think i'll stand by on comms and keep you company?.... You are absolutely right" she replied and i could almost see her smile. "Fantastic just an fyi though, since it's kind of undercover i won't be able to answer you every time...just so you wont get worried"i said. "Alright" she replied. It was time to go. "Let's find Sylvia" i thought to myself while passing by the bouncer and he didn't seem amused. I was walking down the corridor, it was like a small tunnel leading to the entrance. The walls had some kind of fur, people leaning on them, some laughing, some puking, some staring. Purple and pink lamps lit the whole place and they made it feel like a fever dream. "These are going to be a bitch to walk through while drunk" I uttered silently. Following the music i arrived to the main room opening the doors.The room was gigantic. Glass panels were on the roof, cages with dancers inside them and a door on the other side of the room,the boss's room I thought. People were dancing, drinking and having fun... these places were never my kind of thing. I sat on the bar and I ordered a red wine. " A wine on a club....either a meeting or you're just boring" said the barwoman handing me my glass. "Maybe both, maybe neither" i said taking a sip. "So tell me what else do you do except pouring drinks and judging people darling." I continued. "ohhh the barwoman....spicy" Lydia said through the comms. "A man being just a bit of an asshole and not a full fledged one, a rare kind these days but nevertheless don't try hitting on the barwoman, you never know what she'll pour on your drink kid" said the barwoman with a wink. "I dont mix bussiness with pleasure unfortunately" i said. "Are you sure unfortunately is the right word?" the barwoman said interrupting me. "Ouchhh ruthless but i'll let it pass. Tell me though, do you know a woman called Sylvia? I heard she's running this place" i continued. "And who wants to talk to her?" said the barwoman. "Circe" I replied. "You don't really seem like a Circe but you do you, i'll go get her for you" the barwoman said smiling and she started leaving. " So, is hitting on the barwoman part of the undercover mission?" Lydia said. "Well no but if you form a small connection with a person, even someone who doesnt know your name, they are more likely to help you." i answered taking a sip of the wine. "I am so fucking sure you drank a bit of wine after saying that just too feel smart" Lydia said annoyed and I almost chocked from laughing. "Okay shhhhh i think she's coming" i said wiping wine of my face. "Oh you sir are not Circe" said the woman.

"Hello. sorry for using this name but i need to talk to you...somewhere more privately" i said in an apologetic tone. "Haha, no" she groaned. "Im sorry, what?" i asked. "What you just heard. You think you can barge in here and use her name?!" she said. With that she extended her arm, she hit me on my chest and I was now put up against the wall with the drinks. You could hear the shattering of the bottles and the whole place smelled of expensive vodka. I tried to move her hand but she was still keeping me there. She started hitting me again and again. "Why" was all I could mutter through the hits. "Why?!?!?!" she asked angry. "You barge in my club uninvited and you refer to yourself as Circe. You degenerate, you should've known what using this name in here would've caused you! ". She dropped me down and I could hear Lydia talking worried through the comms. "And who is your little friend talking to you." Sylvia continued. She took the Bluetooth out of my ear and she continued hitting me. "You leave her out of this" I screamed and she started laughing while kicking me in the face. "You dare talk to me like that inside my own domain you filth! I am the queen of the vampires and when I talk you bow! Now it's time to find your friend...." she said. I couldn't let this happen. I summoned my armor, I was still wounded wearing it but I had no choice. "Ugh, i never liked reapers... I knew that horrid musk was coming from you, I could smell you before you entered." she groaned. "Ohhh and I just had a bath before coming here... I'm gonna write a strongly worded email to the shampoo company" I said spilling while blood and looking at her with a smile. "We have a witty one today...They tend to taste a bit bitter. So you think you're funny?" she said. "What can I say, a jester fit for a queen" I continued with a stupid grin. And with that she kicked me on the stomach, at this point I could taste my own blood. "You'll show respect when I talk to you!" she yelled and she continued hitting me. "I'll break you tonight and I'll wipe that stupid smile off your face even if I have to sew your mouth shut" she continued with an evil grin. She grabbed me by the neck and she held me up."TURN OFF THE MUSIC" she yelled, silence befell the room and everyone was looking at her "THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS TO ANYONE WHO DISRESPECTS ME!" she screamed and you could see all the people saying "yes miss" with fangs in their mouths. I walked right into a nest. Circe had told me that but I thought normal humans would be among them.How many people are actually Accursed..... Suddenly one of the bouncers opened the doors, wounded and horror itself swam throughout his eyes. A black whip emerged from behind him, wrapping him and dragging him right before our eyes... His screams suddenly stopped.

#fantasy #dark fantasy #darkfantasy #dark fic #dark #supernatural #fanfiction #fanfic #book #fiction #books #writing #writers

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the-wintershade · 4 years

Text

— the sun goes down; he takes the day, but I’m grown

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: you meet him once at your favorite place and assume that you won’t meet him again, regardless of how good the conversation was, but alas, fate always seems to have other plans. wc: 6.8k+ (no self-control and I actually planned this series out) genre: slightly angsty, flirting, good banter, medium burn

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 01

The room buzzes with the clanking of machines, snippets of conversation, and the quiet energy of caffeine tapping into the bloodstream, feet tapping against floors, legs bouncing uncontrollably. It would be lying if you claimed that you didn’t appreciate the white noise of it all. You could be standing in line, absentmindedly admiring the mahogany walls with original artwork in monotone shades and not worrying about seeming aloof or cold.

This whole establishment was a piece of artwork, something to be admired by anyone who endeavored to traverse the outrageous traffic and lack of parking in New York. It gave you a sense of home and comfort among the noise, the energy vibrating through the air calming any rising anxieties.

You ordered your usual and stood, your computer bag slung over your shoulder and a light jacket hanging around your frame. It only took a few seconds to get your drink ready as they slid it across the metal counter, your name written in jagged script. “Started working as soon as I saw you walk in.” Mark, one of the baristas, smiles at you and you flash him a thankful grin back. “Where would I be without you?”

He only smirks, returning to the espresso machine and preparing the next drink. Your first sip is heavenly, flavors traveling across your tongue at a lightning fast pace and blending into a richness and warmth that can only be attributed to the feeling of this place. Safe and comforting, inviting and welcoming.

You pick your usual seat, right up against the wall, resting against the wood that acts as a divider between the line and the seating area. The tables are all carved from trees with a cherry veneer whipped across before a sealing, clear coat. You run your fingers against the surface, searching for any lingering crumbs, but also to take in the feel, the smooth gloss against your hands, the sturdiness against your fingertips.

Somehow you wish you could take the emotions that rise as you come into this place with you as you go home, but you can’t. The only thing you can do is savor it all as you do the same thing every time you come in.

You zip open your computer bag and pluck your laptop from its case, setting it on the table and waiting for it to boot to life. It whirls and displays a start up screen as you take another couple of sips of your drink, trying to make the cup last for the next hour or so you’ll spend here, glancing out the window at passing traffic.

It’s a pain to find parking—you had to park a good way down the block just to make it here—but it’s all worth it. Just for this. Just for the feeling of sitting here and admiring the light outside as it splashes against the buildings, swathing them in wonderfully rich whites and browns and blues. The sunlight reflects against cars and shining sequins, its rays spreading every which way with its brilliance.

It’s wonderful.

Then your computer finally finishes its load up sequence as you dig around for your earbuds, fishing them out to plug into your phone, opening up a calming playlist as you click the web browser on your computer.

Today’s topic will be about how light plays an integral role in the consumer’s experience between the home and their enjoyment they get from it. You’re not a realtor per-say, but you have a deep respect for architecture and how it connects with people.

Just like this coffee shop is comforting to you, you wonder what are the elements that make buildings enjoyable for other people. Is it the light? Is it the noise level? Is it the people and culture that a building attracts? The location?

So in order to explain these questions, you’ve kept lists of them, stored on the hard drive of your phone in a note keeping app. Then, you come here, the place outside of your home that you enjoy coming to and focus an hour of your time on researching these things, discovering answers to problems and questions that need solutions.

It’s relaxing, lets you get away from some of the problems that you might be having in daily life, like work or in your relationship. It gives you time to delve into something that doesn’t relate to you personally, gives you another subject to focus on while you strive to find those answers about personal issues that you can’t quite come up with yet.

Your music is calming, the various voices speaking around you fading away as you open ebook after ebook, article after article, searching for responses and research that points to a connection between light allowed in the house and customer satisfaction. Surveys come up, testimonials offered, research specialists all weigh in on the topic and you ravage through it all.

The explanation of the connection between sunlight and serotonin can’t be denied and even without the research, you’d be able to tell people that, yes, you’re much happier when out in daylight and fresh air. You feel better. The science is there to back it up, but what happens when architecture is applied?

What about the location of the home? The size of their windows? Where on earth they live?

What if they explored this furt-

“Hello.” The voice sounds foggy and far away and you draw an earbud out of your ear, gazing out of your article to find someone actually standing in front of you. “Sorry to distract you, but is this seat taken?” He gestures at the seat in front of you.

You spare a glance around the restaurant for half a second and observe the empty tables lingering all around you, wondering why he would want to sit right in front of you when there’s all that space lingering around.

You nod, slowly, with apprehension, and scoot back to allow for more shared leg room. “Thanks.” He sits down as you write a few more notes onto a notebook you slipped out of your bag a few minutes ago, trying to keep your place and appear busy to him.

If he were to try to strike up a conversation, at least you’d remember where you were and what you still needed to look up, but if he saw you writing furiously with that pen like your life depended on it, maybe he would leave you to your work.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

“Do you always sit here?” He sips on his drink encased in a white mug, sunglasses still resting over his eyes. His voice is kind, but holds weight to it, like he’s trying to pull you out of what you’re working on. You’re not rude, so you appease him.

“Yeah, it’s kind of my spot.” You smile and close your laptop, taking away the temptation to keep searching and just ignore him. You sip your drink in your paper cup and lean back, placing your pen back on the notebook, about ready to put your stuff away.

“Interesting.” He sits forward, pushing the sunglasses out of his eyes, the deep chocolate of them apparent to you now, not that you were looking that hard in the first place. You tell yourself that you definitely weren’t looking that hard. Or that you noticed the slight abrasions on his leather jacket. “You’re not the first to claim this table.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you take a sip to hide your shock. “This is your spot too?”

“Clever girl.” He leans back and observes you and you laugh at his nonchalant approach to the situation. “Though, I do accept company every now again. Good to allow the table some exposure.”

“How gracious of you.” You muttered over the lid of the coffee cup while the stranger just smiles at you, appreciating your joke and humor in the situation. “I bet Rachel loves being introduced to new people.”

“How do you know her name?” He fakes surprise, setting down his mug. You nearly burst out laughing at his expression, all twisted with his mouth and eyes wide open. “That was supposed to be our little secret.”

“Well I happen to know Rachel pretty well, thank you very much.”

“I can see.” He narrows his eyes and leans back, looking down at the table as he shakes his head. “No loyalty.” He sips his drink, foam sticking to his lip. “Where’s the trust?”

You giggle and hand him one of your napkins, pointing to your upper lip. He gives his thanks as he wipes away the evidence.

You check your watch and jump at the time it reads. You were supposed to leave five minutes ago, planning to meet up with Bucky just down the block. Hastily, you grab your notebook, pen, and earbuds and stuff them into the right pockets.

“Blowing this joint, huh?” He acts cool but you see the curiosity lingering behind his eyes and you stop for a second.

“Um...yeah. I’m late to meet someone.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

You slide your laptop back into the bag. “No, but thank you. I appreciate it.” You grab your jacket from the booth beside you and slide it over your shoulders, the material scratching against your skin. “Take care of Rachel for me.”

You slide your bag over your shoulders and begin to walk out when he stops you. “Hey, Coffee Girl.”

You turn and smile at him. “Yes, table parent?”

“When do you think we can discuss more options about custody over the table?” His smile is warm and there’s something else underneath. Something you don’t recognize, something that sounds like intrigue. You haven’t seen someone look at you with that in, well, a while. It nearly scares you right out of your skin.

“I’m..” Your voice begins to falter and you hang onto your coffee cup just a little tighter. Not out of a general fear of him, he seems really sweet and kind, but for yourself. No one, no one, ever looks at you like that. “I’ll probably be here, next week.” You manage to get out. “Same time.”

“Hmm.” He watches your demeanor change and his smile becomes less beaming, more soft and subtle. “May I ask for a number.” Your face erupts with astonishment, eyebrows shooting up. “Just to confirm, of course.” He adds, trying to placate your sharp change in expression.

“Um…” You look around to see people watching you and notice how awkward the situation is becoming. Closing your eyes for a brief second, you open them to see his smile now gone and replaced with confusion. “I’ll meet you here again and then I’ll swap digits.”

“Okay.” He nods, seeming still confused. “Have a good one.”

You want to punch yourself in the gut.

“Yeah. You too.” You turn away and nearly run out of the coffee place, the bell ringing like a gong of judgement as you swing the door open just a bit too hard.

There was going to be nothing wrong with giving that man your number, nothing at all. There was just...just this feeling of overwhelming disbelief and a deep piercing sorrow at the fact that he wanted your number at all.

You didn’t see the conversation swerving in that direction. You liked him, thought he was great to talk to and seem genuinely interested and intrigued by what you were saying, but the thought of him having a deeper interest terrified you.

Because he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

He didn’t know what a bore you were, let alone how uninteresting you could be.

He wouldn’t be happy with someone like that. How could he be? He was the sun and you would only swallow him in shadow, drowning out his humor and smile and inescapable light.

He would die with you by his side.

He doesn’t want you, not really, because he doesn’t know you. Because he would be horrified by you.

….

“Hey, doll!” His eyes light up as he sees you, crinkling in the corners as he opens his arms wide to trap you within his embrace.

You loved when the bright blue of his eyes did that. Their shape turns into splits and his happiness seems to vibrate from his gaze into you, warming you up, making you feel alive. His arms are sturdy and warm, safe and bracing. You don’t feel like you could ever fall with him by your side.

But he smelt foreign to you, like jasmine and lavender. He always smelled like fresh pine and the forest. It was the thing you always loved about him.

He was corrupted, but he was still beautiful. Still the Bucky you knew.

“How are you?” He kept his hands resting on your arms, drinking you in, smiling down at your grinning figure.

“Good. Are you ready to go?” He nods, slipping his hand in yours. “Where’d you go today?” You stare at your linked hands and grin, not noticing the way his mouth turns into a fine line before a small, pretend smile takes its place.

“Oh, just to the gallery down the street.” Your eyes snap to his and for just a split second, hurt crosses your features before you smooth it over. It all comes back to the gallery. Every single thing.

But if you ignore it, maybe he’ll still be happy with you, happy with the way things are. If you try to fuss about it, he’ll run away or get angry, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to see him upset. He’s not very reasonable when upset.

He seems to see how your face changes and silence takes hold as you walk down the street filled with warmth and sunlight. Although you feel his heat bleed into your hand, you feel as if you’re next to an iceberg, a stranger, someone you want to put distance between, not someone you feel you love.

Bucky shifts, reaching for something to soothe your hurt. “Come on, doll. Don’t be like that.” He laughs, and you try hard to believe him, to fill the air with your warm giggles, but you can’t. You're physically unable to. “She’s just a friend.”

Liar.

She’s not just a friend, no matter how much he tries to convince you. You don’t have any evidence to support your theory, not any true evidence that he can’t refute, but you know a bold faced lie when you hear one.

That’s why you try to be good, be interesting, because maybe being interesting will bring him back to you, back to your side.

He’s here now, but he’s never really here. He’s not as devoted to you as you are to him, but that’s your fault. You’re just not good enough for him, but you could be better. You can be better. You just have to show him.

You just have to hold on. Just give him a chance. Show him how exciting you can be.

Taking in a healthy breath of air, you sigh. “Right.” You shake your head as if you’re trying to clear these treacherous thoughts from your mind. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” You smile at him, as much attempting to convince him as you are trying to make it all right in your head. This is the correct way to handle things. This is how you pull him back. Just forgive and move on.

He relaxes at your acceptance, deflating at your calmed hostility. “You know you’re the only one for me.”

“I know, Bucky.” You rub his arm and his happiness is not as apparent as his serenity over solving the previous conflict. He presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to your head, leaving an impression there that makes your skin crawl, but these feelings will dissipate as time goes on.

Time will heal everything.

“You still remember that party tonight?” He drawls, as if proud that he’s secured an invitation. The party is for his friend at the art gallery, a celebration of her achievements. It’s supposed to be a small gathering, but with how many people were there at her opening, you would be shocked if the numbers were really that low.

You nod, leaning away from how Bucky’s face hovers so close to you. “Yep. I remember. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” He pulls you closer and you would be lying if you didn’t feel your stomach warm, butterflies recklessly taking flight without fear of slamming into the lining around your gut.

Your chuckle isn’t quite a lie and Bucky catches on to your honesty, seeming to grow taller and believing himself completely absolved from all original misdeeds.

Then you hit him with your next topic. “A man tried to get my number today. At the coffee shop.”

He stops walking completely, his arm falling from around your shoulders. “He did what?” His voice is tightly coiled, ready to spring at any moment.

You keep walking, not waiting to see what his face would look like. You know his brows are well furrowed and eyes are dark, devoid of any lighthearted fun. They’re not the blue of a gentle stream but a churning and violent ocean.

“Oh, come on, Bucky. I said tried. I didn’t give it to him.” You roll your eyes in front of him, turning to hold an arm, beckoning him forward and into your arms. He doesn’t move. You stop and cross your arms over your chest.

“Don’t tell me that you did this to make me jealous.” His words carry bite, but they fall harmlessly from your frame made of metal and steel. Impenetrable. After what you’ve seen and know, nothing he could say or do to you could truly harm you.

“That’s rich, considering he asked me.”

He sees that his tone has no affect on you and stalks closer, ignoring your arm that now begins to fall back into its place by your side. “But you won’t go back there, right?” He grins, malice and hope curling together, like he wants to lure you into a complete false sense of security, urging you to agree. “You know how I don’t want anyone else stealing you away from me.”

He drips with imitation honey and you’re too smart to believe the gold of it is real. “Bucky, you know that’s my spot.”

“And I’m telling you, (name), that you can’t go back there.” His teeth make each syllable sharper and harsher, but it doesn’t scare you.

But maybe if you back off, get him to stop fighting, he’ll just let this one go. You only told him just to make him aware, not to cause a real argument. This isn’t worth turning into a complete debacle. You’re not going to allow his anger to grow any larger.

“You can’t stop me from going there, but I won’t go back at the same time or on the same days. I probably won’t even bump into him again. It was the first time I’ve ever seen him there anyway.” You turn, holding out a hand to him that he takes and squeezes so hard your hand aches when he relaxes his grip.

“But,” He drills holes in the side of your head. “If you see him again, tell me.”

“Sure thing, oh great shining knight.” You nod fervently, like you’re completely devout to him. And in a way you are. There’s something about him that keeps you just hanging on, refusing to let him go completely.

He laughs with acid behind it. “You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He looks wounded as you spare a glance at him. “He might try to take advantage of you.”

“Well good thing you’re here then.” Your face adapts to pure happiness, his concern for you starting to trump all of these horrible things you’re beginning to feel. It always makes you feel important and wanted when his protectiveness jumps out, his vulnerability unlocking something in you.

He grins just as strongly back at you, gently running circles over your hand. “What did he look like?”

“Bucky!”

“What?” He holds up his other hand, looking like he can’t understand what he’s done wrong. “I need to be ready in case you call.”

“Well I’m not the damn police. I wasn’t really looking that hard.”

“Oh cut that out. I know you got a good look at him.”

You sigh, thinking of a way to get out of having to actually answer his questions without him becoming angry again. You can’t, so you give him crumbs. “He had brown eyes, darker skin. Sunglasses.”

“Doll, I know you can do better than that.” He smirks but it’s strained.

