#figured it was about time i made a moodboard for this fic since apparently this is what my brain wants to work on for spooky season | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unbelievableholland · 5 years

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Season of Reunions Part 1: Happy New Year

<<Previously Next>>

Pairings: Mob!Hollands x sister!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and murder. Use of guns. Lil' bit of angst. A few swear words. Let me know if I missed anything😊

Words: 2,935

A/N: Wohoo! I completed part 1! If there's anything wrong with the story or there's some errors, please let me know. It's like, 4 am where I live and I JUST finished this fic. I read it about 5 times but I'm still unsure whether I missed anything or not 😅😂

Song recs/songs involved in this fic:

Grow As We Go - by: Ben Platt

Summary: You, Y/N L/N, were adopted by 2 mysterious agents. You knew you were adopted and you never thought about your original family. Being content with the life your parents gave you, why would you? That was, until your parents are killed and you're left to fend for yourself and with a lot of questions unanswered.

(Moodboard and digitally written quote made by me. Pictures found on Pinterest. Credits to the original owners ❤️)

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This was NOT how you expected your day to go. One moment you were eating a burger relaxing on a park bench and then the next, you’re running through the forest getting shot at, food forgotten. To hell with that burger. You swear to God if you trip right now, you’re dead.

Through the trees and the shrubs, you saw a clearing where you can maybe lose whoever is fucking shooting at you. Even though you’re not sure whether they’ll catch you or not, you are sure of one thing. You sure as hell won’t die tonight.

You keep running until you made it to the small clearing and turn a hard left. Left, right, left, right. You don’t really know what you are doing or where you are headed, but as long as they lose your trail, you can figure everything out afterwards. You saw a group of thick trees where you are headed and decided to go run towards the shade provided by the trees. You are lucky it was even dark enough so that they couldn’t see you.

Hiding behind one of the thick trees, you look slightly behind you and the tree, eyes straining to adjust to the darkness. You are careful though so that they wouldn’t see you.

As you predicted, they don’t know where you are. You heard talking but not enough to hear full sentences. You tried your best to listen anyway. Maybe you could even get some info about…anything at this point.

You are sure you heard the word “mob” and your name. Now, you are more scared and probably even more screwed. A fucking mob is after you?!

Yes, you knew people were trying to catch you, heck, maybe even kill you! You think, maybe a few rivals of your parents? Maybe even a hitman? but not a freaking mob!

If a mob really is after you, you’re really going to have to up your game. They’re clever, and they work mercilessly. They don’t just blindly attack. If you want to fight off a mob, you’re going to have to outsmart them. Hopefully, they are only after you to catch you or rob you. Not kill you.

What they want from you though, that’s a different question. You don’t even know why they’re after you. It’s not like you have any relation to any mobs or an asset to them, right? I mean, yeah, you’ve heard your parents talk about them before, but never because they were after you or because they were after them. Maybe that’s one of the things they kept secret? Whatever it is, you have a feeling that you’re going to find out soon.

For now, you just shake the thought out of your head. You can worry about that later, but now, you have to find your way out of the forest. Yes, you’ve gone through this forest before but not this particular part of the woods. You’ve never gone this far.

Would it be a good idea to just camp out here until it’s morning? No. Definitely not. What if the people who were just trying to shoot you came back?

With that, you start trying to retrace your steps. Turning around to check the dirt for any shoe prints.

Fortunately, the boots you are wearing had a unique print at the bottom of it. Looking at the ground, you see the trail your boots left while you were trying to run for your life. You follow it to; hopefully; get out of these woods. Wimbledon forests aren’t that vast anyway. You just haven’t explored all of it often enough to remember.

Walking back was a nightmare. It took about half an hour due to your shoe prints getting covered by twigs and leaves. You got back safely though. Now, you just have to figure out how to get back to your place without getting noticed by anyone who looks like one of the guys who were chasing after you. The streets are more crowded now after all. Mostly because of the fireworks. So, they may not attack, but they might follow you.

There are now two options. Either, you go back to the house your parents left for you, or you go somewhere else before going back to the house so anyone who might be following you, could lose your track.

You scan the area. At the moment, you are in a pretty secluded part of Wimbledon. You try to remember the way to your house as best as you can since you’ve never really been to this part of town often before. Wanting to get home as soon as you can, you start walking to wherever seems familiar. At the same time, thinking about moving somewhere else instead of staying in London.