He doesn’t believe you.

“Not really.” And that’s kind of the truth. You weren’t really paying attention to his attire, besides the rip in his jacket. “I wasn’t really paying that much attention to him. Research remember?”

“Hm.” He consents. “I’ll give you that.”

You breath out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“But just remember to call me, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Doll.” He stops, turning to gaze deep into your eyes.

“Okay.” You hold up your hands and cross your fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

He searches your gaze for just the inkling of a false statement and doesn’t find it. “Alright. I trust you, doll. Don’t make me regret it.”

You nod, your stomach feeling just a little sicker as your hands rejoin and the sun begins to set, the buildings turning a deep shade of crimson.

…

The party is more like a college frat palooza than a respectable meeting for supporters of a budding artist. Red solo cups line the room and the kitchen is stocked with all sorts of wine, tequila, whiskey, and bourbon.

Drinks for respectable people, of course.

Bucky already has a buzz going from taking two shots of whiskey before you even came to pick him up. You insisted on driving so he could enjoy the full effects of the alcohol before you even made it to the party. Somehow that BS worked and he was getting a little loopy and handsy before you made the door.

His hand now rested at a respectable place on your hip, but you had to keep his hand from drooping lower and lower. Now, his arms spread wide as he saw his red-haired friend, wrapping her into a hug and placing a bottle of rose into her hands. He spun out his congratulations in a slur of wonderfully crafted and charming phrases to which she blushed deeply at, at least until she saw you.

“Willow, this is (name).” He gestured back towards you and you stepped forward, shaking her hand with a polite smile on your face. Even her name was beautiful. Figures he would choose her.

Her smile was nice enough, but her eyes still dragged back to him, lingering on his beautiful face and warm eyes. Of course, any one would be drawn to him, you would be a fool if you ignored that, but there was just something a little too warm and knowing behind her stare. Like she was blushing at meeting her long-lost childhood love again.

It made you slightly sick but you ignored it and tried to send her your best in the only way you knew how. Words that weren’t quite a lie but still sounded nice. For the most part. “Congrats on your art display. Your work is very colorful and has a really cool avant-garde aspect to it. You really could be on to something, Willow.” You winked at the end and she laughed, seeming to take your compliment well.

“Thank you. I know it’s not super conventional, but I hope it opens a new interpretation into art.”

“I’m sure it will.” Yeah, if you’re a lunatic or a complete believer in work that makes absolutely no sense.

She grins and the room erupts in starlight. Her smile is like starting at jewels under direct light, beautiful and dazzling. No wonder everyone seems to gravitate to her. You start to fold inward while Bucky dismisses you, telling you to “make yourself comfortable” and “introduce yourself to people.”

You nod and immediately make a B-line to the corner, standing away from all of the people in overly priced clothing and drinking strongly proofed wine. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy a good bottle of wine or even something stronger from time to time, but if you had ever learned anything from being in college, it’s that if you’re unsure of drinking something while you’re there, don’t drink it.

You briefly wonder if there’s a regular can of pop to be seen in this place.

Then you look at your surroundings, admiring the wood of the walls, the accent tapestries adorning them and then start to think that this girl might have good taste. The current tapestry you observe has burgundy and gold blended together in a beautiful amalgamation and you play with the strands between your fingers. It’s soft and strong, wonderfully crafted.

The wood behind it is hard and sturdy, easy to run your fingers along and feel the stronger edges behind every cut. It’s beautiful. A good selection.

But there’s almost no windows. No light. No opportunity for incorporating the day with the dark atmosphere her home carries.

“(Name)! Come over here.” You sigh, peeved by your disturbance from being silent in your corner. You follow his voice till you’re beside him, letting him put an arm around your shoulders. “I want you to meet, Chris Tallow. He designed this place.”

Chris was probably one of the most famous architects in the whole state. Standing in front of him made your knees wobble. “Hello, nice to meet you.” You timidly were able to get out and he smiled warmly at you, reaching out to shake your hand.

“James tells me that you’re quite the architectural connoisseur.” He grins and you nod, enthusiastically.

“I love your work! It’s ingenious and visionary. It’s amazing how you’re able to work with multiple mediums and incorporate them seamlessly.” The words pour out of your mouth before you’re able to stop them, now embarrassed at your unrestrained confession.

“Girl knows her stuff.” He seems impressed and appraises you accordingly.

“She’s quite the fan-girl.” Bucky laughs, pulling you a little closer. “She’s obsessed with buildings, sometimes in neglect of other things.”

You almost glare at him, but then you remember where you are and who you’re in front of, so you let out a reserved snicker and unwrap yourself from around him, Bucky a little uneasy on his feet. “Nice to meet you. Bucky you want anything to drink?” You look at him expectantly, but he just leans in and presses a kiss on your cheek, waving his cup.

You dismiss yourself again, frustrated with how he brushed your passion off like that.

You travel back to the kitchen, right about to pop the lid open again when you see the man from the cafe, staring you down. You duck under the table and try to catch your breath after the lightning bolt that went firing through your veins. What in the world is he doing at the flighty girl’s party? How does he even know her?

“Nothing you’re gonna want is in there.” He states plainly, but not in a rude way, just in a I-don’t-think-you’re-the-beer-type kind of way.

He would be right. “Oh,” You stand up, wiping the condensation on the fabric of your jeans, “Right.”

He watches you with such an unabashed directness that you can hardly breathe. He’s dressed in a tan leather jacket that sets off his deep red sweater and dark jeans nicely, pulling against his strong physique. He’s still as bright as you remember him to be and you’re lost as to what to say to him to continue the conversation.

The mystery man seems just as distracted until he sets down his coke to reach into the fridge to pull out another one for you, handing it to you politely, fingers sparking as you hands graze. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You mutter as you crack the can open and take a long sip, needing a distraction from the man in front of you and your growing unsteadiness around him. At least you have something in your hands that you can cling onto. “I didn’t think that opening a cold one with the boys would be the smartest thing I could do.”

He chuckles, warmth pouring out of him. “Me neither.” He leans against the counter as you drink, surveying the party and drawing his eyes away from you for a moment. It’s a relief as you still don’t think you’re going to be able to think straight. “Not one for parties?”

“What gave it away?” You speak, your voice warbling after your drink and you try to steady it, cringing heavily at its harsh quality.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “In the corner. Where I usually take up my post.”

“Oh, don’t tell me the sunglasses aren’t a hit?” You lean next to him and his eyes graze yours with a twinkle. You smile back as his teeth shine against the hazy lighting the string of lights behind you provide.

“Well,” He leans a little closer, bumping his shoulder with yours. “I’ll give you a hint. It might not be the sun glasses.”

You gasp.

“I know. I know.” He chuckles taking another sip, still grinning at your reaction. You feel a warmth start to spread and fight down the urge to lean closer, to prompt him with far more personal questions. “It’s hard to believe that all this could be such a mood-killer.”

“You know, full disclosure, I do find that a bit startling.” You watch as he looks to you with perplexity and something deeper. You ignore the warmth again as you explain yourself. “I mean, come on, you’re hilarious.”

“Okay, Coffee Girl, what’s your excuse?” It’s your turn to be bamboozled. “You’re funny and intelligent and witty. Why aren’t you out there killing the game? These people would be on the floor if they heard you.”

You look down at your drink, taking effort to pull your eyes away from his deep orbs, keeping you from falling in. You take a deep gulp before you think about answering. He sobers up at your actions and watches gently, waiting for response.

He’s not so demanding as Bucky, watching you with soft interest not with blatant scrutiny. You actually feel like you can talk with him and not be judged by your responses. You decide to take the leap. “I have a deflector for that.” You tip your coke towards your “plus one” that’s so absorbed in what strawberry is saying that he doesn’t even notice you talking with the man whose name you still don’t know.

“Ah.” He sighs, swirling his drink around, his energy collapsing. “Your boyfriend.”

You turn to him and watch him pointedly avoiding your eye, searching around the room without settling on an object.

His words sting for whatever reason and you feel that you need to correct him, stop him from getting the wrong impression. That you need to make him understand. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly?” He scoffs, taking another swig.

“I mean that we’re not together, together. Yes, I came with him. Yes, I’ll probably leave at some point with him to stop him from passing out on the street dead drunk, but we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything like that.” You don’t look at his face as he turns to you, knowing he’s trying to find any evidence of deceit.

“Was that who you were meeting after leaving the shop?” He’s open, asking for honesty.

“Yes.” You look at him then, taken aback at the unabashed staring he’s doing, not even looking away as he observes you with such a gentle intensity, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. He’s wrong, but the way he’s looking would convince you otherwise.

“Okay.” He drinks again, placing the empty cup down on the table. “So, this boyfriend of yours doesn’t let you speak to any guy in any sort of flirting fashion?”

“More or less.” You wash more cold liquid down your throat as he looks away and scoffs. “What?” You prompt, genuinely interested.

“He’s one of those types.”

You purse your lips but say nothing.

“As he should be. You’re so unaware of yourself.”

You almost choke, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he grabs another coke from the fridge and pops it open. You look around the party and find Bucky and Willow conveniently absent. What a host. Doesn’t even make sure she sticks around to receive guests.

A pang settles against your chest as he comes to lean beside you on the counter, a little closer than normal. He must read your expression as he looks around for them as well and his face settles into disdain when he can’t spot them either, looking back at you. “You know, you never told me your name.”

You chuckle and take another drink, finishing it and placing it next to his original empty one. “You first.”

“Okay,” He turns and offers you his hand. “Sam. Friends call me Falcon.”

“Quite the nickname you have there, Sam.” You take his hand and shake it, feeling the buzz shoot through your arm at the contact and try to ignore how your skin heats up.

He doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at you. “Your turn,” He manages after a while, a miniature smirk taking his face, much different from his usual open grins.

“(Name),” You breathe back, trying to act confident. “But people call me Coffee Girl, sometimes.”

“Oh?” He grins fully this time, unconsciously holding your hand still. “Your good friends?”

“Maybe.” You coyly offer and his eyes light up with challenge.

He laughs to himself as he finally lets your hand go, searching through the crowd again. “I saw you admiring that woven work on the wall over there.” He nods his head in the direction of the tapestry.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “It’s got great hand work. One of the finest I’ve seen.”

“Are you a collector?”

“Not really. Just a fan, I guess.” Your tone drops at the end. Sam looks at your dismal expression, eyes wondering. He searches a second more and then drops the topic. You stand close to each other, the heat wafting from your thin shirt meeting the warmth coming from the collar of his jacket and you take it all in.

The noise of the party seeming far away from the space that you and Sam have created. It’s peaceful and comforting. It feels like the coffee shop.

Guilt rises at the way you left, at the plans to avoid him completely. Because of Bucky. Because of a man that is overly jealous over the slightest things.

You clear your throat. “Um, Sam. I want to apologize to you.”

“Why, (name)?” Warmth crackles down your midsection at the use of your name and wonder if your usage affected him similarly.

“When I left at the cafe, I wasn’t the kindest and know I made you feel terrible for approaching me.” You watch as he grins and lose your nerve and silence yourself.

“If I felt terrible, do you think I would have come over? Even when you hid from me?” You cringe and he laughs harder.

“I’m sorry.” You peak out of the corner of your eye and watch him laugh even harder. Your laughs mix for a couple of a seconds, a beautiful symphony, comfortable and happy. “I just…” You hold onto the counter, propping yourself up a little. “I’m just not used to that kind of attention.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t look at you with pure adoration in his eyes?” He takes a sip and then frowns when you stay silent. “(Name)?” You can’t look at him as you play with your fingers. “Oh.”

“Yeah...” You weave your left fingers around your right pinky, trying to calm your heart down after your confession and the feeling of intense shame about ready to spill over.

“I’m sorry, if I made you feel uncomfortable.” He carries his words with a look of sincerity and you feel awful for making him feel as though he needs to apologize.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just out of practice, that’s all.” You look down. “I’m not good with that sort of thing, you know?” You glance over to see his eyes are already on you, electricity threatening to shoot between you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.” But he doesn’t look away, just moves a little closer. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you reconsider that number thing? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I’m just showing my interest.”

You can tell.

And something in you tells you that he’s definitely trustworthy, someone worth giving your number to. He just has this draw and for a moment, you forget about Bucky completely as you watch Sam. You nod, slipping out your phone and placing it in his palm, turning the back of his hand over.

His skin burns.

He smiles softly and enters his number in your contacts. He then slips his phone out of his pocket, furiously typing on it. Your phone lights up in your hand a second later, a text flashing across the screen: This is Falcon, paging Coffee Girl.

You laugh at the nickname. His name reads Falcon in your contacts, his real name hidden to your message app as it rests in the nickname section, which is turned off on your display.

You text him back.

Coffee Girl on stand-by.

He laughs at your response and you loosely smile as you're distracted by his light, by the beauty in his smile. He doesn’t notice and you duck your head to keep it that way.

Your stomach drops as you look up to see Bucky paving a stumbling path through the party to you, eyes ablaze and slightly unfocused. Sam stands to his full height, putting some distance between the two of you. “(Name). Where have you been, doll.” Alcohol slides over your cheek as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, glaring past you and into Sam.

“Here.” You draw his attention back to you as you take in his swollen lips and disheveled hair. Your shadows start to creep back into your skin, originally chased away by Sam, his light burning them away. Bucky’s eyes, despite how intense they look, are unfocused. He’s not in his right mind.

He pulls you closer as he looks down at you. “Who’s this?” He smiles at you but frowns as he spares a glance back at Sam.

“A friend.”

He looks Sam up and down a couple of times before he looks back to you, a goofy smile coating his face. “Okay.”

You turn around and at Sam’s face distorted in anger, all traces of his original kindness obliterated. It startles you, but when he glances over at you, his face softens. “I’m going to take him home.”

“Nice seeing you.” He bids you goodbye with such subtle hints at his awareness of the situation. You get the feeling that he’s not mad at you or the situation, just at Bucky. You silently thank him for his understanding.

He imperceptibly nods his head at you and you turn back to Bucky, slipping his arm over your shoulder.

You feel a buzzing in your pocket but ignore it as you drag a half-functional Bucky out of the house and into your car.

…

After hours of dragging him around his apartment and laying him down for bed, you leave him with one glass of water and a few pills for the massive headache he’s going to have tomorrow.

He mumbles for you to stay, but you push his arms off of you as if they’re disgusting chains, attempting to keep you sedated in one place.

When you break free from his place and safely make it back to yours, you collapse on your bed, crawling under the covers, not caring that makeup still lingers on your face. The fact of your phone buzzing dawns on you and you pull your phone out of your pocket, clicking the screen to life to see Falcon appearing on your screen.

See you around, Coffee Girl.

Your heart warms and you send a quick text back before turning out the light, plugging your phone in, and placing it on silent as you drift off.

Goodnight, Falcon.

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nxfelibatae · 4 years

Text

pose || jimin x reader [pt.3]

When the opportunity presented itself there was no way you were going to let it go, only 10 days to make a boy fall in love, It must have been easy, but you let yourself be carried away by your feelings, and nobody should risk their heart to the ones who are addicted to play with it. Love disguises itself in many ways and it hurts when you find out it was all a lie.

pairing: fuckboy! jimin x reader!

word count: 7.3K

genre: Fluff, slight angst, light smut, how to loose a guy in 10 days AU

warnings: Alcohol use, sex references, slow burn, swearing. Everybody it's kinda lying. That's pretty much it.

A / N: inspired by the movie How to loose a guy in 10 days. First work here so please be nice guys :(. It's a two people work.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

PART 3

Day 10

'Wake your ass up!' Nayeon screams from the other side of your bedroom door 'Breakfast is ready and if you don't come out I'll eat everything on my own, you know I'll do it!'

A groan came out of your mouth when you heard her walk away from the door. Pressing a pillow against your head and closing your eyes tightly to combat the noise and the annoying daylight making its presence between the curtains of your room, wasn't too helpful, you could hear her shout your name again, followed by another threat about going in to get you out of your hair.

You knew that the only reason Nayeon was being so considerate was because she wanted to know the details of your get away with Jimin. Was it proper to call it a date? It was weird to even think about it, but you actually enjoyed it. As you open your door to avoid another shout from Nayeon, you let the smell of bacon and pancakes invade your nostrils.

The kitchen isle had always been the place to have breakfast, any day of the week. Being an apartment of two students, a dining room was not affordable and you would rarely use it. You let all your weight fall into one of the high chairs in front of the ivory table, you were clearly tired due to the few hours of sleep. Nayeon looked at you and gave you a mischievous smile as she places a plate in front of you.

'It smells really good, Nayeon. Thank you. ' A grateful smile takes place on your face, Nayeon smiles in response as she sits across from you with a large cup of coffee. 'How did you get home last night?' The tone of your voice was curious and concerned, since the night before you had only checked her room to make sure she was still alive, ignoring completely the fact that you didn't know how she got home safely.

'Oh, Mark called a taxi for me. He made sure I got home safe, he followed the driver in the app ... '

Your eyes widened in surprise. After the events of last night, the most logical thing for you was that Mark brought Nayeon home, because in your opinion his attitude was flirtatious towards her in various ways. Nayeon laughed loudly at that, assuring you that they were just friends and that he was just being nice.

'How sure are you about that?' You asked curious.

'Hundred percent sure.' Her tone drips on confidence. She takes another bite of bacon, grabbing it with her tiny fingers. She has the habit of eating with her hands sometimes.

'And that's because ...'

'He has a girlfriend, you silly,' she spits smiling 's * She arrived like five minutes after you ran away with your new boyfriend. Small, good-looking, likable, you know? But obviously Mark wouldn't leave her standing there just to take another girl home, so I told him not to worry and that I could get back on my own, he was really nice and called the taxi for me and offered to pay for it , but I rejected his offer, once I got home I texted him to let him know I was safe in bed. ' taking another bite of bacon, she finishes her story.

‘I see...’ you murmure, avoiding as much as you can the whole date with Jimin topic. You were worried about Nayeon taking too seriously this whole situation with Jimin, when it was really just a game, a story to write an article about. The idea of Nayeon giving you advice wasn't what made you anxious, it was her messing with your head, giving you wrong ideas of what you felt you had under control. Did you actually have it under control?

‘So...’ she says smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in wonderland.

‘Nayeon...’ you warn, not letting her mess around with questions. It was too early in the morning, or at least for you, to talk about this topic and let it spin around your head again.

‘Come on!’ She whines with sad puppy eyes. ‘I just wanna know how did it went. Where did you go? Was he nice? Was he a gentleman or is he the asshole everybody says he is with girls? Did he tried to kiss you?’ You felt overwhelmed with every question that Nayeon threw at you quickly. When Nayeon was curious or excited about something, she could speak really fast.

Blinking a few times and after taking a sip from your coffee, you took a long breath to begin answering your best friend's questions. ‘We went to grab some dinner as we said we would. He took me to this 90’s styles restaurant not far from where the party was and he was actually...nice I think? I mean he was polite, he didn’t looked at the waitress as I thought he would, he opened the door for me when it was necessary and he also paid for the food. We talked a little bit, exchanged phone numbers and before I knew it was 4:00 am, so he brought me back home and yes, he tried to kiss me at the front door but I told him I wanted to take things slow and then slammed the door almost in his face after I said “get home safe, good night”. That’s it, that’s all it is to tell’ you took another bite of a pancake drowned a little too much in maple syrup, not giving much attention to the fact that you had a date just a few hours ago and you almost got kissed at the door.

‘I am not surprised at all that he tried to kiss you, actually. I am surprised about the whole polite thing he’s playing, you know? I’ve never heard of Jimin doing that with other girls’ she says frowning.

‘Maybe he’s trying to act different with me, but…why?’ You say with a shrug. ‘Anyways...I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would, you know?’

‘You mean you like him?’

‘I mean, yeah? Not in a romantic way, I just think he’s nice, I don’t know how to describe it.’ Your shoulders rise to emphasize your indifference.

The conversation is quickly interrupted by the doorbell, the two of you look at each other confused wondering who could be, since none of you expected visits.

‘Maybe is the mailman, I don’t know, can you check it? I'm in the middle of my pancake.’ you two laugh when you shove half of the pancake into your mouth.

Nayeon runs to see through the peephole and let out a gasp when she realizes who it is.

‘Who is it?’ words cannot be understood because your mouth was still full.

‘Umm, I think is for you.’ She answers with an excited smile as she holds you by the shoulders.

‘But, I said I wasn’t expecting anyone.’ Pieces of pancake flew out your mouth making Nayeon feel grossed out about it.

‘You might want to finish that quickly, because Jimin is waiting for you outside with a bouquet of flowers.’ Your roommate says wagging her eyebrows mischievously.

‘What?!’ Her words took you by surprise and thanks to the exaggerated amount of food inside your mouth, you started to choke. Nayeon took action and started tapping you on the back as you took a few sips of coffee to help the food down your throat, what was going on? Why is he here? You thought he would text you to set a place to meet at, not appear unannounced at your doorstep.

‘Are you okay?’ Nayeon asked worried about your condition.

‘I am, but what is he doing here?’ You murmured just to make sure he won’t listen to you.

Nayeon and you start arguing under your breath, while on the other side of the door a desperate Jimin rings the bell again.

He thought about the flowers on his way to your house caught by a red light that made him stop next to a flower shop where this beautiful flowers were displayed, he immediately thought of you, which seemed very strange to him, but at the same time made him think about the points he could earn with that detail.

Jimin made a left turn where he found parking, his next move on you was to take you on a romantic date, girls love that kind of things he thought.

‘Hey man, how much for the flowers at the front?’ Jimin asked taking his sunglasses off as he entered the shop.

‘The Roses or the Lilies?’ Asked back the florist cleaning his hands of what the floral foam had released after arranging a new bouquet.

‘I don’t know about flowers, the red ones?’ Jimin answered not really sure about it, the florist just laughed at his lack of knowledge.

‘The roses are 68,000 won’ The florist walked directly to the bouquet followed by Jimin, ‘I see you're the passionate type.’

‘I’ll take them.’ The florist took them to the front desk where the tools and wrapping paper were so he could arrange them ‘Why you say that?’ Jimin asked while watching how delicate the florist was with the flowers.

‘Well, red roses signifies enduring passion, that's why.’

He smirked a little at the comment ‘Do they?’ Jimin handed the money and left immediately, as he crossed the shop’s door he puts the sunglasses back on.

That was weird.

The sound of the motor made him put his feet on the ground, leaving the subject completely aside.

Buying flowers for a girl was not something normal for Jimin and now he was outside this girl's place with a bouquet that until now he had realized had cost him at least three whole meals at his favorite restaurant.

After arguing for what seemed like forever to you, Nayeon eagerly pushed you towards the door, encouraging you to open up even though your hair looked like a bird's nest. Taking a long breath and trying to straighten your hair as much as possible, you open the door revealing a smiling Jimin in ripped jeans and black boots.

‘Hi.’ He said, caught up by surprise after your random look in mini shorts and stained blouse. ‘These are for you.’ He pushed the bouquet towards you.

Smiling you took it, appreciating the gesture and the bright color of the flowers. ‘Thank you...’ You took a step outside as you closed the door behind you, not letting Nayeon hear any further your conversation. ’I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.’ A nervous smile appeared on your face when you put a tuft of hair behind your ear.

‘Well, you did say that the second date depended on me so…’

You giggled at his answer. ‘Jimin I meant that you could text me so we could hang out again. I was not telling you to show up at my door by surprise.’

Jimin knew, you delivered the message very clear, but with the clock ticking against his favor, he had to take every opportunity and risk to make you fall for him as soon as possible, reason enough for him to buy the flowers in the first place too.

‘Right. I knew that.’ He started his next move, trying to be cute and looking embarrassed, a quality he really lacked. Jimin is usually described by his friends as the most scoundrel in the world. He knows that playing the innocent guy is a risky move but, again, all risk and opportunity had to be taken in this situation.

An awkward silence took over the situation, mostly due to the fact that Jimin appeared without a warning, catching you in the middle of a bite and wearing pajamas which to be honest, were very short and embarrassing. Who in college sleeps in pajamas from their favorite cartoon?

Jimin, on the other hand, finds them funny, even a little cute. That's probably why he thinks it's a good idea to make them a topic of conversation, ‘Nice pajamas.’

‘No please. They are embarrassing.’ You let out a laugh, covering your face with one hand in embarrassment.

‘They are not!’ He says with a bright smile, relieving the tension and the awkwardness between the two of you.

You laugh a little, lifting your sight just to see his beautiful smile. Something tingles in your head, a question, ticking in your tongue, ready to be spit out. Why did he wanted to see you so soon? Why was he so interested in you?

You clear your throat a little ‘Jimin I…I don’t wanna sound rude but…what are you doing here? Honestly.’

The question took him by surprise, causing him to blink a couple of times before answering, still not looking into your eyes, shifting his foot from side to side as if he was kicking an imaginary rock, he looked like a child, making your heart sink.

‘I just…I wanted to see you again, you know? I had a really great time yesterday, maybe take you out one more time, during daylight, so we could have more time together?’ Now he was looking at you with puppy eyes, his eyes make your heart fluster a little.

‘So you drove all the way to my apartment just for a maybe? What if I wasn’t home or what if I say no?’ you ask, really curious. If Park Jimin is who everyone says he was, it didn’t make much sense to you that he would sacrifice his Saturday morning just for a maybe from a girl, right?

‘You were worth the shot.’ he says as he shrugs ‘Besides, you still haven’t said no.’

He does have a point. You bite your lip, thinking how to answer, how to tease him. ‘You haven’t even asked properly…’ now you look at the flowers, leniently caressing the petals, trying to look nonchalant.

Jimin sighs, not angry or pissed, he looks like he’s having fun, smiling and holding a laugh, you guess. ‘You really want me to say it, don’t you?’ Hand runs through his hair, slightly stretching the ends. He really thinks about it, because never in his life has he said the words meaning them, his tongue lingers when he finally asks ‘Would you like to go out on a date with me? Again?’

Your face is adorn with a smile of victory and a little flash of ego in your eyes. But now that he has said the words, you find yourself not knowing what to answer.

So then you look again at his eyes, sparkling with hope and with impatience, and you feel confused, because Jimin it’s supposed to be rude, dumb and an asshole, not cute and nice.

‘I don’t know…’ you bite your lip again, playing hard to get, hoping that he shows his true self, getting angry and leaving, telling you that in the end his not going to waste his time begging

‘Pretty please?’ His tone is soft and he takes a step forward, taking your hand, stroking your check slowly.

And just like that, Jimin finds himself doing what he never does, at least not for a date. Beg. In his head, he’s sending prayers, wishing he could control minds to tell you what to do, wishing for you to say yes because now he feels like his pride is damaged.

But you don’t see it like that, you are being tricked without noticing, because you confuse his desperation with sweetness and softness, finding yourself actually wanting to say yes, and not only for the article and the whole playing with a fuckboy thing.

Jimin genuinely believes he’s getting a no for an answer, preparing himself for the worst and to take his damaged pride back home, closing his eyes when he sees you’re about to speak again to deaden the blow you’re about to deliver.

‘I…’ you look everywhere, trying to place your sight in something more than him, nervous due his proximity. ‘Could you wait for a couple of minutes? So I can put myself together a little and place this beauties in some water?’ You surprise Jimin and yourself when you spoke.

Jimin is relieved one more time, releasing the air he didn’t know he was holding until he heard you. Without erasing the apparent joy on his face, he answered 'I'll wait right here' so you let him go, disappearing once again through the white door of your apartment. Jimin felt a déjà vu when he saw you and with both arms crossed he leaned back on his motorcycle, letting the sun spray him for a few moments as he felt the heat envelop his body.

Inside, you're not surprised to see Nayeon standing by the door, probably just walking away from it to spy on you.

'Is he leaving?' She asks.

‘You ask as if you hadn’t spied on us thru the peephole, Nayeon, don't play dumb with me'

She forces a smile, as you pass her the roses Jimin was so kind to buy for you and ask her to put them in water, rushing to your room, trying to look decent in record time.

20 minutes later, Nayeon gives you a last good look at your outfit and hair, somehow she managed to get her hands on you after she saw the plaid shirt and the damp hair in a high ponytail.

You looked fresh now, with a lightweight tank top that Nayeon pulled out for you and moderately dry hair falling onto your back. You started to regret washing your hair at this time, you felt the heat consume your body due to the humidity which would probably make it fluffy after the motorcycle ride.

With a denim jacket in hand and the apartment keys in the other one, you waved Nayeon goodbye closing the door behind you, taking mental notes of every advice she gave you before you headed out.

'Don't let him kiss you just yet, just tease him about it. Flip your hair a couple of times and reject him if he tries to hold your hand. Let him know he has to earn it but send 'i like you' signals all the time. You're trying to confuse him, you got me?'

Actually, the answer was no, all the tips Nayeon had given you were contradictory to each other, even unruly, you only managed to nod to avoid keeping Jimin waiting any longer, probably dying from a heat stroke.

As you walked towards Jimin, he turned his head in your direction showing his smile.

Is he always this smily?

‘I’m sorry it took me so long.’ An awkward smile formed on your face when you were right in front of the boy.

You stared for a few seconds, seconds that were enough to re-analyze Jimin's facial structure, he was really handsome, you didn't understand how someone like him with such a reputation could have noticed you, not that you were less than the other girls, it's just that the situation didn't seem real.

'No worries' he says adopting an upright figure as he holds out your helmet. 'It's still early and there's some places I'd like to take you' He watches you carefully, taking another look at your body and your features now in broad daylight. Jimin would certainly have tried to get closer to you if he had seen you before the bet. The difference would have been in the insistence, since at the first 'no' he would've backed up.

Once he hears the little click on the snaps that fit the helmet to your head, he extends his hand to help you get on the motorcycle, wearing that bright smile of his. Giggling at the gesture, you accept the hand.

This time you place your hands around Jimin's waist without hesitation, he smirks and starts the engine. You could get used to this, the motorcycle thing. It was really relaxing, feeling the wind in your face, the sounds around you, everything felt…right. You let yourself go just like last time, for a moment you think about getting a motorcycle but your parents wouldn’t be too happy about it.

You don't know what exactly is going on with you, maybe it's Nayeon's words in your head repeating itself over and over again about sending signals, but you only act in automatic placing your chin on Jimin's right shoulder and getting closer to him when a fresh smell reaches your nose, it doesn't take long for you to realize is Jimin.

He even smells really good, does this guy has any flaws?

‘Okay, what do you think about me choosing your ice cream flavor and you choosing mine?’ Asks Jimin entering the ice cream shop after you.

‘I don’t know, you look like the kind of person who has really bad tastes.’ Your nose scrunched.

‘You didn’t think that when we were at the diner.’ He answered getting close to your face, you started to panic and remembered Nayeon's words, “Don’t let him kiss you just yet.”

‘I’ll let you have this one, sir.’ You say walking away to get to the counter where all the flavors were exhibited, ‘You have to try that one for sure!’ Jimin who just got next to you looked to where your finger was pointing.

‘Pickled Mango? That sounds gross.’ You let out a laugh when you see Jimin shake in disgust after reading the name ‘If I try that one you have to try the pear and blue cheese one.’

‘No! I refuse!’ you complain laughing ‘Let’s just get normal flavors.’ you say frowning

'Oh... so you'll chicken out?' he says, rising an eyebrow and looking at you with tease.

'What? No! I just don't want to get sick by eating ice-cream thank you very much.’ With crossed arms you stare at him, you don't let him get into your head, being firm and looking right into his eyes.

'Yeah, sure' he smiles widely. He remains quiet for a couple of seconds, looking around to se how many people were in the store, your stomach sinks due nerves, trying to defy what is his next move.

Jimin takes two steps to the nearest customer, a lady with her son enjoying her ice-cream in a cup. He taps her shoulder nicely. 'Excuse me ma’am, did you know this establishment accepted animals such as chickens?'

Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when you hear Jimin speak. The woman only manages to blink several times, while Jimin looks in your direction, almost mocking at you. 'You see, I thought that girl over there was my date, but it turns out ...'

It took two big steps for you to reach him, interrupting him and pulling him by the arm at the same time. 'I'm sorry.' you say with an apologetic look at the woman. 'He just got out of rehab, he doesn't know what he's saying, he's still detoxifying'

Jimin forms a wide 'O' with his mouth at your words, shouting 'Rehab?!' enough audible for several eyes to settle on you with an offended tone. But Jimin was unwilling to give up, unsurprisingly, so with a big drag of air, he yelled into the establishment.

'Hey everyone! I'll just like to inform you that my date chickened out and it's no fun at all'

You try to push him harder to the counter, where the girl who served the ice cream was, but Jimin is heavy and taller than you, making the task complicated.

He continues yelling, dragging everyone's attention to you, struggling to push a man to the exhibitor. You stop for a second the fighting to place your hand over his lips, hoping it would make him keep his mouth shut 'Jesus, Jimin, stop that, people are staring at us.’ He then continues to laugh loudly, making his eyes disappear for a couple of seconds.

'Come on, let's get you some ice-cream' he says giving up and walking slowly to the counter one more time.

You end up choosing normal flavors and while you left the ice cream shop you could swear that everyone looked at you with a bad face, we weren’t that noisy, were we?

‘Don’t worry about them, I guess they’ve never had fun before!’ Jimin screamed to then close the door behind him while rolling his eyes.

'You are quite shameless, aren't you?' you say looking at him funnily.

Jimin smiles and licks his cone. 'Come on, let's walk. The place is near here'

Ten minutes later and a couple of Jimin's bad jokes later, you walk by the Han river feeling the spring breeze and the humidity of the river on the skin when walking.

The conversation flows the same as the day before, Jimin is actually fun and is not afraid to express his jokes publicly even if it means getting a few looks from the people who walk near you in the same way.

While you're with Jimin, you try to remember Nayeon's advice and come up with a way to put it into practice, so you constantly move your hair from side to side when speaking.

Jimin noticed it. He had seen the same trick so many times, more than he can count with both hands, but he lets it go, for him it was a sign that his behavior was working to get you.

Leaning against the railing for a few minutes after you said you couldn't eat and walk at the same time, earning yourself a round of teasing from the boy, you feel his shoulder casually rub with yours as he slowly approaches his hand to yours. He is about to take it, but Nayeon screams in your consciousness and intelligently you change the cone of hand to prevent him from grabbing it.

'So...' you say to liven up the atmosphere a bit. 'Engineering major uh?'

Jimin leans against a single arm on the railing, putting his body in your direction, as well as his attention. 'Impressed?' he says with an air of greatness.

Something sparks inside you, with a need to lower it from the pedestal where he placed himself without reason for a simple comment. So you say back 'Not actually.' the surprise is evident on Jimin's face, almost annoyed, but you find the way he reacts when you annoy him funny, so you continue, imitating his posture. 'I'm impressed that you haven't quit yet, tho.'

'Oh so you're saying I'm dumb?' he says with a pout, putting his index finger directly to his chest.

You frown and smile 'I never said that, Jimin. I just think it's funny that you have time to party with such a complicated major.'

'Proof that you can find time to have fun' he answered.

'Why did you choose that major?' you ask curious. Jimin shrugs a little before answering. 'I like math and it's kinda cool, you know?'

The answer impresses you, Jimin doesn’t really look as the type of man who likes mathematics. 'You like math?' you say giggling 'Why do you like such a hard subject?'

The wind blows hard and a lock of hair flies between your face and your cone, preventing you from eating calmly, but you manage to push it away with your free hand before it touches the ice-cream and gets sticky.

Jimin hesitates before answering, because he has never actually discussed this with a girl. They usually only talk about them or try to find topics of conversation between silly fights they have had with their friends or the manicure and the time it takes to do them.

Sure, Jimin has talked about this with his friends, normally Taehyung and Jungkook are the ones who ask these questions or tease him about being a nerd, but never a girl.

'They just make sense to me...' he clears his throat and you notice a twinkle in his eyes before he starts to speak again 'Look it's like...you have this puzzle, right? But you have a missing piece. So, someone, comes in and tells you “here’s a way to get to the missing piece” and when you solve it and find the missing piece and everything fits, it's amazing. They are perfect, numbers are perfect.' you notice how Jimin moves his hands when speaking and you catch yourself smiling at the effusive way he explains something simple, showing how much he actually likes what he does, your smile gets bigger as the wind blows once more, even stronger than the last time, making your hair tangle and cloud your sight a little. Jimin is quick to act, so with one hand, he slowly puts the hair behind your ear, stroking gently your hair a few seconds after it's in place. 'They are perfect just like you.'

You blush at his words, tickles present in your stomach, not like butterflies, but more like ants in a run, trying to find a place to hide when it rains. Jimin notices how the cone trembles in your hand making him smirk, you realize you are not so immune to his charms as you thought. Then, with a vow of courage and a smile as bright as diamonds, he takes a step forward, shortening the distance between your lips and his.

But Nayeon jumps back into your head "Don't let him kiss you just yet" so you take a small step back, smashing what was left of your cone right in his face.

You start to laugh at the Jimin’s new face covered in ice cream, it was priceless, but when you notice he wasn’t laughing with you, you stop. After a few seconds he laughs throwing himself at you, seeking revenge and trying to get rid of the mess you've left on his face.

He gets a little of ice cream on your nose before you stop him to help cleaning his face, running the napkin over his cheek and chin while he looks at you carefully, when you get close to his mouth he feels shivers down his spine, you didn't seem to notice it and he was grateful for it.

'Why did you do that?' he says between giggles. You keep laughing, searching for a better reason than “My friend told me not to."

'You were being boring.' you say as you crunch your nose a little.

'You were the one asking boring questions in the first place!’ He responds trying to sound awfully mad but failing, betrayed by his laugh.

‘Well I am getting bored, let's do something else!' you attack, finishing to swipe the remains of ice cream, now you feel your fingers sticky but you believe it was wroth it, after all, you avoided Jimin's kiss like the plague and got something to laugh about, something you hadn’t done in a long time. At least not with anyone other than Nayeon.

‘When you said “let’s do something else”, I didn’t think you would choose a bar.’

After the ice cream fight, you decided to change the date a little, you headed Jimin straight to Itaewon where bars abounded, you had already shown a sweet side, now you wanted to show him your rough side.

‘I come often to this bar with my friend Nayeon, I like it because they have pool tables, good music and great alcohol.’ you explained as you took a seat at one of the empty tables close to the door.

‘You really don’t look like a girl who go to bars.’

‘Is this like our thing?’ You asked taking off the denim jacket. Jimin looks at you with confusion so you continue ‘I mean, assuming things about each other.’

‘Well what do you assume of me?’ Asks him while going through the menu.

‘Well, you look like a guy who can’t commit to a relationship.’ Jimin quickly looks at you trying to figure out if you were joking. You weren’t, but you liked to make him feel nervous and uneasy, it made you feel in control. ‘I’m joking,’ he laughs a little not being so sure ‘But you do look like a guy who has a lot of secrets, am I right?’

‘Not really, I think I’m an open book, you know…easy to read and all that philosophical shit.’ You two laugh at his words. ’When I said that you didn’t look like a girl who go to bar I was thinking about you not liking parties. And I know this is not a party, but it looks like it happens from time to time.’ Jimin turns his head around the place looking at everyone.

‘It’s different, I can’t explain how, but just trust me, it’s different.’ You say, defending yourself against Jimin’s mention of you not being a party girl.

The night flows good, Jimin orders some beers and you order some shots here and there, mostly for you because Jimin says he has to drive, and you are more than okay with that, you don’t really want to die at such young age.