Living where you are now, is difficult. Especially with the people surrounding you. You think that you would have gotten used to the lonely life you have. Living alone in a huge ass mansion certainly gets boring after a while.

You see, you know that your parents left you with a lot of material things, but that notebook is the only thing you have from them that you remember being given to you personally by your parents. Basically, the only sentimental thing you have from them.

Judging by how they lived before, you can assume that they prepared some things for you to continue living as normally as you can if something ever happens to them.

They knew a lot of people and they had a lot of friends. For example, your auntie Jo. She isn’t really your aunt, but you called her that because she was the person who you cared about the most and who cared for you just as much in return. She is also the person who gives you the things your parents told her to give and provide for you. You are pretty sure that if your parents trusted her enough for that, you definitely could too.

That’s how you got your house and practically everything you owned. Your parents apparently bought it for you in case things got dangerous and they were forced to send you somewhere else for your own well-being. This is usually the part when you think, were they expecting something to happen to them? So much so that they practically have everything prepared for you in case they died or in case you got left alone?

You originally lived in New York, but you got sent here by Jo when they heard about your parents getting murdered. They found you crying on the park bench near your house. They introduced themselves to you as quickly as they could and took you immediately to the airport while they collected your things from your former house. Once you got to your current house, they explained to you what happened and what will happen. How your life was going to be from then on.

But as to who “they” are, you’re still not sure.

Jo is the only person you know here. She is the one who teaches you since you’re homeschooled, and the one who checks on you on a regular basis. She’s like a second mom to you.

That’s basically how it started, and now you’re here. Walking back with your clothes dirty to a place where you know no one will be waiting for you.

Yes, you have Jo, but she’s only there in the morning to teach you and to leave you with some extra money. Sometimes she visits so you can have some bonding time. That rarely happens though. You can tell that she’s a busy person.

When she leaves at night, you never know when or if she’ll come back because of how dangerous you know just being around you is. You trust her enough to protect herself though.

Stepping into your house, you look around and turn the lights on. This place is huge. One big bedroom for you with a king-sized bed, a big ass guest room with four twin beds (not like you’ll ever need it), a training room/gym, a home theatre, and a lot more. Even though you’ve been here for five years, you’re still not used to it.

You live in the luxurious part of Wimbledon. It’s pretty quiet here. There’s a lot of guards outside though. They guard the house, but they don’t really care about you. They’re just doing it for the salary. I mean, at least you don’t have personal bodyguards. That would be annoying. It’s mostly because you convinced Jo that you don’t need them. Well, more like showed.

You showed her your skills by letting her watch you train in your personal training room inside the house. She was surprised because, even though she knew you have been training all your life, she didn’t expect you to be this good.

After turning on the lights in your living room, you went straight to the kitchen to grab some sandwiches to take to your bed room. Climbing up the stairs, very tiredly since, you literally just walked an hour and a half through a forest and probably another hour trying to find your way back home. You could’ve just called Jo to send someone to pick you up, but you didn’t want to bother her.

The moment you stepped in your room, you collapsed onto your bed. The sandwiches landing softly beside you. Yes, you are dirty but you couldn’t bring yourself to care since you are exhausted. You can just change the sheets later anyway.

You are just about to fall asleep when you remembered that you should probably text Jo to tell her you got home safe from the park. Of course, leaving out the “dudes trying to shoot you” part. You wouldn’t want her to worry.

You grabbed your phone and texted her a quick:

“I’m home, and I’m fine. Love u”

You set your phone down, but before you take your eyes off the screen you see that Jo replied.

“That’s good. Stay safe and remember to take care of yourself. Love you too”

Every time you see a message like that, your heart swells. It’s a nice reminder that a person actually loves you and is there for you whether you need them or not.

You lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling and wonder. Why? Why are the people surrounding you act like you’re some princess they need to take extra care of? Even the guards outside are very strict with you sometimes. Even if they don’t personally care, it’s like, it’s their job to keep you as overly protected as possible. You get to go out, but you have to tell Jo to tell the guards that you can. You don’t know why your parents had so many people to watch over you, but it’s something that you just learned to accept. Your life is already complicated enough. Didn’t stop your brain from thinking of possible explanations though.