After a couple of drinks you felt more relaxed. Thank you alcohol. That same chill vibe coming from the shots makes you feel active, wanting to do something else than just talking to the handsome guy that it’s sitting right in front of you. With your arm resting in the table and your chin in your hand, you speak ‘Do you know how to play pool?’

Jimin looks thru his glass, seeing your pretty smile from the amber liquid he’s drinking product of his second beer of the night, sticking to his promise of staying sober. He nods, looking at the tables and paying attention to the ‘pop’ sound off the balls colliding one with the other.

‘We should play pool then, are you down?’ You ask with a big smile letting Jimin know you were still okay, he had started to worry about having to take you out of the bar carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

‘Sure, the winner chooses the next date.’ Jimin smiles and stands with no hesitation, waiting for you to do the same.

‘So you really think there will be another date after this one? You are a very confident man Park Jimin.’ You say standing up and pocking his chest with your index finger after every word, you wobble a little and Jimin holds you making you both get way too close, you could feel his breath on your head and your eyes couldn't help but look up to his lips.

Maybe it’s the alcohol clouding your thoughts and shutting up Nayeon’s little voice in your head, because for a second you really think about kissing him, thinking that perhaps this was the only moment where you could do it without regretting it because if it wasn’t good or if he rejected, you could blame it on the booze and then move on, but when you were about to go in for it, Jimin pushes you away a little without being abrupt, to separate you from him.

‘Look there’s a free table over there.’ He says grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the pool table that was available a few feet from you, trying to get there before anyone else.

You grabbed a cue stick and so does Jimin, you break, making one of the solid balls enter one of the holes in the table. ‘I guess you are strips.’ a wink escapes from you.

‘Is it here when I find out you are actually a professional pool player?’ Jimin asks as he sees you settling into a new position to finally shove another of your balls into a hole.

‘I’m not a professional but I’m good at it.’ Another ball goes in.

‘Are you even gonna let me play?’ He laughs without taking his gaze off your concentration face, he’s actually really impressed by the fact that even when you were a little drunk you managed to focused on the target, striking perfect points as you get the balls in its place.

‘I hope so, sometimes I’m on a streak and it’s hard to know when the other player would play.’ Jimin stands next to you and just when you are about to hit the cue ball, he hits you with his hip making you fail the shot.

‘Hey! That’s cheating!’ You laugh, hand on your hip while you laugh a little, with the stick in your left hand.

‘What are you talking about, I just tripped.’ Jimin tries to play it cool but he looks like a little kid, you laugh even harder when after his attempt of making you loose, he make the cue ball go in one of the holes.

‘You made me lose so you could just play that awfully?’

‘The stick slipped from my finger.’ He frowns and pouts.

‘Excuses, excuses. Let the big girls play.’ You take the cue ball out of the hole and position it in a way that is favorable to you, bending over to the pool table.

When you were about to hit the ball you feel how something, or rather someone, brushes slightly his hand over your butt, touching it almost as not wanting to, you believe that maybe they were trying to go unnoticed. You snap, getting in to a straight position due to the touch you did not consent.

‘Why did you touch me you piece of shit?!’ You scream with your face turned bright red due to your anger, turning around to face the person, it was just one of those kind of macho greasy dudes who were too drunk to function.

‘Excuse me? What did you just called me?’ He looked at you with disdain.

‘You heard me loud and clear, pig.’ You spit your words without stopping to look him in the eye for a second, firm and alert position, he was not going to get away with this.

‘Hey man...’ he says looking at Jimin as he speaks. ‘Is this bitch here with you? You should control her, she’s drunk and crazy.’

��She wouldn’t be angry if you hadn’t touch her.’ Jimin steps forward, putting you behind him while getting closer, face to face with the guy with anger in his voice.

‘Nobody touched her, it’s just her imagination. Didn’t you heard me? She’s drunk’ the guy looks so confident in his words, you almost feel intimidated. Almost. ‘Just look at her, why would someone want to touch her?’ he looks at you head to toe with disgust ‘I guess you are really needy to be fucking with that.’ Those were his last words before Jimin's fist hit his face, making him fall to the ground.

Blood boils inside Jimin's veins due the comment of the guy 'Look, I'm not really looking for a fight but you're screaming for one right now. So I'll give you exactly 30 seconds to apologize to her if you don't want to end up in the fucking hospital, my friend' Jimin squats down to look at the guy in the eyes, feeling a bunch of looks and people staring at him, someone takes a step forward, maybe a friend of the guy he just hit ready to step in for his friend, but before anything else happened and as Jimin starts to get back up, the guy grabs him by the neck of his shirt, putting him under his body and starting to drop punches.

You see them switch places on the floor a couple of times, fists crashing against each other faces, you try to make your voice louder enough to break through the sounds of the bar, you don't know what else to do to get Jimin to stop punching the guy. The situation escalated quickly from the moment you opened your mouth, you didn't want this to happen and you were hoping someone would step in and separate them but they were busy watching the show.

Gladly, one of the bartenders and some other worker, came and step in between the fight, lifting Jimin from the guy who was now on the floor, no longer fighting back. Jimin it's trying to calm down, breathing heavily while you come near him, taking a closer look at the damage on his face. 'Grab your stuff, let's go. That will teach him not to mess with girls for a long time' His face is red, product of the rush of blood, with a deep frown and a split lip that he cleans with the back of his hand.

‘Come on, sit right here.’ You point at the little stair outside your place, getting in to your apartment to look for the first aid kit to clean Jimin’s wounds, that was the least you could do for him. ‘I’m so sorry our date had to end like this, I feel terrible, I should have stayed quiet.’ You said as you came back taking a seat next to him, he looked at every movement you made while taking out the things you’ll need from the little white box.

‘You’re kidding? A woman who stands for herself is awesome. I’m sure that if I didn’t hit him, you would have done it.’ You finally let a little laugh after everything that happened.

‘I guess so…’ your eyes meet for a couple seconds and before anything else happened, you look away ‘This may sting, but it's only for a second. Here I go.’

He nods, but when the cotton soaked in alcohol touched his wounds, he tried to hold back a scream to not disturb the neighbors or scare you, avoiding making you feel worst than you already have.

‘Where did you learn to fight either way?’ You asked, tapping slightly the cotton on his lip cut.

‘When I moved here I had to change, so I could adapt better to this city, just like you. I guess you didn’t arrive speaking fluent Korean, right?’ He laughs to then close the eyes due to the alcohol stinging.

‘That’s true, I just knew the basics.’ You put on an ointment on his wounds before putting everything back in the box. ‘You are good to go.’ You said standing up and shaking the dirt from the back of your pants. 'Thank you, Jimin. For defending me back there, even if didn't go that well for you'

'You don't need to thank me, it was the right thing to do.' he says relaxed. 'Don't worry about this, I've had worst.' he points at his fresh wound. ‘Despite everything I had a great time.' he scratches de back of his neck.

You hug yourself in nervousness and smile back at him 'Yeah... me too' You look at each other, not really knowing what was next, the air starts to blow once again, making the weather a little bit cold.

‘I’ll better get going.’ Jimin says putting his hands inside his pants pockets looking up to the starry night, he walks down to his motorcycle and just when you open the door to go inside he turns to just tell you he will text you next time before arriving without any notice.

You let out a little laugh, only nodding and telling him to text you as well once he's safe and sound back at his apartment. 'Goodbye, gorgeous.' he says gently.

You don't close the door until he waves goodbye at you before he starts the engine and you see him leave. Once you see him disappear into the night you close the door and lay your back on it, just thinking how great the night had gone.

<--PART 2

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donavanhall · 4 years

Text

Acts of Translation

Late in February 2021, I was walking through the Long Island Pine Barrens, along the beginning of the Paumanok Trail. The snow-covered path was marked by the patterned boot tracks of other hikers (only two or three at the most) and the cloven hoof-marks of deer. The sky above the trees was pale blue, tinged with gray. The air was cool, crisp, dry. With each step, my boots compacted the icy slush and sometimes my boot would shift, sliding on the heavy, dense snowpack so that I’d have to compensate with a movement of my upper body and arms to keep my balance and to prevent myself from slipping.

The fourth branch of Jacques Roubaud’s “the great fire of London”, a volume called Poésie: (récit) — I prefer the French title since Poetry: (a story) is less poetic and loses a sense of meaning that I think should be there, poésie to my ear implies a movement that is lost in the more static English word, poetry, and récit (and perhaps this is peculiar to me and has nothing to do with actual French) suggests narration closer to that when a storyteller speaks to a listener who receives the récit and so completes the action, a story doesn’t necessarily require a reader — begins with the Narrator (Roubaud) moving through space, in this case, the space is urban, the streets Paris.

Early in December 1994, I was walking in Paris. The sky was gray, low, the air humid, warm.

For walking in Paris, I wear a blue K-way jacket, and a cap, also blue. The K-way was a gift, not something I’d picked out. It was light, blue, waterproof, costly.

For walking in the woods, I wear an olive green jacket made by Patagonia that zips up the front and has a little pocket over the left breast where I can store my phone for easy access. Around my neck, I wear my “Doctor Who scarf” knitted by my mother. (The scarf isn’t a replica of any of the long scarves worn by the Fourth Doctor, played by actor Tom Baker, but a spirited recreation of the sort that anyone familiar with the various scarves featured in Season 12 through 17 of the TV show would immediately recognize.) On my head I wear a black bowler hat I purchased at the museum shop of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in 2018 when I took my mother and son to the Magritte exhibit. (The next summer, I would take my wife and son to Brussels to tour the permanent Magritte exhibit at the Musée de Beaux Arts. The study of Magritte’s art and writing is a principal concern of my Project.) The clerk at the shop said this style of bowler hat is the exact same one worn by René Magritte when he was alive. So it should be no surprise that I’m pleased with it and wear it every opportunity I get, and especially when I’m out on my daily walk.

Before the pandemic, I walked every afternoon through the pine barrens. This was easy enough since the office where I perform my paid work (not at all literary) is located in the middle of the pine barrens. There are a network of trails that lead through the woods that are immediately accessible from the back door of the building where I work. A year ago, my office was closed, so that I now work from home. Now my afternoon walks (usually) are taken along the streets in the neighborhood where I live in the village of Long Neck. I’ve become a familiar sight in the neighborhood as the man in the bowler hat. My neighbors wave to me and sometimes will view my unusual headwear as an occasion for conversation. What kind of hat is that? asked one neighbor. Another fellow walker assumed I’m a fan of Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of A Clockwork Orange, a novel by Anthony Burgess. I’m more a fan of the book than I am a fan of the movie, but my bowler hat is most deliberately a nod to Magritte and not to Alex and his three droogs. Throughout the pandemic, Magritte and his art has been my life line.

On his walks in Paris, Roubaud doesn’t wear a bowler — his cap is of a different sort.

I bought the cap in New York, at J.J. Hat Center, at the corner of Broadway and 42nd Street. It’s a hat made in Scotland and the salesperson assured me that it was the same exact style of cap worn by Sean Connery in the film The Untouchables. It’s no surprise that I’m happy with it.

After I’m vaccinated and I feel like taking the Long Island Rail Road to Penn Station again, maybe I’ll go to the J.J. Hat Center myself and shop for a hat. Although according to “the internet” J.J. Hat Center is now located at 310 Fifth Ave (between 31st & 32nd), not far from Penn at all. If/when I do go in to the city, I’ll want to pay a visit to the Fountain Pen Hospital. A man can never have too many hats or too many fountain pens.

I could go along in this vein for quite some time, this leisurely stroll through Roubaud’s Poésie: (récit) allowing his text to guide my own thoughts, reveries, musings, etc. The resulting text would function as a companion text. I’m walking along with Roubaud in Paris as he moves from the National Library, past familiar restaurants, along familiar streets…

I passed between the tops or periscopes of the licorice icebergs of the Buren columns, making sure not to slip on their outgrowths/extensions [? the French word is excroissances, but it’s not obvious to me what these outgrowths or extensions might be], on the damp grills, slimy, soaped with crushed beige leaves. And I made it through with no accidents to Place Colette, on the right side of the Théâtre-Français. This route was well known to me.

...but Roubaud himself is not walking with me, only his text, or perhaps he is with me as an invented copy of an imaginary Roubaud that I carry within myself as I read and as I walk along the snow-covered Paumanok Trail thinking of his book, or books (one book in seven volumes called collectively “the great fire of London”).

I read the first two and a half branches (the first three volumes to be translated into English), starting with Branch One: Destruction in the fall of 2018. Without really intending to, I wrote a little book of jottings while reading Roubaud’s novel. I called my little book, In the Labyrinth of Forking Paths, since “the great fire of London” is “a story with interpolations and bifurcations” with actual links indicating different narrative paths the reader can take during their wandering reading. I was reminded (though only a little) of the choose-your-own-adventure books (published by Bantam) I read when I was a kid. One of my early attempts at writing fiction was a “literary” choose-your-own-adventure called (imaginatively enough) Into the Labyrinth (a slight variation on a title of one of Alain Robbe-Grillet’s novels, Dans le labyrinthe, with whose hyper-descriptive nouveau roman style I’d become bewitched, a style ideally suited to such text adventures). (I published my Into the Labyrinth as an interactive fiction designed for a media platform that worked only on those early generation iPods. I have no idea if anyone ever read/played my interactive fiction even though according to the app, mine was the most downloaded story. It was certainly the longest.) I won’t claim that I have been waiting for the remaining four volumes to be translated into English. In fact, I felt a certain level of contentment with the artificial truncation of the novel — I had read all that I could, all that was available in English, so now I could move on to other things, like reading the works of Miklós Szentkuthy. Procuring and reading the rest of “the great fire of London” wasn’t a tempting prospect until Anthony, author of the blog, Time’s Flow, mentioned that he’d purchased the remaining volumes in French and would be making an attempt to read them. That was all it took. If Anthony was going to do it, then so would I. I ordered copies from a bookseller in France and they arrived last Friday in the post. So when did I get the idea to translate these remaining four volumes into English myself? Was it a serious idea or just another of my fanciful projects? Project 7139: translated two thousand pages of Jacques Roubaud’s “the great fire of London” into English. (For the record, I’m currently working on Project 3 which I started twenty years ago. Project 4 is “write a masterpiece that will establish my literary reputation.” That one might take awhile.) Certainly, I would read these other branches. Or would I? My track record for finishing big projects is not stellar. (The first time I read Proust, it took me ten years.)

While walking in the snow in the pine barrens, I thought about why I was being pulled back into Roubaud’s book. What was it about his very long prose that attracted me? Was this a momentary literary crush or had I fallen for “the great fire of London”? If this were a romance, you could say that Roubaud and I met in the fall of 2018 and spent some time together, mostly walking. We shared our mutual interests, talking about poetry, literature, and mathematics. I learned a great deal about haikai (haiku and haibun), gained a new appreciation of the works of Charles Dickens, and was introduced to Nicholas Bourbaki, and then resumed my own mathematical studies after a hiatus of twenty years, this time beginning with set theory and topology. And then it was over. He had to go. We parted ways.

Then two and half years later, Roubaud pops up again at a party hosted by a friend, this time we’re speaking French — my French is better now, so it’s much easier for us to talk and now I feel something different than I did before. We’re making a real connection. I can feel it. And Roubaud seems somehow changed. When we first met, I was the one who was paying attention to Roubaud, accompanying a new master, and learning new things. Now, this new Roubaud, this French-speaking Roubaud is interested in me, keeps asking me questions, asking for my opinion. Then it dawns on me. Roubaud has chosen me. You’re the one, he says. I’ve picked you.

Of course, this isn’t an exclusive relationship. Such is the way with authors and their books. Readers must share the objects of their affection, but still it feels different when a book chooses you rather than you choosing it.

I’m choosing you. I’m ready whenever you are. Shall we begin?

#jacques roubaud #walking #translation #french #literature

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wocfics · 5 years

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My Only Sunshine

Jung Hoseok

Arranged Marriage Series

Masterlist

JHS x Poc Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k+

Things were going to be done differently now, and for once, it was a good change for you. It happened when you were choreographing a dance for a high school in Chicago. The call you received from your lawyer, alerting you of the good news you were waiting for. For a month now. It’s not like you didn’t believe in love, of course you did, you just didn’t believe in the whole dating aspect of it. By the time you go out on several dates to get to know the person, they switch up after the impression stage. Their true colors come out and it’s either a good or a bad thing. In your case, it was always a bad thing. They were either bad at conversation, which didn’t get them past the first date or they got too bossy for your liking to the point of telling you what to do and when to do it. If you wanted your father around, he was only a phone call away.

You wanted to just marry someone already, you weren’t getting younger and the pickings were slim in this day in age. You wanted someone with motivation, a big heart and maybe to laugh with every once in a while. That’s why when you got the call about arrangements already being in order, you were more than excited. Your things were shipped and when you landed in Seoul, everything was beautiful. Your Korean was butchered, since learning apps didn’t do much justice.

You arrived there early, very early to be exact. You wore a red see through shirt but had a tank top on underneath it and dark denim jeans with black combat boots. Your bleached curls sat on your shoulders while you sat in the meeting room, explaining that you actually wanted to surprise your husband in your new home instead of in the meeting room which they agreed to once you signed the necessary papers. They corrected you when you said something wrong in Korean and you were embarrassed for sure.

The apartment was amazing, everything was clean and you could smell the new furniture because it had that smell, you know the one. You unpacked all of your belongings, putting everything away and touched up your makeup. You wondered if he’d like you or if he would think that you were too energetic for him. Walking into the kitchen after putting on a pair of fuzzy socks, you decided to make him something to eat. Of course he’d be hungry.

While you were putting the sandwich together you wondered who he was. It didn’t pass your mind that you were in the Big Hit building, since it was a big building, but it was the building that held the group BTS...you gasped to yourself as your eyes widened. How could you forget?! BTS?! The biggest boy group on the planet and you...were now married to one of them. But which one? After putting the sandwich together, your hands shaking from nervousness now, you put out a bottle of water and sliced and apple into chunks.

Keys jingled in the door and your head snapped towards the sound before slowly making your way through the living room and towards the front door. When you saw him, Hoseok, in all his sweaty glory and a bag over his shoulder while he kicked off his Puma’s, your heart almost jumped out of your body. He looked at you and all you could do was smile at the moment. He was also smiling as well, that smile that made everyone’s hearts melt. The both of you were nervous on the inside, new to this life and to another person occupying the same exact space as you. Of course he was used to living with six other people but they were all men and you were a woman.

You didn’t know what to do so you bowed and greeted him in Korean, something you didn’t mess up and he let out a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to bow, it’s okay…” He had forgotten your name and you grinned. “Y/N.” You finished for him and he repeated your name. “I made you something to eat. Well- I made you a sandwich actually. I figured you would be hungry since they said you were rehearsing. Sorry, I’m nervous.” You paused and put a hand on your head, realizing you were speaking full on English. You knew he knew how to speak it but you were in Korea now and you wanted to learn, especially for him.

You tried repeating what you said in Korean and his eyes widened before he burst out in laughter, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to you. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you proper Korean so you don’t mess up.” You knew you probably said something stupid so you pressed your lips together and nodded while following him into the kitchen. Sliding his plate over to him and his water, you clasped your hands together on the island top and watched him eat.

“I put my things away in the room. Also I was informed that there’s a dance studio on the lower floor and I know you dance too, but I’m also a choreographer.” You leaned against the counter, watching him chew and snack on the apples periodically. Once he finished and drank half of the water, he looked at you with a smile. “You dance too? Maybe we can dance together one day.” He suggested. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you nodded. Why were you fangirling so hard right now?

Grabbing his plate from him, you cleaned it off and wiped down the counter top while he drank the rest of his water before tossing it into the recycling bin. He knew you were nervous, and he thought it was cute. You excused yourself and walked into the bedroom, pacing around to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to do anything embarrassing in front of him. Just chill out Y/N, don’t mess this up. Taking a few deep breaths, you turned around when you hear him lightly knocking on the open door. “Don’t be nervous around me. Just pretend that I am just a regular person.” He knew why you were nervous and you nodded, frozen when he was still walking towards you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, your arms going around his neck to hug him close. You didn’t care that he was still a little sweaty, if anything it was a turn on and you had to stop yourself from wanting to place your hands anywhere else. There were a few things that did get you worked up and for some reason, a man sweating was one of them. You gently pulled back as your face flushed. You looked away and cleared your throat, removing his hands from around your waist only for him to interlock your fingers together and kiss the back of your hands. “It’s okay. We’re married now and I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, Y/N.” He spoke in Korean and you fully understood it. Nodding you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and smiled. “Okay.”

Since it was still early, Hoseok decided to take you down to the dance studio. You just wanted to see it since you were still a bit jet lagged after it finally caught up to you through the adrenaline you had earlier. It was twice the size of the studios you used to practice in. You sat on the floor of the apartment while he left to take a shower. You were writing down some phrases from your learning app, repeating the words multiple times while chewing on the back of the pen.

Hobi walked out in black basketball shorts and he was completely shirtless. He watched you for a few minutes until he heard you say a curse word and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips as he rushed over to you. You glanced up at him and almost drooled from seeing his bare chest but you blinked owlishly as he explained the pronunciation.

The whole night, after he got you to delete your unhelpful Korean teaching app, he helped you with words and phrases. It ended in you two putting a bunch of sticky notes with words on them around the apartment so that you won’t forget. After a few hours of you finally getting the hang of the language, you decided to take a long shower, keeping on a shower cap while you washed your face. Hobi was ordering take out for the both of you, some ramen and meat.

After you were in your pajamas, pink cloth shorts and a pink tank top, you pulled on your silk robe and made your way into the living room after putting two braids in your hair. You could smell the food and sat down at the table he set up in front of the couch and began eating. You laughed while eating and he fed you some of his ramen since you wanted to try it.

Once everything was cleaned up and you both brushed your teeth, you removed your robe and climbed into the bed, it was soft and inviting. Hobi slid next to you, turning off the lamp after you did the one on your side and pulled you to his chest. You rested your head on his chest, sofly placing your hand on it as well and tilt your head to look up at him, noticing that he was already looking at you. You were both married right? You were going to have to be comfortable around each other eventually. Slowly draping your leg over his waist, you scooted up some and pressed your forehead against his, both of you were breathing slowly before he leaned forward to connect your lips together.

Pulling you on top of him, his tongue pushed past your lips, dancing with yours while his fingertips glided down your back, tracing your spine lightly over your shirt. He rolled over on top of you, moving his lips to your neck and sucking harshly, leaving light bruises across. He kissed back up to your lips and you felt like your body was on fire. “We don’t have to do anything tonight...as much as I want to...we’re both tired.” He spoke between kisses and you nodded. “We can wait, I just want to kiss you.” You breathed, his tongue entering your mouth again, he swallowed your moan as his hands moved down to your hips, gripping them before pulling away and looking down at you.

Giving a few more pecks, he rolled off of you but made sure to pull you back to your original position, letting you rest your head on his chest. You kissed the side of his neck before slowly closing your eyes. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you actually fell asleep. Everything was perfect so far, he was sweet and tasted sweeter. The nerves you had earlier washed away in your sleep. You wondered how long it was going to be this perfect with him. Your husband.

#poc bts #bts fanfics #bts #jhope #bts jhope #jhope x reader #bts x poc reader #bts x black reader #btsimagines #btsimagine #junghoseok #hoseok #hobi #bts hobi #hobi sunshine #arranged marriage

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Five, “The Associate”

*NEW* Check out the new character survey I filled out from Becky’s POV here!

*NEW* Take a look at the new character survey I filled out from Harry’s POV here!

All chapters can be found here!

Inspo tag can be found here!

Spotify playlist *new* can be listened to here!

P.S. - Hi! Thanks so much for reading! I wanted to let you know I go back to work this week after months of being off due to COVID. I’m ahead on chapters right now by like 1-2, luckily, and I’ve been loooooving writing again for the last couple of months. I hope to find time after work and on weekends to still write. If I happen to not be able to post a chapter every week still, I’ll let you know and it may just be less frequent is all :-) Just an FYI. Also, this is my new favorite chapter of this story I’m SO excited for what’s happening!!!!!!

SNEAKYYYYYYYY PEEK

“Harry,” I mumble aloud, words and thoughts racing around in my head. They steal the words from my mouth, and the moisture from my throat. Exhaling slowly, my fingers wrap around the bigger box, a long rectangular shape. It’s heavy in my hands, and the paper is smooth, the flower shapes embossed into it. Brushing a tear away from the tip of my nose, I set it down on my lap, fingering the edge of paper on the side. I wonder if Harry wrapped these, and if he did, he didn’t do too shabby of a job, I wonder silently. A shock of dark purple catches my eye, and I see the card lying at the bottom of the box, but I ignore it for now. You’re last, because I know you’ll make me cry the most, I tell it. The paper rips quickly between my fingers, but keeps its secret hidden until I tear the paper again, in one long sweep.

Song Inspo: Be Kind by Halsey x Marshmello (click to listen)

PART 3: THE ASSOCIATE

“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out, is in.”

— Junot Diaz

The floor to ceiling windows leave much to the imagination as I stroll past their clouded glass, sure of the fat snowflakes falling behind them. Bringing the mug to my lips, I’m warmed when the coffee passes them. My rings make clinking noises against the yellow ceramic as my shoes pound on the tiling. Looking up, I hurry past the shining doors that begin to close. Exhaling, I press a finger to the number of the floor I seek, adjusting the strap of the bag across my chest.

“Oh hey,” I mumble once my eyes scan the company I keep on the lift. They hardly nod their head at me as they scroll through pages on their phone. “So um . . I reckon she’s graduated by now, an’ has tha Bar exam comin’ up. Has she mentioned how it went if she’s taken it already?” I inquire excitedly, leaning against the railing and subsequently crossing my legs out in front of me.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Asher retorts, not even lifting his head to look at me.

“Ashe,-” I begin, but he doesn’t let me get any further with my sentence, finally forgetting his phone.

“I’m done being your little messenger bird, Harry. I was done with it months ago, I don’t know why you couldn’t take a hint when I stopped talking to you last summer,” he spits, malice laced amongst his words. I try to step into his sentence, much like he did to mine, but once again I don’t get the chance. “If you want to know how Becky’s doing, Harry, then bloody ask her yourself. But don’t fucking lead her on again and then just ditch her, she deserves better than that, and I think you know that too. Talk to her! You try and ask her how the Bar went, or if she graduated already. I don’t know what’s stopping you,” he finally finishes, muttering curses under his breath as he steps off the elevator hurriedly.

“Well fook me,” I mumble before taking a long pull from the rest of my coffee, suddenly wishing it was Irish.

My body bobs up and down after falling on the springy mattress. I’m reminded of those stick-on glow in the dark stars you’d place on your ceiling as a kid. Suddenly, I wish I had some on mine. Instead, I stare up at a plain ivory ceiling, a color I’m not sure how to feel about right now. I almost space out again after staring at the walls of the same color at my work all day long. When my eyes trail to the rest of my bedroom, they’re bombarded with shocks of color all around. From the posters hugging my walls, the blankets on my bed, the framed pictures, and the mess of my desk. With a yawn, I slide off my bed and walk over to it, booting up my laptop. Running a hand over my face, sleep beckons me back to my bed as my typing fills the search bar.

“Just one more look,” I mumble to myself, silently promising myself I’ll go to bed after this.

As the page loads, a smile sparks on my lips when I see the framed diploma on the lavender wall above me. It pulls me back to that day last month when I walked the line to receive it. He filled my thoughts then, calling me back to the assignments he helped me with, and how clinicals were more of a breeze due to working with him. The Fleetwood Mac albums I was gifted for Christmas from Robbie sit beside me, all thanks to his contagious taste in music. Somehow, he was there with me for everything, even if he really wasn’t. The first snowfall this winter, the first anniversary of my dad’s diagnosis, the day of my recent Bar Exam, and anytime I saw something that reminded me of him. That perhaps was the easiest way he appeared in my thoughts of all, coming forth from his home in the back of my head to make an appearance. Because for some reason, he keeps reminding me that I am where I am, all thanks to him.

“Skye?” I murmur, lightly knocking my fist against her door. She turns to me with an inquisitive look, brunette eyebrows raising.

“I need to tell you something, and you can’t be mad at me.”

“When you start a sentence like that, Ree, you’re pretty much guaranteeing that I’ll be mad,” she almost laughs, beckoning me over with a hand, pausing the video she watches on her phone with the other. “Come here, you look like a lost puppy.”

Exhaling slowly, the nerves tickle along my skin as I cross the room. Scooching over, Skye gives me some room to sit down beside her.

“So you know that I haven’t been able to find a new job since graduation, which was now a month ago,” I begin, eliciting a simple nod from her as she licks a spoon coated in peanut butter. “Well, I just applied for one.”

Her face morphs into one of happiness suddenly, a smile covering her features. “Ree, that’s great! Why would I be mad at you?” Skye beams, a melodic laugh flowing from her lips. Gently, the happiness dissolves from her face to be replaced with confusion. “Wait, why would I be mad at you again?” she asks firmly, cocking her head to the side. It takes her about ten seconds, but once that happens, there’s no going back. The realization unfolds on her face quickly, eyes widening and mouth settling into a firm line.

“Becky, you did not! You did not apply there! You bloody idiot!” she almost shouts, wagging the spoon of food at me.

“It was the only open position I’ve come across in months, Skye! You know that I started looking in November when my clinical was wrapping up at Turner and Jones. They didn’t even hire me, Skye, and that’s unheard of! Somehow every firm in London is full of lawyers, and isn’t hiring any new ones! I had to!” I confess, trying to explain myself. Her hard-set jaw tells me that I haven’t fooled her yet, or won her back to be in her good graces again.

“You didn’t have to, Ree! You’re not going to be happy there, you know that!”

“So what? It’ll be experience on my resume then!” I object, trying to knit together a reasoning for my decision.

“Who bloody cares about your resume, Ree?! You know what you’re doing walking in there, again! You can’t go back to work for him, you know that! Are you bloody stupid applying to work at Harry’s firm?” she explodes, face sewn together with anger and disgust. It almost breaks my heart, but lately it takes more than that to hurt me.

“No, don’t! Let me explain. I know I have a good shot at getting the job. One, I’ve worked there before and as long as it went well, most places will jump to hire somebody who’s familiar and they had before. Two, I know how stuff works there. Sure it may have changed in the last two years. But I know their filing system, their database, and I sat in on enough fricken consults to know how they work. So I know their process and how they run things with cases. I even know their bleeding copier, Skye. Three, I know that they pay their employees fucking good, and I need that now instead of what the admin job gives me. Four, my experience probably trumps any other candidate who is going in there fresh-faced from uni. I worked there already, and I work at the freaking courts! And five, I won’t let him get to me, Skye. I need this job more than I need him, I wouldn’t have already filled out the application if I couldn’t accept that. I’m over him.”

“Oh bloody hell, Ree, you already filled out the app,” Skye sighs, dropping her head into her hand. She runs her fingers through her blue and purple hair, a long groan leaving her lips. She lifts her head to look over at me with honesty painting her features. “And what if you walk back into his fucking firm, and suddenly, you’re not over him anymore?”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out once I get there. Or if I even get there, if I’m hired,” I confess, exasperated by her interrogation.

“Ree, for all we know he’s still dating that girl. You know that’s going to kill you having to see it firsthand, even more than with Amber,” she coos, reaching a hand out to massage my knee.

“I know, but I just- I have this feeling, Skye. Maybe it’ll work,” I whisper, dropping my eyes to play with the ring on my pointer finger.

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I quit and find a different job. I’ve already quit a job there before, it can’t be too hard to do it again,” I divulge with a huff.

“I just don’t want you to put yourself through hell working for him again, Ree, you don’t need that a second time.”

“I know. Trust me, I know,” I agree with a spiteful laugh, trying to hide my emotions, but I’ve never been good at doing that with Skye. Or Harry, which makes me doubt this one hundred times more.

What the fuck am I doing?

Mindlessly, I watch as tornadoes form in the murky brown liquid after I remove the spoon with a clanking sound. With a random deep breath, they whirl around in the mug before my eyes, and collapse into nothingness.

“No luck yet?” somebody asks, stirring my attention. Looking up, I find Sophie shooting me a smile as she pours steaming water in a mug. “With the job prospects?”

“Um, no,” I answer automatically, my sure-fire answer as of recent. “Well, actually I applied for one last night, but I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

“How come?” she inquires, taking a seat at the oval table across from me, jigging a tea bag up and down in the scalding water.

“It’s at the firm I worked at before, which didn’t end too well on my side,” I reveal, avoiding her prying gaze as I bring the hot coffee to my lips.

“Oh,” she says suddenly, dropping the tea bag into the water, the string hanging limply over the side. “It’s been a few years, maybe it’ll be a new beginning for you. Don’t worry too much, love. I’ll give you the best bloody recommendation you’ll ever hear when they call,” she almost giggles, patting me on the back before leaving the room.

A smile sits atop my lips at her words, but I don’t let it sink in, because I’ve been conflicted about my decision ever since I made it. What happens if I get the job and Harry’s still with her? Can I handle watching him love another girl again? No, I know that I can’t.

“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath, standing to my feet and soon dumping the caffeinated contents of my mug down the drain. Shaking my head with gritted teeth, I wash it out before setting it in the rack to dry.

Returning to my desk, I wake my desktop up as I try not to die of boredom from staring at the same four walls for the rest of my day.

“Are you still mad at me?” I ask promptly after disposing of my slushy boots, closing the apartment door behind me.

“Am I still mad at you for making a decision that you’re going to regret? Yes, I am,” she replies coldly, the fridge door closing behind her before she wanders to the sofa.

Groaning, I drop my purse on the kitchen island before waddling to the bathroom with a full bladder.

“Your phone is ringing!” she screams down the hall a second later as the toilet flushes below me. Swinging open the door, I dash down the hallway in my socks, almost losing my footing once I arrive in the kitchen. Yanking my phone from my open purse, I find an unfamiliar number staring back at me. But when I see that it’s from London, I don’t waste a second dragging my thumb across the touchscreen.

“Hello?” I answer, trying to compose myself as I escape to my bedroom, closing the door behind me quietly.

“Hi, is this Rebecca Holte?” a voice replies, sending my heart into my stomach. I don’t know whether it’s because of the fact that it’s not his voice, or that it’s one that I recognize. And one that I associate with him.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hi, Becky, this is Myles from Styles and Lawson. It’s been a while since I spoke to you last, how are you doing these days?” the voice responds with a smile in his words, quickly bringing one to my lips.

“Myles, hi! I’ve been good thanks, I just finished up uni for my LLB. How have you been? I hope everything at the firm is going well.”

“I heard, that’s great. Good for you, Becky. I’ve been good, thanks for asking, I got engaged recently so that was pretty great. And the firm is doing rather well, thank you. We all miss you here, and I see you’ve applied for the open associate position. I’d love to have you in for an interview. When are you free a morning this week?” Myles says, sending jolts to my sensitive heart with his words. I almost lose it right then and there, but I compose myself and hurry over to my calendar above my desk.

“Congratulations, Myles, that’s so exciting! Yes, that would be great. Let’s see, I’m free on Thursday morning, I don’t have anything until ten,” I respond, floating over to my bed where I take a seat, jiggling my knee impatiently.

“Thank you, I’m excited. Alright, Thursday it is then. How does a nine am interview sound to you? You still know where to find us?”

“Yes, of course, and nine am sounds great. Is there anything you’d like me to bring for the interview just so I know?” I inquire, soon finding myself nibbling at my fingernail. Rolling my eyes at my nervous self, my hand falls to my lap.

“No, I don’t think so, I believe your application has everything, but thanks. I’ll see you in a few days then, Becky. I’m looking forward to it. Have a great rest of your evening,” he finishes, heartfelt honesty showing through in his words.

“Thanks, Myles. I’ll see you Thursday, and you as well.”

I fall back onto my bed with a squeal of excitement, thoughts whizzing through my head as a seemingly permanent grin covers my face. It only wavers a tad when his face pops into my thoughts, because I knew I couldn’t avoid it. I can’t avoid him, especially not now with my interview in a few days.

I’m not really sure what to think of that, or of any of this for that matter.

The next few days only made me grow more nervous and unearthed old memories of him I didn’t know I hid away. Inside jokes I forgot that we had sprang up, as well as the few times I beat him in cribbage, all the times he beat me in Scrabble, the casual hugs that we didn’t even think about, and what he said at my going away party. That memory hurt me the most, finding the irony in it and trying to figure out what it means now. He said that he wanted me to go back into law, because he knew I’d do great things, but what will he think when he sees me walk in that door for the interview? Will Harry be happy to see me?

When Thursday morning rolled around, I felt like I was going to throw up into my oatmeal, unsure if breakfast really is the most important meal of the day.

“Why are you staring at like it’s going to grow legs and walk away?” Skye questions, arriving on the other side of the island, leaning her crossed arms against the counter.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me, because you’re mad that I applied for a job at Harry’s firm,” I grumble, listening to the disgusting sound the oatmeal makes as I stir my spoon around in it.

“Well, I wasn’t talking to you because I was mad at you, but something changed.”

“What’s that?” I sigh, getting to my feet and walking around her. I pop open the trash bin’s lid by pressing on the pedal, and I shovel the oatmeal into the bin.

“This,” she announces gently, patting my arm until I turn to look at her. I only catch a glimpse of what sits on her phone’s screen, before closing my eyes.

“I don’t want to see his Instagram, Skye. What the fuck?” I exclaim, giving her a dirty look. Scoffing, I rinse out the bowl and set it in the dishwasher.

“You mean you haven’t looked at it in the last six months?” she questions in disbelief.

“No not that I’ll admit to. Why the fuck would I want to do that and see pictures of how happy he looks with his new girlfriend?” I retort, slamming down the handle to the tap, then drying off my hands.

“Because it’s safe to look now, Ree. He doesn’t have any pictures of her on there anymore.”

“What?” I blurt, spinning around fast and quickly cursing my slippery white booties.

“You heard me,” she smiles, holding out her phone for me, but I don’t bite. Not yet. “It looks like they broke up, who knows how long ago. There’s no evidence they even dated on his profile.”

If the oatmeal had made its way past my lips and to my stomach, I’m positive it would’ve came back up by now. A peculiar response to the jittery happiness coating my body in buckets. Hastily, I yank it from her hands and slide my thumb up the screen. Goddammit, she’s right, I realize as I search his feed, not a picture of her in sight.

“Oh my God, this is so mean of me to say, but this makes me so happy,” I squeal, pressing the back of my fist against my beaming lips.

“I thought it would, and I couldn’t think of a better pick me up before your interview today.”

The buzz of elation and disbelief coursing through my body takes precedence over the feeling of her arms coming around me from behind. She presses a loud smooch to my cheek, giggling as she watches me freak out while holding her phone.

“Well, are you going to say something more? Like a ‘thank you,’ ‘I’m going to jump his bones when I see him’, or ‘this is the best news ever’,” she chuckles, pulling away to come to stand across from me. “Ree,” she urges, pushing at my chest as I continue to stare at the screen in silent astonishment.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, dragging out the last syllable much like somebody I know. “I can’t believe it, and I wouldn’t if I heard it anywhere else, because there’s no way I was touching his Instagram, well when sober,” I chuckle, soon my words falling into a content sigh as I browse the pictures of him. His pictures.

“You can look later, missy, it’s almost quarter after eight. You better get going if you don’t want to be late.”

“Right right, I should go and finish getting ready,” I agree, nodding along to our words.

“Go kill ‘em, Ree, and show him what he’s been missing. You can look at the pics later, but you can go and ogle him all you want right now. Cheers, babe,” Skye grins, giving me the quickest hug in the world before leaving out the door with a wave.