You might think having almost everything would make you happy, but you would trade the entire house just to have someone to always be with you. Just to have one best friend. Except for Jo of course. Well technically, you do have many people around you.

The only one of them you know though, is Jo, but sometimes, when Jo’s busy, she sends some random adult to watch over you. It’s even more suspicious because those people usually wear suits. Like it’s their uniform or something.

You’re not even sure if your parents were actually government agents. Probably more like, agents from a different or even a secret organization. They did pretty shady stuff. Something that you don’t think the government would even do.

They didn’t tell you that though. You just saw some files about people they were “tracking”. You saw those cork boards with yarns and pictures of different people and different places. It was when you were about seven years old when you went inside their room to take a look inside. Your parents didn’t know of course.

You were always a curious kid. A smart curious kid. Some people would even go as far as to say that you are a genius. A prodigy. You choose not to dwell on that topic though. Wouldn’t want to turn into a big-headed prick.

However, no matter what you do, no matter how many times you try to distract yourself, you just can’t forget about that stupid notebook. The one that was hidden in your drawer. The one your mother gave to you. The notebook that you don’t even think Jo knows about, and that’s saying a lot since she knows everything. Well, almost everything.

If it’s just a regular notebook, you probably wouldn’t think much of it, but mostly, it’s the letters engraved on the leather cover of the notebook.

For Y/N

You know that it isn’t just a regular notebook your parents would probably buy as a gift for their child.

It was and is for you.

And the fact that it appears to be a few years old and used, makes it seem more like something was written in there specifically for you to read. Like it’s very important.

You sit up on the bed. Thinking carefully about your next move.

You decide to stand up and walk towards the drawer. Getting the key from the jewelry box you have on the table next to it, so you can open the small locked dresser attached to your door desk.

When you finally open it, you immediately see the notebook.

Your heart beats faster. Your breathing quickens. The palm of your hands starts to get sweaty.

This is really not the time to have a fucking panic attack.

Closing your eyes, you try to calm yourself down so you can prevent past traumas from resurfacing.

Fuck.

Still, you don’t calm down. You decide that it’s probably not the time to read the notebook. You quickly walk to your bed, not before grabbing your guitar on the side of your bedroom door though. Maybe singing or even just strumming a tune on your guitar might help you calm down.

Breath in, breath out.

Placing your fingers gently on the strings, you strum one of the songs you remember Jo singing so you can calm down during these impending anxiety attacks.

You take a deep breath, as you strum one of the songs Jo introduced you to. Closing your eyes to imagine that, instead of yourself, it was your mom singing the famous Ben Platt song.

You say there’s so much you don’t know

You need to go and find yourself

Memories of the time spent with your mom and dad are played like an old movie inside your head.

You say you’d rather be alone

‘Cause you think you won’t find it tied to someone else.

Smiling to yourself. You thought this song is perfect because your parents never wanted you to be alone. They would want you to grow up with someone. To grow up like a normal kid.

Ooh, who said it’s true?

That the growing only happens on your own?

They don’t know me and you.

I don’t think you have to leave

If to change is what you need

You can change right next to me

It’s funny how things can turn out. Your parents didn’t want you to be alone, didn’t want you to grow up as a person who didn’t trust anyone.

Couldn’t trust anyone.

When you’re high I’ll take the lows

You can ebb and I can flow

And we’ll take it slow

And grow as we go, grow as we go.

You slowly stop singing and gently fade out the chords to the song. As you open your eyes, you realize that your breathing has gone back to normal, and your heart rate slowed down.

You know, deep down, that your mother was telling you something when she gave you that notebook. That she wanted you to know something. Something you just had…have to know.

It’s been 5 years; almost six; and you still haven’t opened it.

Would it really be that bad?

You have to open it. You have to know what it was your parents were trying to tell you.

But do you really?

No, no you do not. Would it really hurt to just, live without knowing? To forget about what could possibly hold the answers to your bazaar life? You know the answer though.

So, without thinking, you stood up and ran to your dresser. Fumbling with the notebook with how fast you got it since you didn’t close the dresser. You open it, and you see, taped at the back of the cover, is a black ring, with a chain looped through it, making it a necklace.

You are about to detach it but your phone rings. Startling you and almost dropping the notebook. You figure it’s Jo calling, so you set the notebook down. Momentarily forgetting about the matte black ring to go and answer the phone call.