“Oh boy, here we go,” I mumble, exhaling before turning down the hall to my bedroom. “See you in less than an hour, Harry.”

Even the lifts smell the same, like expensive carpeting and some cheap air freshener you hang in your car. Luckily, the familiarity relaxes me and keeps me on my feet when I get off onto 17. All of the nerves and worries buzzing inside of me are almost let loose when I scan the floor in surprise. Immediately, my heart plummets at the disappearance of my desk and the remodel. There’s a short hallway by the lifts still, but to my left there’s a lobby with a front desk where none other than Amelia sits. Large gold letters behind her spell out the firm’s name on the wall. Again, I’m surprised.

“Oh hi, Becky!” she almost shouts when I walk up to the dark coal granite desk, pulling her shock of red hair away from her desktop.

“Hi, Amelia. It’s great to see you again. How are you?” I answer, my fists probably growing white due to how hard I’m holding the straps of my most professional looking purse.

“I’m doing lovely, thanks. How are you? I hear you have an interview for the open job!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here for. I’m a few minutes early, but I’ve heard that doesn’t hurt,” I share, curling my toes within my black heels.

“No, you’ll be alright, love. It’s better to be early than late. If you just want to have a seat and I’ll let Myles know you’re here. Good luck, Becky!” she smiles, her golden heart necklace jiggling above her freckled cleavage.

“Thanks,” I respond, turning around to find the new addition of seating across from the desk.

Trying and failing to breathe deeply, I pick a chair at random. The brown cushion is lumpy and scratchy under the thin fabric of my black dress skirt. Setting my purse down, I take a look around. When it’s safe to, I adjust the berry red chiffon scoop neck blouse underneath, trying to pull it up further. I don’t get long to debate fastening the button of the matching black blazer over my waist, because I hear my name. Sitting up erect, I find Myles walking towards me.

“Hey, it’s great to see you, Becky,” he chirps, holding out a hand as I stand to my feet. “How are you, love?”

“Thanks for seeing me, Myles, it’s good to see you too. I’m fine, thanks, and how are you?” I respond cheerily, grabbing onto his hand and returning his firm handshake.

“Just fine, thank you. If you’ll follow me, we’ll take a walk back to my office, although I’m sure you remember how to get there.”

“Yes,” I confirm, nodding. Anxious breaths leave my lips as my heels click and clack as I follow behind him, down the hallway branching to the side. The hallway, the one I couldn’t forget if I ever tried. I look around, trying to act normal and curious, but the only thing I’m curious about is where he is. And why he’s not here. Did something happen? Is it only Myles interviewing me today? But that wouldn’t make sense, if they’re partners and own the firm together.

My questions are whisked under the rug when Myles opens the door for me, inviting me into his spacious office I barely recognize. It’s hard to remember what it looked like when I’d only stepped foot in it once or twice, but the area itself is much like Harry’s. More bookshelves and framed pictures occupy his office compared to Harry’s though, or what his office looked like two years ago. It’s close to Harry’s, if only turned to the left a touch, and instead the tall windows are to the right of his desk. Standing in his doorway, his long desk faces me.

“Have a seat, please. Make yourself comfortable, there’s nothing to be nervous about here,” he insists warmly, closing the frosted glass door without a sound. I wish that was easier said than done as I choose one of the seats in front of his glass desk. Swallowing, I gather my shoulder-length curls to fall over the front of my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I respond softly, habitually checking for the diamond on my silver necklace, finding it sitting below the hollow of my throat.

“I don’t think you were ever in my office much,” he says lightheartedly, sandy blonde eyebrows quirking into a question above his sky blue eyes.

“I was just thinking that, and I don’t think I have. Maybe on one or two occasions,” I think aloud, our soft laughs mixing together as he unbuttons the lone button on his gunmetal gray suit.

“Yeah, figures. So thoughts on the remodel?”

“Oh, I really like it. It looks very nice.”

“Thank you, it was long overdue. We did it last summer, took us a bit,” he answers, settling into his high-backed black chair, an iMac sitting to his right. My eyes crawl over his unfamiliar desk, and as if my heart wasn’t thrashing around in my chest as it is, it takes a leap. The sight of the second chair to his left is only just registering in my head when I hear rushed footsteps come to a stop in the hallway, and the door opens.

“‘m sorry ‘m late, tha copier was actin’ up. We really need t’ jus’ buy a new one,” a voice blurts out, closing the door behind them.

The knots coiling my insides together tighten at the sound of his voice, but a second later they relax after having waited so long to hear it. I knew it was coming. My eyes briefly lift to Myles to see him shake his head, carding a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us are surprised,” Myles snickers, dropping his hand to meet my eyes. In them, he holds a revealing look accented by a smile. Almost like he knows what I’m thinking. “Harry, I think you know our applicant.”

A deep breath hardly settles into my lungs as I turn my body to face the door. As if a smile wasn’t finding its way to my lips already, observing the one that paints his in seconds is contagious.

“Becks!” Harry exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air and almost dropping the stack of papers he holds in one ringed hand. “My’ why didn’t ya tell me she was interviewin’? C’mere, love, ‘s been so long,” he insists ardently, wrinkles forming in his glossy black blazer when he holds his arms out for me.

“Well, didn’t want you to be biased, now did we?” Myles jokes from behind me as I get to my feet.

“I wouldn’t have been biased,” Harry scoffs, his face falling into a look of disbelief.

“Hi, Harry,” I mumble, grinning as I walk into his arms.

“Hi, bug. Long time no see,” he hums softly in his molasses-like drawl. I feel the first moments of relief when his long arms surround me and draw me into his chest. Something I’ve waited ages for, if only seven months. “I so woulda been biased, we both know I was lyin’.”

“Oh, I know,” I giggle against his collarbone, trying not to lose myself in his layers of black clothes, and the smell of vanilla covering him. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, much betta now that yer here. Blimey, yer our nine o’clock interview. Me li’l lawyer Becks, look at you,” Harry coos, pulling away far too soon to my liking to look me in the eyes. I hope that mine look just ten percent as sparkly as his do, I think as his hands cup my shoulders. My knees soon feel wobbly at the sight in front of me, one I so dearly missed. The deep dimples. Crinkly eyes. Bubblegum lips. A light dusting of stubble along his cheeks. Glistening greens. Reddening cheeks. The longer curls that still only fall to his ears. That smile he has just for me.

“Yep, that’s me,” I suffice with a nervous laugh.

“And I’m Myles, so shall we get this interview rolling?” Myles pipes up sarcastically, the click of his pen finishing his words.

“So proud o’ you y’know, ya’ll do great,” Harry whispers to me and only me, squeezing my arm before leaving my side.

“Thanks so much,” I mumble in return, catching his wink of an eye at me.

“So now that my colleague is finally here,” Myles begins emphatically, earning a laugh from the three of us. Smoothing down the back of my skirt, I return to my seat, sure I could win a tomato look-alike contest right about now with my blushing cheeks. “Should we get started?”

Harry croons a reply as he falls into the chair beside Myles, adjusting his all-black attire. Suddenly, the pressure in the room has increased tenfold, and I find it hard to keep my hands still in my lap. I’m positive they can see my rapid pulse and galloping heart beneath my skin, but Myles is too occupied by Harry annoying him. I hold back a laugh as Myles gives Harry a dirty look, finally getting him to sit still. Myles soon returns his soft stare back to mine, and so does Harry who gives me a confused look, flitting between Myles and me with shrugging shoulders. It’s like he’s saying what did I do wrong?

“Well, I’ll start by saying we were very impressed with your application, Becky.”

“Thank you,” I reply, asserting my gaze to Myles. One, because he’s the person talking. Two, I know I couldn’t keep it together if I was looking at Harry. I already feel weak all over from seeing him, and from that hug. Goddammit, his hugs never fail to do that.

“I woulda been even mo’ impressed if ya hadn’t hid tha bloody name when we went ova it, My’,” Harry tsks with a shake of his head curly head, but Myles ignores him.

“I see you graduated recently with your LLB, and top of your class even,” Myles continues, flipping through my stapled application. It didn’t take me an hour to fill it out for nothing.

“Yes I did, the middle of last month, December,” I comment, failing to hold back a smile when I glance Harry mouthing ‘good job’ with his hand-shaped into the perfect sign.

“Congratulations, that’s very impressive, especially after returning to uni after a few years off,” Myles adds. “I even see that you did rather well on your Bar Exam here, and that’s not an easy exam to pass.”

“Yeah, it isn’t. I’m glad my studying paid off,” I explain, earning a nod from Myles as Harry reads over his shoulder. He soon lifts his head to wink at me, silently clapping his hands towards me. Oh, Harry.

It’s a wonder I don’t fudge up on any answers throughout the next twenty minutes with Harry over there teasing me. I only feel the hints of relief when I’m sitting in my car later, my head on the steering wheel. My thoughts are consumed by that hug and the smile he was wearing all for me. It stayed on his face all throughout Myles’ questions and his own for me, ones that were much less intimidating with those grinning lips. It even remained until the end when I shook their hands, feeling his linger for a few seconds, but then again so did mine. His words rang in my mind as I walked to the lift, thinking over my answers and my presence, but unable to think about much else besides the two men saying I’d hear from them in the next few days regardless.

Now, for the waiting game, the one I’m not very good at. I’m even worse at it when it has anything to do with Harry.

“My’, we hafta hire her,” I announce suddenly, seconds after I can no longer hear the noise of her departing heels. The sound does nothing for the adrenaline coursing through my veins, leaving my body simultaneously jittery and exhausted.

“We still have interviews for the rest of the day, Harry. Bloody eight of them,” Myles responds coldly, disagreeing with me as he writes something down on the printed copy of her application.

“Myles, y’know she’s gonna be tha best one. She knows how everythin’-.”

“No, I don’t know that until we interview the rest, Harry,” he retorts, returning to his writing with a perturbed frown. His name jumps from my lips in an argument, but he stops me there. “I know, Harry . . I know what you’re saying, but I can’t just tell these people to go home. We’re the only firm hiring in town from what I hear.”

“Y’know I won’t like ‘em one bit. I can’t afta Becks was jus’ here and tha bloody great job she did interviewin’,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, trying not to think about how wonderful it felt to have her between them. How natural it left, like home. The surprise that took the breath from me at the sight of her sitting in that chair to be interviewed by us. Just how much I fucking missed her all these months. Lastly, the way she somehow looked even more beautiful after going without seeing her for seven months.

Fuck.

“I know, and I want to hire her too, but wrap it up, Harry. We have another one that’ll be here any minute.”

“Ya, whateva,” I reply curtly, swinging my chair around to look past him and peer down at London. I’m consumed by the question of which car is hers down there driving among the skyscrapers, or if she’s still in the lift. Once again, too far away for me.

Too far is just out of arm’s reach.

I don’t even get a chance to lose myself in my thoughts of how gorgeous she looked without even having to try, how her hair has grown longer with her adorable waves, the happiness that washed over her face when she turned to look at me, and the fountain of regrets that filled me at the sight of her.

Regrets I want to rectify, and ones I know that I should have a long time ago.

“Ya, really?” I rasp softly, brow touching the sky as my face widens in disbelief.

“Yeah, go do it then,” Myles agrees, shooing me away with his hand and a pleased grin.

“Are ya gonna say it?”

“No.”

“My’,” I tease with a giggle, backing up towards the door, feet itching to reach my office.

“Hare,” he says firmly, meeting my eyes. A laugh sings from my lips as I look at him, smiling. “Fine, you were right.”

“I told ya, ‘m always right. Y’know ya won’t regret this, ‘s gonna be great. She’s gonna be great,” I smirk, pointing a finger at him before turning around to saunter down the hallway.

“Hare?” he calls after me. I respond by twirling around to face him, clapping my hands together happily. “I reckon it goes without saying that she’ll be your mentee then?” he says, sending the question into the air, and somehow I only grow more excited at it. I wasn’t sure if that was possible.

“Well ya, dunno why yer askin’,” I smirk, rubbing my hands together dramatically while biting my smiling lips. I actually manage to get a laugh out of him, but it quickly fades as he toys with something on his desk.

“Are you gonna be able to handle being that close to her again?” he inquires softly, not meeting my eyes. “I know how you still feel about her, Harry,” with that confession he returns his eyes to mine, more words held in them.

“Ya . . I promised meself ‘m not gonna fook it up this time,” I announce softly, feeling the weight of the words on my tongue, and in my heart.

“Hare, you better not fuck this up again. You know the universe doesn’t throw second chances at people so obviously like this.”

“I know, My, and ‘m not gonna waste it,” I deliver to him and the air, feeling the promise bind together immediately. I just hope I can keep it, this time. I have to.

The buzzing in my pocket is incessant as I twist the key in the lock. It takes too long after I struggled with shaking hands to slide it in correctly. First, I had it upside down, and then I dropped my ring of keys. Groaning, after I turn on a light, I fling my phone onto the sofa. A determination drives me as my feet pound through the apartment, the last thing I’m able to do right now is to retell the story to Skye.

I can’t wait any longer. Flinging the door open to my bedroom, I step over forgotten dresses, trousers, and blouses scattering my floor. I toe off my heels to add to the mix, feeling the same taste of that sweet relief when my hand touches my closet door. Quick breaths flow out of me as I rip it open, eyes scanning the shelves and hangers full of clothes.

“Come on, come on, where are you?!” I mumble aloud, pushing sheets of clothes to the side.

Tossing papers, fallen shirts, old cards, and balls of yarn from my knitting phase aside, I happen upon a patch of brown. But when I free it from the confines of the junk that litters my closet, my heart sinks at its unfamiliar appearance. Huffing, I shove it back onto that shelf, peering at the shelf above it on my tippy toes. I can’t remember the last time I rearranged in here, and at that realization, figurative cement lines my gut quickly. I’m two seconds away from giving up as my hands brush along the top shelf, only feeling books and magazines, but then I feel something.

An other worldly sigh drops from my lips when I pull down the heavy box, it falling into my arms. A sneeze flies from my nose at the layer of dust coating the top of the cardboard that I brush away. The anticipation has replaced the unpleasant feeling in my gut, and now my heart beats even faster, and harder. I sink to the floor right there, folding my knees under myself as I still sit in the smooth tight clothes from my interview which became work clothes. Setting it down in front of me, the box slides from my hands. With trembling fingers, I pry apart the flaps of cardboard woven together. Slowly, the floral lavender wrapping paper appears before my eyes, and that’s when the tears arrive.

“Harry,” I mumble aloud, words and thoughts racing around in my head. They steal the words from my mouth, and the moisture from my throat.

Exhaling slowly, my fingers wrap around the bigger box, a long rectangular shape. It’s heavy in my hands, and the paper is smooth, the flower shapes embossed into it. Brushing a tear away from the tip of my nose, I set it down on my lap, fingering the edge of paper on the side. I wonder if Harry wrapped these, and if he did, he didn’t do too shabby of a job, I wonder silently. A shock of dark purple catches my eye, and I see the card lying at the bottom of the box, but I ignore it for now. You’re last, because I know you’ll make me cry the most, I tell it.

The paper rips quickly between my fingers, but keeps its secret hidden until I tear the paper again, in one long sweep. A shiny black box meets my eyes, but I’m guessing it’s the back as I find words and small pictures. Flipping it over, I peel back a shred of the wrapping paper, sad to destroy the beautiful flowers. The sadness is met with a bittersweet happiness when the image on the front of the box graces my eyes, sending my hand to my mouth as a sob leaves it.

“Oh, Harry,” I cry, pressing my lips into a line as the cry washes over my body. “You didn’t.”

But he did, and I can’t believe my eyes as the Yamaha PSSA50 37-Mini-Keyboard sits in my hands. A mini keyboard for the piano nerd that I am, and always have been. He remembered, of course he did. The tears only fall faster and my body shakes harder when I peel back the paper on the smallest present, a violet Moleskine journal with a purple gel pen clipped to the top. They come harder when I peel back the wrapping paper on the last little rectangular shaped gift, the first season of FRIENDS on DVD. Then they fall all over the card, once I convinced myself to stop holding the three presents to my chest, ugly cries leaving my lips.

With tears scattering the front of the already opened card, I finally open it and see his messy handwriting covering the inside.

June 12th

To my Becks,

Happy Birthday, bug!!!! I know we haven’t talked much lately and I apologize for that. Life has been crazy for the both of us, I think would be safe to say. Alright let me think of all of the insults to call you old that I can think of since you love to do it for me. 26 though I remember being that age. It was shortly before I met you I think. I reckon you’ll enjoy being 26 and truly I hope it’s everything you want it to be. It’s the year you become a lawyer woohoo! I can’t wait to hear all about it I’m so proud of you for going back to uni and finishing up. I already know you’ll be a fantastic lawyer. Really. I remember you said once that you and your brother spend your birthday together and you have some sort of tradition that I can’t recall. I hope you had fun together. Anyways I hope you enjoy the presents and that you use them. I don’t need to explain the keyboard I don’t think, but I hope you can get back into piano with it - just have fun with it. I can’t believe I found a purple one :) The journal I should explain - it’s for you to write songs in. Well the DVD set doesn’t need much of an explanation either but we’ll have to watch it together soon. I miss watching FRIENDS with you already, you make me love Phoebe even more with that sweet laugh of yours. I know 25 was a rough year for you with a new job, uni, and your dad’s cancer so I truly hope that 26 is far better. It’s meant a lot to me that we’ve reconnected over the last several months and I hope it has for you too. I’m really happy that your dad is okay now and the cancer is gone. When things get less crazy we’ll do that lunch I promised, and you know that I keep my promises. We need to catch up so you can tell me all about your plans for big 26! Like have you been assigned a site for your clinicals in the fall yet to dip your toes into the lawyer life? Have you scheduled your Bar exam? Where’s your dream job at? Are you having fun buying fancy lawyer outfits, like you know I do? I still need to figure out what your favorite episode of FRIENDS is... I caught on telly the beach house one the other night and it made me think of you. Oh have you seen that clip where Phoebe gets caught in a sweater she tries to put on? I had tears in my eyes crying from that one the other day, Becks! Anyways I’m running out of room here but I want you to know I’m thinking of you on your birthday and that I wish you a wonderful one. I hope 26 is the best year yet and we’ll have to celebrate with drinks soon. Text me when you’re free for drinks yeah? I’m excited to see you and hear how your first day of being 26 was. Happy Birthday, bug!

Harry xxxxx

As if my heart doesn’t already feel like it’s going to burst from my chest, it receives a scare when I hear my phone ringing from the living room. I start to ignore it as the guilt and happiness form a cocktail in my heart, but when I listen closer, I realize it’s not the ringtone I have for Skye. Groaning, the card drops from my hands as I dash down the hall until I locate my phone in the pile of blankets. The weakness in my legs returns when I see who’s calling.

Harry (work)

“Hello?” I answer, feeling short of breath for so many ungodly reasons. Clearing my throat, I hope that my voice doesn’t sound weird to him. By weird, I mean that I had just been crying.

“Hey, Becks. ‘s Harry. How’re ya doin’, love?” he croons, pulling my lips into a smile that was hiding there. I feel it cover my face as his voice fills my insides.

“I’m doing well, thanks. I just got home from work.”

“Ah, quite tha busy day fer you, how was it?” his question trickles into my ears as I sink to the floor again, pulling the lavender keyboard onto my lap.

“It was good. How was your day, Harry?” I reply, pressing the ‘on’ button and adjusting the volume to a low setting.

“Long,” he chuckles with a dreary sigh. “Interviews all day long, some yesterday and tha day befo’, they’re not very much fun.”

“I can imagine. I don’t think they are for anybody,” I agree aloud, shouldering my phone and settling both hands on the keys. If I could, I’d blame it on being a girl, but the emotions bubbling up inside of me bring tears to my eyes as I play a quiet song. Instead, I blame it on him - his alive voice in my ear, and all of the words that his gift of this piano says, and the others. All of the words that I doubted and tried to hate him for not saying, when all along he did. All along, he still cared. I don’t know now how I could have ever doubted him.

“Ya okay, love? Frog in yer throat?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’m just playing my keyboard you got me, I love it so much,” I reply, willing the tears from my voice, but leaving the emotions there to seep through.

“Ah, ya don’ know how happy I am t’ hear that, Becks. ‘m so happy yer playin’ again. I hope maybe I can hear sumthin’ on it one o’ these days.”

“Me too, and yes I’ll have to play you something sometime,” I echo him, running my fingers over all of the buttons for different sounds, recording, beats, etc. “I uh wanted to thank you again for it, and the other birthday presents. They were so thoughtful and sweet of you, they were perfect.”

“Aw, yer sweet, love. Yer welcome, ‘m really happy t’ hear yer still enjoyin’ em,” he responds, the molasses in his voice intensifying, followed by a pause. “Sorry, I should get t’ why I rang,” he titters from my shoulder and my laugh follows his.

“It’s okay, it’s nice to talk to you like this.”

“Thanks, but ya might get sick o’ me soon, coz I wanted t’ let y’know that ya got tha associate position, bug,” he coos in my ear, the smile leaking from his voice, letting me know it’s there without seeing it.

“What?! No way!” I exclaim excitedly, losing my fingers in my hair in disbelief. “Harry, t-thank you so much!” I continue, setting the keyboard down to get to my feet. With wide eyes and a smile plastered across my face, it trickles to the rest of my body where I pump my fist in the air. I almost feel like dancing.

“Yes, really, love. Ya got tha job- I mean ‘m not gonna lie, ya had it from tha second ya walked in tha door. Couldn’t find a betta candidate than you, Becks,” Harry hums, causing the feeling in my legs to liquify, suddenly making me feel like Jello all over. “And um, you’ll be my mentee then, and ‘ll be yer mentor fer prolly tha first few years, I reckon. Sumtimes if ‘m outta town fer a case far way, or t’ change it up if there’s a good case sumwhere else, ya may work with Myles or Rose. Ya can learn loads from ‘em. Otherwise, you’ll be with me e’ry day workin’ with me on me cases and learnin’ from me. I mean, as long as yer alright bein’ with me,” Harry murmurs as I pace around my bedroom, soon falling to sit on my bed, because at the sound of his voice I can’t stand anymore. Not after those words can I stay standing. My head falls into my hands where I can feel the smile against my palms, my legs jiggling excitedly under my arms.

This can’t be real, can it? I got the job, and I get to work with him!

And he’s single again, remember that!

Yes, demon, I know. But wait, you’re actually right this time. You’re right?! Yes, he is single and I got the job, shadowing under him! Holy shit! Holy shit!

Time to jump his bones, Becky.

You may be right again.

Don’t fuck it up again, girl. Get him alr-

“‘s that okay, Becks, you workin’ with me?”

“Yeah,” I begin with warm cheeks as the giddiness overcomes me. “Hmmm, I don’t know, I think I might like working with Myles better,” I tease, keeping my voice even.

“Oh, um that’s okay too, I guess,” Harry sighs, the happiness in his voice going from eighty to ten real quickly. “I can ask My’, ‘m sure he wouldn’t-.”

“Harry, I’m just giving you a hard time. I’d love to work under you, i-it’d be a dream,” I respond adamantly.

Yeah, I’m sure there’s a lot of things you’d like to do that involve being under him, Becky.

Oh my god, shut up! I can’t deal with you right now. I can’t mess this up!

“Fook, Becks, ya gave me a fright there. Ya almost broke me li’l heart,” Harry whines but soon his dramatics end with his song-like laugh. It’s still as contagious as ever, bringing one to my lips. “Ya’d love t’ work with me, and it’d be a dream? Wow, I betta watch me ego, yer not helpin’ it.”

I savor hearing his melodic laugh in my ears, unsure of the last time I heard it, and so certain of how it easily starts to knit together all of the broken pieces inside of me. One by one. I feel a pang when I remember back to June and the nightmare I went through after seeing his picture, but I try to push it away. I try to not remember how it made me feel, and sometimes how I couldn’t get out of bed, or look at a picture of him without crying.

Okay, this is the angel speaking. Stop beating yourself up and thinking about that time. Because things are getting so good right now, I can’t even believe it myself!

I mean, she’s right, the demon says.

“Yeah, a dream,” I decide to say, interrupting my nostalgia from hell.

“Seems we have that in common. Always wanted t’ teach ya more ‘bout law when ya were me P.A. and ‘m glad now that I get t’. ‘s kinda hard t’ believe yer a full grown lawyer now, my li’l Becks,” Harry coos, his voice taking on the pitch of one you’d use when talking to children, but I enjoy it. I melt at the sound of it.

“Yep, I’m all grown up and ready to hit the courts!”

“Right, ya are. Um, I was hopin’ t’ start sum orientation with ya soon. I reckon yer still workin’ at tha courts on tha west side o’ town. I was hopin’ t’ do a full day, but we can divvy it up between a few if that works betta. Jus’ lemme know what ya can do and I can make it work. Lemme grab sumthin’ t’ write on here,” he explains, humming a tune as I hear noises from his side like drawers opening and clattering of pens.

“Yeah, of course and thanks for being so flexible. Let me look at my work schedule,” I reply, getting to my feet and crossing the room to my desk. Taking a seat, I also grab a pad of paper and a pen to have ready. Lifting my head, I narrow my eyes at the schedule I have hanging above my desk. “Okay, so I’ll let my boss Sophie know in the morning that my last day will be in two weeks. I am five days a week there, but I could do like eight to ten for a few days in the morning? I’m sorry, that’s kind of all I have right now for the next two weeks, but I can talk to my boss. Does that work for you, Harry?”

“Thanks, Becks, but I don’ wanna stretch ya too thin with two jobs goin’ on. We can always wait until . . what’s two week from monday? Mmmm, I see ‘s tha twenty-eighth, we can wait ‘til then, I don’t mind. I was jus’ wonderin’, ‘m sorry I shouldn’t have asked fer ya t’ come in any earlier,” he responds gently, eager embarrassment coating his words.

“No, it’s okay, Harry. I’ll see if my boss has any ideas when I see her tomorrow and I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“Ya, that sounds great. No rush, tho’. Everything will be fine if we wait ‘til tha twenty-eighth. It may not even take as long since ya know loads o’ tha protocols here already. But yeah, please don’t worry ‘bout it, Becks. We can wait two weeks,” he assures me, and I swear the happy buzzing inside of me only grows louder and impatient.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, ‘m sure, Becks.”

“Thank you. Is there anything you need me to do or like send in in the meantime?” I wonder aloud, jotting down a few things on the to-do list notepad I grabbed. These include telling Sophie about the new job, and starting at the firm on the 28th. I can hardly believe the words I’m writing.

“Erm, I think I jus’ need a copy o’ yer driver’s license fer identification, and uh a copy o’ yer LLB and law license. But ya can jus’ email me scans o’ those. Otherwise, everythin’ else was in yer application, I think. I guess if ya don’ have enuff suits ya could buy sum o’ those in tha next two weeks,” he replies with a giggle.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Harry. I’ll get right on those.”

“Yer welcome, Becks. ‘ll uh let ya go then. ‘m gonna head out anyways, go and have a bloody drink afta t’day, ugh,” he sighs. “So, I have it down as you startin’ on tha twenty-eighth. But we have eachotha’s numbas so if sumthin’ changes or ya have any questions jus’ lemme know. Do ya have any right now, love?”

“No, you answered them or covered them already, but thank you,” I respond, dropping the pen and scratching at the back of my neck. My cheeks are starting to hurt from all of this smiling, but I don’t think I ever want it to stop. Or for his voice to stop. “Wait, I have a little question. How about after my orientation, we get those drinks and lunch- well dinner we forgot about this summer?”

“Ya, ‘d love that, Becks. ‘s about time we did it, and now we can celebrate yer new associate job at tha firm! No betta reason t’, I reckon. Well, ‘ll let ya go, yer prolly starvin’ too,” he says, a laugh adorning his words, and finding its way into my heart. Again. “‘m lookin’ forward t’ havin’ ya back here with us, Becks. I really am. And ‘m excited t’ have ya workin’ with me ‘gain, I hope ya won’t get too sick o’ me. Don’ worry, it’ll be betta this time, I promise.”

Shaking my head, I try to steady my breaths with a deep inhale. It does little to calm the dancing of my heart and the jitters coursing through my body. I swear my mantra is and always will be that he doesn’t know what he does to me, he truly doesn’t.

“I’m really excited to come back to the firm to work with you again too, Harry. Thank you so much for the opportunity, and please tell Myles that as well. I have high hopes for round 2.”

“Me too, bug, it’ll be fun t’ have ya there as a colleague this time ‘round. ‘m excited t’ be yer mentor. Have a good night and take care, Becks. ‘ll talk t’ ya soon,” Harry finishes, that smile in his voice again. I just know it.

“Bye, Harry.”

I’ll see you soon, but two weeks isn’t soon enough. No, it’s not. I hope it can be sooner, oh God, please.

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 5 years

Text

Baton Pass! AU Part 2

To see Part 1, go here or here

Bakugou’s Palace was indeed a playground; the school was now made of jungle gyms and plastic tubing, metal poles and mulch covering the ground. The Thieves were already in their clothes - intruders even in the mind of someone who didn’t know them - and the front door of the school, now plastic like a little kid’s playhouse, were chained up with a broken swing.

“What just happened!? Where are we??”

Shocked, the thieves turned to see Izuku, who was practically shaking with incomprehension. His school is now a playground??? There’s a weird cat thing???? His friends are dressed weird????? (okay, he’s kinda used to that last one, but this is different even by Yusuke’s standards).

They’re all trying to get Izuku out of the metaverse so they can explain and Izuku is Not having it when Bakugou’s shadow arrives.

Unlike other shadows, who look fairly close to their counterparts, Katsuki’s is different.

Mainly because his look’s like a four year old, since that was when his insecurities started and overtook him.

He’s dressed like in a hero costume - his hero costume, only as if it were recreated by a child.

The shadow immediately starts cussing the thieves out (his voice is the same as teen Bakugou and its really unsettling). Then he notices Izuku, who has been standing there, horrified and loosely connecting things the thieves said before Bakugou interrupted to the Shadow.

Bakugou is Livid that “Deku” is here after “he spent his entire life trying to get rid of Izuku, but he just kept coming back. Like a mold. or a rat.”

Izuku is crying. The shadow mocks him for it, saying that if he was smart, he’d leave. “But Deku’s aren’t smart, are they?” So he attacks Izuku.

The Thieves intervene, but Bakugou is an incredibly strong shadow, able to out maneuver them with incredible speed.

Izuku, watching his friends being beaten by his bully, begs Bakugou to know why he hates Izuku, why he’s trying to hurt his friends.

Bakugou scoffs. He rants about how “Deku is always looking down on him, thinking he’s so high and mighty for what? Being worthless? He doesn’t have friends, don’t fucking lie. No one would ever want a pathetic, useless piece of shit like him-”

“Don’t you FUCKING say that about him!!!!”

Ryuji immediately comes to Izuku’s defense. He and the others refute Shadow Bakugou, praising Izuku’s good qualities and showing their support for him. Makoto notes that Katsuki is just throwing his own insecurities back on Izuku, which shocks him. Izuku is touched.

But before he could say anything, Bakugou attacks, furious about these strangers standing up for his punching bag. He knocks them all back and is about to deliver the final blow when Izuku gets in between them.

“Get out of the way, fucking Deku!”

“You don’t have the right...”

“Huh!? What’d you say to me?”

“I said you don’t have the FUCKING RIGHT!! To hurt them! To hurt me! You’re not going to touch them because I won’t let you!”

“Then you can fucking DIE!”

But Izuku isn’t listening anymore. He’s collapsed, clutching his head in pain.

“Finally. Tell me, why have you let this fool hold you back from taking what’s yours? For years you’ve suffered under the boot of others; now, let them face your resistance! I am thou, thou art I - Your dream is closer than ever before! Now, call out my name and take it!”

“Come to me, Anansi!”

Flames erupt all around Izuku. When they dissipate, Izuku is left looking like a cowboy wearing a long flapping-in-the-wind duster, colored all black with the exception of neon green accents. On his head is a black cowboy hat and his mask is a black stretch of fabric around his face - an outlaw’s mask. On his wrists are grappling bracelets and across his back sits a long sniper’s rifle.

“Kaachan... Bakugou. For years, I looked past the abuse. I brushed away the burns and bruises and offered my friendship to you, over and over again, only to get pain! Well, no longer! Your insecurities, your quirk... neither of these things are an excuse for how you’ve treated me!”

“You fucking... how dare you stand up against me! You damn pebble!”

“I’m not a pebble! Like it or not, Bakugou, but I’m going to be the number one hero! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me! Now, Anansi!”

Izuku is the key to defeating Bakugou’s shadow - he’s the only one who can keep up with it, with both Anansi (who is super fast) and with his grappling bracelets. Together, they manage to defeat the shadow and escape into the real world.

Izuku is exhausted once he returns to the real world, vaguely realizing that he’s not going to be in any shape to clean the beach. The group hauls him back to his apartment, where they can be sure Futaba isn’t listening, and meet Mamadoriya, who is thrilled that Izuku is bringing friends home for once even if they’re older.

They explain the Metaverse and how they’re the Phantom Thieves. Izuku is a little on edge, since the media had been portraying the thieves as villains, but is calmed after some explanation. It’s not a quirk and it’s not like there are laws against it. Besides, they had saved lives by changing hearts, both literally and future-wise. So they’re basically heroes!

(It’s not like Izuku has much respect for the law anyway coughstainfightcough)

He wants to help and they let him with minimal protests. It’s not like they can stop him since he now has the Meta-app, and isn’t it better to work as a group? So Izuku’s a Phantom Thief now.

But what are they going to do about Bakugou? Izuku convinces them to leave it. It’s not like Bakugou can do anything more to him without risking his hero career. They should be focusing on Futaba.

Secretly, Izuku doesn’t want to change Bakugou’s heart at all. Not for any sentimental reason; Anansi is there to remind him of every bad thing Bakugou’d ever done to him. No, it’s because Bakugou is a child. He still has time to change, given that the teachers at UA don’t cater to his ego. Izuku wants to give him the chance to change on his own.

The group thinks they’ve solved what was going on with Izuku, but he corrects them. He was telling the truth, that his exhaustion was from hero training, but he managed to find a retired hero to train him.

Speaking of his training, All Might calls him. Izuku, panicking, manages to grab the phone before his friends can see the caller id but accidentally puts it on speaker phone. So All Might introduces himself to the group at Toshinori Yagi, All Might’s secretary and the Thieves decide to involve themselves with Izuku’s training.

****************************************************************************** Why I chose Anansi as Izuku’s Persona:

Trickster god (most important part, since all other level one personas in P5 are Tricksters).

Big part of oral culture, alluding to Izuku’s habit of muttering.

God of writing and stories

Celebrated by American slaves as a symbol of resistance and survival.

Uses cunning, trickery, and strategy in order to outwit stronger opponents, much like Izuku does.

Explaination of Izuku’s Persona outfit:

Cowboys were often seen as outsiders to society, with a high population of Men of Color and gay men. This is a reference for Izuku being on the outside of society.

Westerns often have a “find your own justice” vibe that I thought fitted Izuku well.

Outlaw mask - also on the outside of society.

Long rifle - This will actually involve his quirk, just let me get to it later.

Cowboy hat - I want Snipe and Izuku to do the “same hat” meme really bad.

#bnha #persona 5 #Crossovers #bnha persona 5 crossover #midoriya izuku #bnha deku #akira kusuru #persona 5 protagonist #p5 #THE PHANTOM THIEVES OF HEARTS #morgana #baton pass au #ryuji sakamoto #izuku has a quirk

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 22

“Dis will be thrilled to have someone so extravagant to blend in with this year. Usually Tili has to miss it and our robes aren’t as fine as the dresses and capes she chooses.”

“Cape? Wouldn’t she go as an animal?”

To himself he chuckled, “No, Dis is going as a Butterfly Storm Fairy again.”

“Butterfly?” You asked with a curious grin.

“Yes, we are quarter Hobbit and she uses that to her advantage to be extravagant. This year especially as she’s carrying and no one would dare try to stop her.”

When he paused in the living room to light the fire he shifted to face you, “Is this a Dwarf courting thing? Why she would ask me?”

“Could be she considers you family. Or an ally, they can be used to buffer in the first meeting of clans.”

“Is it really going to be that bad?”

He chuckled again shaking his head, “Which clan is she from?”

“Stone, foot, I think? And Baggins, obviously.”

“We usually get along with Stonefoot clan. I promise you, there won’t be any battles you would be eased in the middle of.”

“Well I doubt there would, I’m just not the best in my opinion to buffer, I barely know you all and I’ve met her parents once.” Your doorbell rang in another roll of thunder, turning your head you mumbled, “Now who is that?”

Frerin chuckled and said in your glance at him, “I thought Bilbo was the only one who could remind me of Gran and unexpected guests. Hobbit trait, even we feel the pull from time to time outside of the clan.”

To the door you went and opened it again this time finding Dis and Vili outside who grinned at your moment of confusion, “Hi.”

Dis, “We came to check on you, make sure you were doing well.”

“I am,” stepping back you opened the door wider and let the pair in, “Just gonna order take out.”

Vili closed the door asking, “Frerin’s here?” He said lowering to remove his boots after Dis slipped out of her shoes as well. “And lighting a fire.”

Frerin smirked standing up from lighting the fire, “Blustery outside Vili, perfect temp for a fire. Besides, always like a fire after a shopping trip. Jaqi insisted on picking lunch.”

“I’ll get the menu,” you said heading to the kitchen.

Dis moved closer asking lowly, “She ok?”

Frerin nodded, “Seems like it, bit put off, Mal asked Jaqi to play buffer at the festival this weekend. Well, didn’t ask really.”

Vili, “And her family?”

Frerin, “Her Amad is her clan. I think settling here is the big change. Full time, big house compared to her flat.”

Dis, “What were you buying?”

Frerin smirked, “Housewarming gift. She’s promised to be very cross with me when it arrives after letting me buy it for her.” Making the pair smirk in return.

“Ok, Chinese food, what do you guys like?”

Gathered around the menu on the couch you added it to the app for the local shop on your phone and paid through it then switched on the projector as Dis said, “Mal cornered you into attending the festival I hear?”

“It, it’s not like that. Just nerves.”

Vili, “Nerves to meet us?”

“Meet all of you, have the guys meet her parents for the first time.”

Dis shifted, “Her parents are cautious on the courtship?”

Vili, “Is it because she’s being courted by two suitors at once?”

“No,” you wet your lips, “That’s not what I mean. Just, they weren’t spring chickens when they had her.” That had them nodding haltingly, “They’re just protective, she was a surprise after years of having stopped trying.” The admission softening their expressions, “I mean, they even were wondering about me when we first met, wanted to make sure I was a good influence when she kept bringing me up.”

Frerin chuckled, “You, a bad influence?”

Dis, “No doubt they got over that quickly.”

Vili, “Anything we can do?”

You shrugged, “I don’t have babies. No clue. I do however have a bear in my backyard. You all seem more than sensible, guys are adorable, don’t know them that well past they’ve got a good trade, mechanics on a pit crew. Once you get past the fact they’re all fresh out of their teens, give or take some years,”

Vili, “That would be an issue?”

“To be blunt, she’s a Dwobbit. There’s two of them, depending on when they decide to get physical,”

Dis nodded, “Pebbles.”

“Yup.”

Frerin, “Well I doubt that would be an issue so early. I’ll keep the boys busy if I have to.”

“Doubt Mal would like that.”