Hearing a very cheery Jo speak through the phone,

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Oh right.

You almost forgot that Jo wasn’t here all day because she went to spend time with some people. You didn’t know them. Maybe her family? At least it sounds like she is having fun.

How could you even forget that it was New Year’s Eve? Especially when you went to the park specifically to watch the fireworks show the town had set up.

You sigh.

“Happy New Year Jo”.

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Tag List:

@spideylovin

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moonstruckholland · 5 years

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Happy Birthday? (p.p)

(the gif has nothing to do with the fic, I was just too lazy to make a moodboard 😂)

Word count: 2,284

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, hella fluff

A/N: This is my submission for @farfromhaz and @angelhaz11's writing challenge! Go send them some love! Anyways, here's writing number two of the night! I really hope you guys like it! Definitely feel free to send any and all feedback, it would make my spooky day even happier 🧡 (I'm technically late but it's still Halloween somewhere so shhhh it's okay)

Sharing your birthday with your favorite holiday, even if it was Halloween, wasn't always as fun as everyone would assume.

Believe it or not, people actually forgot your birthday. You couldn't fully blamed them, Halloween was amazing. What could compare to the candies, scary movies, and fun costumes? Definitely not your measly little birthday parties, especially as you grew older and everyone was trading in trick or treating for Halloween parties that went on for hours into the night.

But you couldn't lie and say it didn't hurt your feelings growing up when you walked into your classroom expecting just one "Happy birthday" and instead getting, "Happy Halloween!" followed by a "Oh, it's your birthday isn't it?"

It hurt your little child heart so much, you decided at the age of 9 to stop telling people your birthday and pretended it already passed whenever someone asked. It was dumb looking back on it now that you were an adult, but back then it seemed like the only reasonable solution.

The only person at school who knew your birthday was your best friend and crush of many years, Peter Parker. You didn't tell him purposely, he stumbled into your apartment window one night in high school, bleeding and in a daze, and you were getting ready for a birthday dinner.

"You look really nice, can I ask where you're going?" He voice was raspy as you cleaned the cuts on his face.

"You don't get to ask questions when you've been hiding the fact that you're freaking Spider-Man."

He decided to keep quiet for a while, not wanting to push you. You waited until he looked less like death to say something.

"It's my birthday," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"It's your birthday? And you didn't tell me? I'm your best friend!"

"Don't start with me Spider-Boy," you glared at him for moment before softly adding, "I haven't told anyone in years."

"Why?"

"Everyone would forget, so I figured no one can forget if they don't know, saves me from being stressed."

"Well, now that I know, I'm never going to forget."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Parker."

He kept his promise, making a big deal of your birthday every year. One year he snuck you out of your apartment at night and swung you around the city, showing you places you hadn't known existed.

Another year, he brought you to a halloween party at the Stark tower. You never thought you'd see Captain America wish you a happy birthday personally, but it was one of the greatest experiences of your life.

It honestly didn't matter what he did, the fact that he cared and bothered to remember is what made it truly special. You were sure as long as Peter was in your life, you'd always have a special birthday.

Well, maybe not this year. So far today was the worst birthday of your life.

You woke up very late, apparently forgetting to set your alarm the night before. You rushed to throw on clothes and get as decently presentable as you could rushing to make it to your midterm.

“If you’re late, don’t bother showing up,” you could hear your professor’s shrill voice as you practically sprinted to your car.

You drove to class like you were in one of the fast and the furious movies, definitely breaking at least one law in the process. Luckily for you, the roads seemed to be empty, one gift from the universe. You knew if Peter weren’t already in class, he’d probably be with you right now, chastising you for your horrible driving,

‘I could really use Peter right now, swinging to school would be much faster.’

It was then that you realized Peter hadn't sent you his usual good morning happy birthday text he always sent, in fact you hadn't heard from him at all since you threw your into studying yesterday. You stomach clenched with worry for a second before you quickly pushed it aside, remembering you had to run to class.

You made it to your statistics class with minutes to spare, barely. You would’ve felt relieved, except the second you sat down to pull out your materials, you came to the realization you left the cheat sheet your professor allowed you to bring in your folder, laying on the exact spot you put it before passing out last night.

‘Fuck,’ you wanted cry. That dumb piece of paper was your key to passing this test and it was at home. You obviously had no choice but to take the test, so you told convinced yourself the studying you did last night would be enough, trying your best to think positively.

You didn't fail, but you definitely didn't get the grade you wanted. After more than an hour of answering questions, working them out on your scrap paper, you ended it with a 72. You beat yourself up about it the whole way home. The only thing you were looking forward to was seeing Peter and your lovely roommate Casey, and the delicious chocolate chip cookies she made just for you.

You couldn't help smiling as you heard Peter laughing from down the hall. You often came home to Peter already there, a perk that came with giving him a key, making food or literally hanging from the ceiling while studying.

"At least he always keeps me on my toes," you mumbled under your breath, wondering how you'd find him this time as you unlocked your door.

Much to your surprise, he was just sitting on the couch, Mean Girls playing in the background as he played what looked like some sort of star wars game on his phone.

“Hey, Pete!” you called out, closing the door behind you.

“Hey,” he barely looked at you, too into his game.

Taking a seat beside him, you sighed dramatically, laying your head on his shoulder while you waited for him to pay attention to you. That didn't happen for another 15 minutes and you wondered how he could be so into a game that he couldn't even play on one of the many game consoles Mr. Stark has bought him over the years.

"So," he said after finally putting his phone down, "What's the plan for today?"

"Oh, um, I thought maybe we'd swing through the city and go to our little spot?"

"I was thinking we'd do something different?"

"Like what?" You were suddenly filled with excitement, knowing Peter always came up with the best plans.

"You know that cute girl from down the hall? She invited me to one of the sorority parties and I thought we'd go together."

"You and the girl from down the hall?"

"No, silly," he nudged you gently, "You and me."

The excitement started to slowly fade away as you realized he was being serious, he wanted to go to a Halloween party, he probably wanted to meet up with the cute girl, he forgot your birthday.

"Um, sure! Sounds good." You gave him your best fake smile, trying not to cry on the spot.

He didn't seem to notice, going on about the exam he took a couple of hours ago. You nodded at the appropriate timing, making it seem like you were fully invested, and you wanted to me, but you were so hurt you could barely focus.

Eventually, Peter got up to leave and you hated to even think it, but you were relieved. Until you heard his goodbyes.

"I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, practically pushing him out the door.

"Oh, and tell Casey her cookies were delicious."

"What cookies?"

"Her famous chocolate chip ones."

You sighed, "Did you at least save me one?"

You knew his answer from the look on his face, the immediately blush coloring his cheeks and the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours.

"I'm sorry! I forgot! She can make more, right?"

'That isn't the only thing you forgot, Peter.'

Now you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or lunge at him, but Peter was out the door and down the hall before you could do either.

Closing the door behind you, you decided to settle for the former, tears spilling down your cheeks instantly. A part of you hoped Peter was just messing around and would knock on your door any second now, telling you it was all a joke and he would never forget your birthday.

But as more and more time passed, you knew he genuinely forgot.

You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt, tried giving him a chance to realize his mistake. Hours later, when he came to pick you up, it didn't seem like that was going to happen either.

He greeted you at the door like nothing, "Do you like my costume?"

Even upset with him, you couldn't help laughing as he twirled in his Spider-Man suit. "Again, Peter?"

"What? You can't go wrong dressing up like Spider-Man!"

You agreed with him, though you still hoped he was only joking about the party.

He wasn't, he swung the two of you a block away from the sorority house. You could practically smell the booze from there.

'He really brought me to a party.'

You tried making the best out of it, flirting with cute guys and girls, but it wasn't much fun considering most of them were so drunk, they could barely speak properly. And you knew regardless of how much you flirted, there was only one guy you were actually interested in.

So, after an hour and half of torture, you found yourself outside, playing games on your phone while you waited for Peter on the steps.

He came out not long after, sitting beside you, "Are you having fun?"

You barely looked at him, "No, not really."

"Y/n?" He put his arm around your shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Everything? From the second I woke up this day has been so shitty, I left my notes and tanked my test, you ate the last cookie, which was mine, by the way," you took a moment to pull away and glare at him.

"Then you brought me here, and what hurts the most is my best friend forgot my birthday," you voiced cracked as you finished your sentence, betraying the cool composure you were trying to keep.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you honestly didn't want to hear an explaination, you just wanted to go home and leave this day behind you, "It's okay, just take me back to my place?"