Vili, “Neither would the boys, but even we had some limitations on time together. They will get over it.”

Switching to a court tv show you all settled into the couch easing the center foot rest out to slide sideways before removing the cushion revealing the wooden top that Vili helped you settle the food onto. Frerin brought out some plates and the adorably small bottles of juice to go with the meal your conversation bled through the show you all commented on. A glance at Dis rubbing her back when the food was over had Vili asking, “Back hurt?”

She shook her head, “Just kicking. We should get some mandarins on the way home.”

“I have some, if you want some. Tons of fruit in the fridge.”

The guys helped to carry the dishes into the kitchen setting them in the sink while Dis grabbed a mandarin and looked in the fridge and claimed one of your boxes of raspberries, “Ooh, raspberries.” She straightened up and looked at you making you giggle.

“Help yourself. I have four boxes left. I also have some blueberry jam if you guys want it. Not a big fan of blueberries, used to give it to my neighbors.”

Frerin, “Ooh, I’ll take some of that.” You nodded and went to the pantry showing them your jam and preserve supply dropping their jaws.

Vili looked you over and you said, “I grow a lot of fruit. Like, a lot.”

A hug was taken by Frerin with a promise to see you in the morning and if their hands weren’t full with reusable totes of fruit and jars from your pantry Dis and Vili would have done the same, both thanking you and wishing you good night.

Exhaling slowly you locked the door behind your back looking through the entrance hall. Back to the living room you went and put on a music video channel and went to rinse off the dishes you loaded into your washer. Drying off your hands you left the cloth on the counter and started swaying and bouncing along to the songs through your house. Happily and curiously your birds joined in on the fun bopping and dancing along, a fun hour was spent until the rain came down heavily and the storm shutters began to ease down. Under the stargazing glass roof of the greenhouse you joined them in watching the storm get blocked out triggering the crystal lanterns inside to light up.

Out again you went shutting off the music switching the channels until your phone buzzed and you smirked seeing a message from Mal that her scooter was finally out of the shop and it was just her luck that it had started to rain ten feet from her building. Easing your laptop closer you opened it starting to look at scooters and the road requirements for them. You were just a subway stop away now and with everything in town it wouldn’t be unreasonable to get yourself one. It certainly would silence your friends on the walk home past midnight. Rain however would be a hindrance, however those days you could always take the subway.

Her rant on the rain had you messaging back, “How much was your scooter?”

“Not certain, was Mom’s in school, Adad fixed it up for me, why?”

“Think I might look into getting one. Might stop people from worrying about me walking past midnight.”

“I think you’d love a scooter! We could match!”

“True. Don’t think I could pick a pink one.”

“Just don’t forget a helmet.”

“I know. My oldest friend is a racer. He would tear out his hair if he found out I didn’t wear one.”

“Agh, my window wiggled open. Talk to you tomorrow, have to fix it.”

“Night.”

With a sigh you sat back then hopped up to head to your study fetching your legal pads for the latest book in your series to write out the ideas and bits of dialog that flooded into your mind. Up till nightfall you wrote feeling your eyes drooping signaling you to take them back to your study, turning off the show. With the pads secured in your mini safe tucked in one of your trunks into the bath you went to scrub the stray ink off your hands, that once gone freed you to plug in your phone and crawl your way under your covers and fall asleep.

Half dazed again you plopped on your couch post breakfast waiting for the doorbell to sound grumbling about how late you had stayed up and the three video messages you had received from your family about a recital your sisters had along with a third from Cirdan flaunting his melon patch that he had harvested. The interruptions however unexpected were infinitely welcome as a tether to your family. A welcome warmth seeping from you into your home reminding yourself just how you had planned to fix up the spare rooms to bring them out one day. Quotes for the installation of the built in bunk beds had been added to your list and seemed to be modest a cost without the mattresses, which would near double it. Buying the house was a small fortune, and it seemed filling it would cost the same. But a text had torn you from sleep and up you climbed to your feet to head out into another blustery day making your shirt flap around you and braid circle you almost twice.

Halfway sliding your way to the car you climbed in and flashed Frerin a grin. “Thanks again.”

“No need to thank me. Trouble sleeping?”

With a giggle you showed him one of the pictures your family had sent you with your mother and sisters, all three with peach colored curls, mint eyes with silver speckles, around Cirdan with his emerald eyes, pastel pink hair and braided beard to his chest smiling widely with armfuls of melons. “Got some videos last night. Two recital performances and Cirdan’s melons. They’re enjoying their spring.”

“That’s good.” He said backing out of your drive.

“Yes it is. You sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”

A brief stop at the shop had you sipping on your cider as Frerin got tangled in a call over speaker phone concerning work parting you with finger waves, his being reluctant as if he had wished to say something. Out you popped and headed inside the lobby where you found Glorfindel and Ecthellion waiting. The pair beamed at you and the latter said, “Thursday,” Your brow inched up, “I have the final figures and now we are just hashing out the wording. I’ll get it finished today, hopefully they will have their end signed tomorrow and you on Wednesday with wheels turning on Thursday for their ad to be posted and their side to settle on an advance for your sending a draft of the novel in to Gorgo. Though I doubt it is to edit and critique but to gain a sneak peek into the series.”

With a giggle you replied, “No doubt, and that’s good news.”

Glorfindel, “Better news, we got a quote on those stickers, next week should be able to get a few thousand ready for purchase, surely with more to follow in pre-orders on the website. I will have the ad up later today, plus let’s say 20 for you, your Naneth and the Durins of course to split.”

Tightly you hugged the pair earning tight hugs in return muffling your soft, “Thank you!”

Back again they stepped and Glorfindel asked guiding you to the lift asking, “Any plans today post tea stop?”

“Actually, I have to buy some shoes.”

They both said, “Ooh,”

“And, I’ve been considering a scooter, possibly.”

Glorfindel, “Nice.”

Ecthellion smirked asking, “What type of shoes?”

“Well the Festival this weekend, Mal asked me to be her buffer. I’ll wear my old costume, which is a bit long.”

Ecthellion, “What color?”

“Black and gold, for the dress. The feathers are all white.”

Ecthellion said, “Let me buy your shoes. I have time between calls and my sister needs some help shopping as well in Greenwood. Glori can help you with your scooter shopping.”

Out into the hall you stepped and said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Glorfindel, “We can at least look for you. It wouldn’t hurt.”

You nodded, “I suppose. They do seem reasonably priced and it is a short distance so aside from blustery and rainy days I could zip around quite easily, and safely, they have biking lanes here even on bridges.”

Ecthellion, “I think it would suit you nicely and ease you into car ownership.”

Glorfindel, “How do you think today will go over?”

“Well, it’ll be the test if I can keep this going on air and be convincing. Should be suspenseful all the same.”

Ecthellion, “No doubt about that.”

Mal from the lift came out with a huff, “First the rain now these winds. Get my scooter back from the shop and now I am left to hoofing it.” She looked you over, “Any thoughts on the scooter shopping since last night?”

“Thought I might go looking today. Just to browse. Feel things out at least.”

Mal said, “I’ll come too then, apparently the guys have to pick out the finishing touches to their costumes.” Pouting through a disappointed huff, she looked you over, “How did it go with Frerin? All cozy with the fire and his shopping spree?”

Weakly you chuckled and replied, “Dis and Vili showed up,” making her inhale sharply, “Came to check on me. We had lunch and I sent them home with a heaping helping of my jams and preserves, some of my berries and a mandarin too.”

Mal huffed, “Oh boots! I could have had lunch with their parents! Oh the luck of it all..”

Rubbing your hand on her arm you said, “Don’t be like that. You get to know them over the weekend. They are not half as vicious as they try to seem. You will get along well.”

Mal, “Oh I don’t doubt that, parents love me.” Making you smirk to yourself, “Just have to keep Adad from going off on the guys.”

“Oh I doubt he would go for the jugular. They make you happy, they have earned a chance to be heard out at least.”

Glorfindel said, “I am certain there is event enough to distract as well, Thranduil has shared it is quite amusing with interest enough for our first trip out.”

“How did it go?” Thorin asked noting his brother’s furrowed gaze in having to park and walk around the building to get in the much safer front door brushing his hair out of his face on his way to the counter.

“Buy the hedges.” Thorin huffed and Frerin blurted out, “I got interrupted by a work call.”

A twin pair of stewardesses from weeks prior sighed asking, “We haven’t missed her, have we?”

Dwalin said, “Show should start soon.”

The taller of the ladies said, “No, his forbidden lover. Only been half a week.”

Thorin rolled his eyes turning away from the pair while Frerin smirked and moved closer. The elder brother muttering, “Don’t start.”

Dwalin chuckled replying, “She shows up later.” Lower he continued, “Still besotted.”

Thorin rumbled, “I’m moving away from all of you.”

Frerin chuckled, “Good, I think our dear Mafioso would be needing a roommate. Someone to help her fill in her home.” Earning a glare from his brother only deepening his smirk. “You and I both know she feels a bit timid on spending all that money to fill all that space just for herself. Now, with a lover,” Thorin’s glare deepened, “she may feel more comfortable in it.” Frerin chuckled and said on his way to the office, “For now just let your mind wander to this weekend. She will be Mal’s buffer.” Parting Thorin’s lips in wonder as to how you would be dressed for the occasion finally allowing him to see you out of casual clothes. Not that he didn’t adore you comfortable, but he was curious to see what you could pull off for an event of this level.

Eyes shifted upwards at the sounding of the opening music for the show and with baited breath. Bunny’s opener was nowhere in sight and right into the thick of things the Countess and her family all delved into plotting with papers being scattered about and crumbled up. Nearly an hour plotting had bled into reminiscing as to where Bunny could have been taken until an abrupt cut off came with the clinking of coins in your palm to mime chains in Bunny’s waking up to a cackle from Holm.

Hair was standing on end by the first ad break you stretched your tongue and lips readying to start up again spilling more into the sinister back and forth delving out more of the pair of rarely spoken about characters. Harshly words were spat back and forth between the pair until Bunny was drugged and Holm said to his henchman to ready ‘the device’ a second ad provided the switch over and a bathroom break for you to return. From there to delve into a seemingly unrelated new pair of characters revealed to be treasure hunting off the edge of Rohan’s cliff side. Meaning was revealed as they set off a sonar device that backfired sending off an unintended electromagnetic pulse killing the power to several lands surrounding the cliffs. The final send off being Holm’s cries of rage and a pre copied grumbling from Bunny.

That tiny breath of hope giving everyone listening in a belief that their dear announcer had a chance of being rescued or possibly escaping at the playing of the closing music. Frerin had gone to the station in the second ad break parking in the garage to give himself time to listen to the show and be on time to fetch you back again. Upon seeing you with Mal and the tall golden haired Elf he exited his car flashing you a grin asking, “You seem pleased. It was a lovely show.” Looking to Mal he said, “I smell a plot afoot. I want in.”

Mal chuckled and said, “Jaqi’s looking at scooters today.”

Frerin smirked looking to you, “Just browsing, haven’t decided yet.”

Frerin chuckled then said, “All the same, I’m in. Oh, and I can drop you at the shop on the way Mal,”

Mal, “But..”

Frerin sent a wink her way, “A certain Durin is heading your way.” Parting her lips making her hurry over to climb in through his door as he laid the seat forward.

Glorfindel chuckled saying, “I’ll follow you then.” Patting your back to guide you to the car you let yourself inside.

It was just a few minutes to drop her off then turn around to head for the dealership just a couple exits away on the highway.

Dis inside the shop in a stop of her own finished off her own mug of tea and upon seeing Frerin’s car passing the shop she climbed to her feet as Dwalin asked in the car pulling away, “Guess they were dropping Mal off.”

Thorin in watching the car take off in the complete opposite direction rumbled, “Where are they going?”

Dis patted his back saying, “Frerin mentioned he was shopping yesterday, maybe he’s asking for her opinion on something.”

Thorin, “Perhaps, but who was in the car behind him?”

Dis smirked saying, “I will ask Mal at brunch with Bilbo and Frodo. Try not to worry. Frerin says she is doing well. Her main issue being adjusting to her new home compared to her old place.”

Thorin rumbled back in concern, “It’s that bad?”

Dis sighed, “You know how we all felt moving out the first time, she was there for centuries and in a matter of days she’s now in a huge place. It must barely feel lived in yet to her, only just found her hedge trimmer yesterday.”

Dwalin, “Oh that couldn’t have gone well. What’d she get?”

Dis, “Bear.” Looking to Thorin again she said, “In time.”

Grumbling in her absence they turned to distract themselves hoping you wouldn’t take long, though they could always drop by your place after if it took too long.

“Hmm.” Easing your fingers around your braid you untangled from inside the glass wrapped dealership sales floor. Near to the size of a baseball field you eyed the various types of scooters stemming to dune buggies and four wheelers. Between the two men you strolled through the small Vespas that you had looked up being unable to take across bridges or highways into the more crotch rocket style scooters. Each one growing more expensive by the aisle and at the approach of a salesman you reached up to tap Glorfindel’s side only for him to pull out his coin purse he set in your palm parting your lips.

Lowly he stated, “You get paid from the hotel next month, I know you’ve budgeted for your hotel check. Use the gold and write me a check on the first. You’re good for it.”

Misspelled, that was all you could think of the man with a Troll saying on his arm. No doubt meant to be something far more formidable than ‘cabbage behind dawn’ all the same you looked at the man who was pulling his longer sleeve out from under his plaid shirt sleeved shirt tucked into his black jeans hanging over an odd pair of bright orange boots matching his tie with lime polka dots on it. His certain salesman grin easing out in his approach.

“Take it you’re prepping for uni for your little miss?”

A twitch of your brow had it clicking in your head that again you were counted to be the child in the mixture by your size. Frerin however grinned parting the lips of the salesman who recognized him instantly. Easing his arm around your shoulders saying, “Helping my big Sis pick out a scooter.”

The man looked you over catching your flinch of a grin, “Yes, well we certainly have a fair selection for Hobbit sized lasses to choose from. Any specifics you require?”

“Well it has to be legal to take on the highway and bridges, I have to cross a bridge to get to work. I don’t live far from my other job so it won’t be needed for long commutes, just the back and forth I suppose.”

He nodded and started to guide you through the difference in motor classifications you really didn’t need as well as how fast each could get to leaving a smaller group of two brand models to choose from. “Have you driven one before?”

You nodded, “Ya, not since I was in the service, but I remember the gist of it.”

Lowly he muttered, “Service,” then wet his lips wondering at your age noticing you had Elf not Hobbit ears. “We do have a special edition mint striped one in the back if you wanted to take this white one to our demo track in the back room?”

You nodded and he waved over another man telling to go fetch the mint one and ready it for purchase, sprucing it up and filling the tank with minor checks to fluids and battery and such. Hunched over he guided the scooter through the sales floor and through a barn door that another worker at the counter near there opened for you all flashing you all a grin as you passed.

Inside the miniature mock obstacle road course set up half the size of the sales floor complete with street signs to practice stopping and starting at he set you up on the starting corner. Inching back you pocketed the coin purse and held the weight of the scooter while he went over the tiny features like blinkers, headlights and of course the tiny tweaks to the clutch, shifter and accelerator from the much older model you had driven on your training base. The salesman stepped away leaving you under the watch of another man to go check the paperwork for the scooter was being gathered by his assistant.

Ignition switched on and around the course you went leaving Glori to look at chuckling Frerin who muttered, “Just trying to picture my brother trying to fit in the back of that. Mahal knows he’s going to want to keep it equal and if she wants to drive I certainly want to be there when he’s squished on the backseat.”

Glori chuckled saying, “I highly doubt if he is as protective as you all say that he wouldn’t simply buy her something bigger.”

Frerin chuckled saying, “He’s already been trying to think of ways to lend her his car. I think this might be the nail in the coffin for him.”

Glori looked at Frerin and asked, “I don’t mean to offend, however, as nearly kin, Thorin is not the sort to bounce from one relationship to the next, is he? Because there are certain courtship markers that once cast off many Elves will not take another partner.”

Seriously Frerin answered, “I understand fully, and no, he isn’t. He was tightly bound to a woman years back, though she cheated and he nearly decided not to court again until he met Jaqi. I give you my word it is nothing frivolous.”

Glori flashed him a calming grin and turned his head to look at you again, “Her Naneth had such a time courting Cirdan, were it not for his patience and compassion along with Jaqi’s hard earned blessing they would not be bound. It took quite some time for trust to be rebuilt. We wore her down though, and she is the stronger for it. Completely treasured. I am certain she would agree to the union, once her trust is sated. Though that entirely depends on the pace Jaqi chooses.”

Frerin, “Well at this rate either they’ll back into a courtship by accident or Thorin might just explode with all he’s been holding in.”

“Is that normal for Dwarves, repression of emotions until explosions?”

Frerin chuckled, “Depends on the Dwarf. And how badly they’ve been burned before.”

Five laps and three paths through the obstacles on the inner ring the man guided you to try you came to a stop in front of the pair who grinned at you making you say, “You’re plotting something.”

Frerin chuckled saying, “Just saying they had some interesting designs for helmets you could choose from. I doubt you would need a full face one, but you will be getting a helmet. Even with the bike lanes you could still fall down.”

Smirking at him you got off and handed the weight to the man who came to take it back again. “I know. Even without telling Thranduil I could hear him shouting the same.”

Glorfindel settled his hand on your shoulder and in your shared smile Frerin caught a matching set of glowing silver rings in your eyes lighting up and white swirls spreading from his fingertips up his hand in the contact. Part of the reason why Elves outside of clans or couples rarely showed physical affection in public as like when Dwarves embraced their kin their invisible clan markers would glow. A brief moment of visible joy and peace between the pair of you. “It suits you, you want it?”

You nodded and said, “I think it would be a good purchase.”

He nodded and lowered his hand when the first salesman came back, “Alright, minor hitch, the mint striped one is a bit more powerful than the white one, would that be alright still?”

You nodded, “Should be fine for me.”

He nodded and said, “Well I have the paperwork ready and if you have the details we could work out the payment plan for you.”

“Ah, I have payment in full.”

Making his grin inch wider, “Even better. Saves plenty of time. My office is on the way past the helmets.”

To go with the green to silver color changing stripe on your black scooter you picked a shimmering pale green and silver open faced helmet that bumped the price up to an even three gold coins post tax. Part of the process was their helping to confirm the purchase by giving you the info setting up your insurance for it and printing out your temporary insurance papers. Curiously though the salesman eyed you after having read your birth date back in the Second Age only adding to your mystery and the question of you were younger or older then your golden haired clearly fully Elven friend.

Thankfully the winds weren’t as strong here and had died down quite a bit since your arrival. Next to the curb around the building you eyed the pair after passing Glorfindel back his coin purse, “Do you guys have to go now?”

Glori said, “I should perhaps check on the station, ensure the show hasn’t received another duffel of letters or random items to help Bunny escape.” Leaning in to hug you again, “Love you, see you tomorrow Jackrabbit.”

Flashing him a wave in his turn, “Love you too Glori. Drive safe.”

“You as well, if it is windy tomorrow please do not risk it.”

“I know,”

Frerin said, “I’ll be picking her up again,”

Glori grinned saying, “Good, have fun Frerin.”

Frerin chuckled and looked you over asking, “Hungry?”

“Kind of.”

He nodded and after checking his watch he said, “Why don’t you come over to ours. We’ve invaded your home nearly daily, come scavenge in ours.” With a giggle you watched him turn saying, “Just follow me, won’t take no for an answer.”

Trotting to his car again he hastily messaged Thorin, who had been lingering around and after an hour decided you weren’t coming and headed home with a huff curious where his brother had taken you. A bark from his pocket had him pulling out his phone at Frerin’s alert to read, “Hey Rin. On our way to our place. If you’d like come down and check out Mafioso’s new wheels.”

Pt 23

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Dis x Vili #Frerin #Glorfindel #Hobbit #lotr

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