He didn't object, looking around for any witnesses before throwing on his mask, picking you up and swinging away.

You didn't open your eyes on the way home, you instead pretended it was a normal night filled with fun and dumb you and Peter things.

'Like it should've been.'

When Peter finally set you down, you were not on the fire escape by your bedroom window. You were on the roof of your building, twinkle lights and candles everywhere. There were tables full of your favorite food, and one had the most beautiful birthday cake you had ever seen.

Peter pulled off his mask, "Did you really think I would forget?"

"I-" you were speechless, he was messing with you.

"It's not over yet," he smiled, "You can come out now."

Instantly, all of your friends and family popped out from underneath the tables, yelling out "Surprise!"

You were immediately flooded by your loved ones, everyone wishing you happy birthday and showering you with love. You were overwhelmed with happiness, tears of joy falling down your cheeks for the first time that night. You couldn't believe Peter did all of this for you, and managed to trick you.

You let yourself have actual fun. It was much easier considering everyone was coherent, plus you were once again blessed by the presence of the avengers. It was hard not to have fun when Thor and Tony were around.

Later on, you snuck away, finding Peter and pulling him to the side. You smacked his arm the second you were alone.

"You ass! I can't believe you did this!"

"I couldn't let this be a boring birthday!"

You rolled your eyes, "You couldn't at least tell me happy birthday?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted to pull a sixteen candles moment."

"And what was that with the party?"

"You had to be distracted while Casey baked your cake."

You shook your head, "You really thought of everything, huh? It's perfect, Peter. Thank you."

"I, um, actually have one more thing for you."

"No gifts! This was already amazing."

"Well," he blushed, looking down at his feet, "It's more of a question."

"Okay..."

"Would you maybe want to go out on a date?" He asked so quickly, you almost didn't catch the question.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,' was all that ran through your head.

"Or not! That's okay too, it's just Mr. Stark told me you liked me and I should make a move because I've liked you for years," Peter rambled.

Your heart literally melted at his words. He's liked you for years? And you didn't know? How stupid could the two of you be?

"Peter," you took his hand in yours, "I would love to go on a date with you."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," this time you looked away shyly, "I've liked you for a while too."

He smiled brightly, letting out a little sigh of relief.

It was right then you knew nothing would be able to top this, it was truly the best birthday ever.

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @ravenclawmarvel @rachramblesstuff @angelhaz11 @fairytaleparker @parkerpuff @arielweasley @devildisguiseasangel @nedthegay @parkeroffline @petersmparker @lovinnholland @tomhollandsumbrella @awkwardfangirl2014 @officiallyunofficialperson @babebenhardy @sleepybesson @its-the-unknownspidey @antoouu @petersstarcadet @thollandx @xxxxdelenaxxxx @smexylemony @kxrtwxgner @styles-balor4eva @80sthottie @meghan-8520xx @marshyrebelcloud

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ethertae · 5 years

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When it rains, it pours | 01 (myg)

When it rains, it pours | 01 - Min Yoongi

beautiful moodboard by @cafelunes (thanks so much, Lina)

⇢ pairing: reader x yoongi (ft. Hoseok)

⇢ word count: 5.2 k

⇢ summary: “Hoseok is iridescent, and Yoongi is shimmering – two stars, with you at their orbit”. or you are miserably in love with your brother’s best friend.

⇢ genre: angst (lots and lots of it), series of five or six parts (was supposed to be a oneshot but eh). Even though the premise of this fic revolves around the reader being in love with Yoongi, it is not the main focus of the story. Hoseok is just as important to the plot than the other characters.

⇢ warnings: Y/N is depressed, and a lot of the themes in this are heavy, this fic might weigh you down a lot after a while.

Realization had fallen while you sat on a hospital bench, sleep-deprived and irritated to the brim. With worried parents at your side, and Hoseok in a hospital bed, the only thing you could think of was ways to further break your brother’s leg.

It hadn’t been the first time, that in a silly brawl, Hoseok had managed an injury. You rushed to the hospital, all scared out of your minds, till the reason for his admission was revealed. If they had just arrested his ass, maybe he would have finally learned his lesson, but in a small town like yours, understandings were quickly met.

Reverie now broken, a voice, like an angel, reverent and jovial spoke amidst the deafening silence, “Hey!”

No sooner was the word out, that you waved to greet Yoongi with a cheesy smile. It had been raining, and as he shook the wetness from his grey hair, he shot your parents an apologetic grin.

“Sorry for all the trouble, Hoseok didn’t mean to start any of it.”

At that, you snorted, rubbing your hands down your thighs out of boredom. Yoongi settled next to you and took something out from his jacket pocket, “here, I got your text, I think it’s a little soggy now, but –“

Enveloped in a small plastic bag was the hot dog you had asked for, “thank you!”

“So, how does being 16 feel? Sorry, I didn’t get to come to your birthday party - Hoseok told me you were flirting with boys.”

Yoongi’s teasing tone made you slow your chewing, “I was not!”

Humming absentmindedly, he leaned against the tiled wall and sighed, “your brother is really dumb.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure, you were there right along side of him, whispering encouragements in his ear.”

“Where did you get that mouth from?”

“From you.”

“Ah, learned from the best, I see.”

“Definitely.”

Your parents spoke in hushed whispers, and while you tried to hone in on their conversation, Yoongi patted your leg.

“Hm?”

“When did you grow so much?” The words were void of emotion, a mirror to his expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Just yesterday, you were four, and Hoseok and I were nine,” he paused, “we teased you till you cried and you ended up throwing a sand bucket in his face.”

“Yeah?”

“My point is, where did time go? Twelve years have flown by, and well, I don’t know – I’m just speaking, nonsense.”

“You sound like a grandpa.”

“I’m older than I look.”

Yoongi was a strange individual, and while you pondered if he had changed in the years you knew him, interestingly enough, he hadn’t at all. He was always found with a sense of longing in his eye, a sentiment of loss even he couldn’t explain.

But, as you stared at him that day, in the buzzing hospital, a feeling warmed your chest. To you, Yoongi was beautiful, and at the time, you tried convincing yourself it was a result of the hormonal splurge you were experiencing. No, it hadn’t been that. It started from there, the simple stutter of a heart, which grew to your misery.

Four years later and not much has changed, other than the fact that you are spending your twentieth birthday alone. While your friends tried to push you into going out with them, you were adamant on staying home for the occasion. It would be to self reflect you convinced yourself, however you have come to regret your decision. Sitting down in front of a stupid reality show, whilst eating cake, is a lot sadder than you thought it would be.

Lately, things haven’t been going well. Life has become a cycle that, somedays, you wish to get out of. The burden that is to breathe has finally weighed you down, and perhaps, you haven’t been the only one to notice. Your appearance at social events become a rare sight, and the excuses that you tell are all but the same.

You sigh and take a fork full of cake, “happy birthday to me.”

The time when birthdays were something you looked forward to, is long passed. Now, you consider them to be yet another year of suffering, or to stay positive, a year closer to fulfillment.

At least the cake is good.

You lick the frosting from the corner of your lips, before turning off the TV. The bird clock Hoseok got for your 18th birthday can be heard again, and you stare as it slowly ticks passed 8. Speaking of your brother, he usually sent a text by now. You guess he simply forgot – he’s been so busy.

Half way through the patisserie, you put down your fork and close the box. Fulness is a feeling you don’t appreciate at night, and since you’re tired, sleeping seems like the right thing to do. You drag your feet to the cold kitchen tiles and place the patisserie in the fridge. As you retire to your bedroom, the doorbell rings.

You stand still, hoping for the person to go away, and it’s quiet, until – “shit face, open up! I know you’re there!”

Upon hearing your brother’s voice, you sigh and walk towards the door.

“What do you want, Hoseok?”

The smile on his face is almost alarming, and you huff when he tackles you with a hug. Indeed, he is a very affectionate person, and normally, you would be the first to receive his excessive need for skinship, however tonight –

“What do you mean ‘what do I want’? It’s my baby sister’s birthday, and she’s here spending it alone like a sad little old lady.” He pats your cheek, and you smack his hand away with a groan.

It takes you several seconds to notice the shadowed figure behind your brother, and you stand on your toes to get a better look.

“Yoongi?”

The man in question steps closer and places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. His lips hold a lilt, and your heart stutters just like it has for the last 5 years. “Your brother said he was going to visit, then I remembered it was your birthday, so I tagged along.”

You smile and look at your brother again, “why are you guys still standing in the doorway, come in.”

Hoseok shrugs off his coat and throws it over a chair, “geez, you have to clean this place.”

He picks a pizza box off of the floor and winces, closing it quickly. “You really have to…”

The last time you saw them was a little over a month ago, when you weren’t so overwhelmed with exams. Hoseok and your parents had wanted to get dinner, a kind of family reunion. Youremember it being a nice evening, well until Hoseok insisted on hitting the bars. He called up Yoongi, the tweedle dee to his tweedle dum – of course, you all got kicked out. While you didn’t find it funny at all, both of them spent the rest of the night in hysterics.

It has always amazed you, how a reserved person like Yoongi, becomes a crazed baboon whenever in the presence of Hoseok. Funny thing, you think, that Yoongi needs Hoseok to come out of his shell, and still, has tranquilizing abilities on your hyperactive brother. Complementary, yet different.

“How did you end up like this? You know how I spent my twentieth birthday?”

You scoff, “in jail.”

“Hey, it wasn’t a real jail, and that’s beside the point! At least, I was having fun. Why are you here, moping around? Do you have no friends? What about that girl Lisa, I thought you guys hung out.”

He regards you seriously, awaiting whatever type of excuse you can pull out of your ass. “I am the one who decided to spend my birthday alone,” your eyes wander to where Yoongi takes a seat beside Hoseok. His thin lips are pursed, and he remains still, albeit fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Hoseok stays quiet for a few seconds, before smiling. Your brother is many things, including his perception, and you know that in that small moment, he had figured you out. The smile, it seems, is mostly reserved for himself, and the next thing he says, does anything but surprise you.

“I see…”

You have always been like this. When have you not been? Your sadness is a crippling rose, and now, it has bloomed. At least, that is how Hoseok sees it, ever the mind reader.

Yoongi is quick to grow bored of his activity and speaks, “should we go out and celebrate?”

The other grins, “Remember Jin?”

He ponders a moment, then nods slowly. Hoseok continues, “well, apparently he’s having the grand opening of his nightclub tonight.”

“Are we talking about Jin from highschool?”

“Yeah.”

“Hoseok – he hated us.”

Your brother suddenly laughs. He had forgotten how much that uptight kid wished their death. “Well, we’re adults now. I think we’ve all moved past highschool.”

“I think you’re forgetting what assholes we were.”

A smile breaks you from your thoughts, “you really were dickheads.”

“You would follow us everywhere though,” Yoongi comments with a grin.

“Right, she was always lurking in the shadows.”

Hoseok mimics a younger you, Yoongi laughs, and you love. Then, it’s a blur of passing cars and fading lights. Youth cheers and brings forth life, and your brother is just another part of it.

“Cheer up, Y/N! It’s your birthday!”

The city, at night, is cold and bitter. Nothing about the mass of young bodies disillusions you from the dull streets. To you, the only people to generate light are Hoseok, and Yoongi.

Over the years, hiding your love for him has become easy. As a teenager, you had mistaken it for infatuation or lust – in your mind you had been too young to know what love was. But over time, when your feelings grew, it had been so complicated to conceal them. Everything he did, from his laugh to his strange habits, made you buckle.

Now, you are so used to the kind burn that comes with his presence, that it is of second nature. You glance at the couple ahead. Hoseok is boisterous and Yoongi is attentive, all smiles.

The city, at night, is peaceful. Under artificial lights and youthful gazes, Hoseok feels at ease. A world which he can make his own. He pears at you over his shoulder and slings his arm over Yoongi’s. Distance has painted your canvas black and white.

“Pst, midget! Hurry up.”

Your step quickens, and soon, the three of you walk side by side. It is quiet for a moment, save for the wet music of Hoseok’s shoes against the pavement. You savor it.

“We’re almost there, just a block away.”

The time it takes to get there passes in a blur. Women and men alike, line up in hopes of entering the new upscale club. You close your eyes a moment and sigh. Hoseok’s bad ideas are bound to drag you into the mud one of these days.

Yoongi nudges you, “relax, it can’t be any worse than all the other times.”

“You’ve a got a point there.”

Hoseok taps his foot impatiently, and the repetitive motion interrupts your thoughts. Behind a group of smokers, you all stand at the very back of the line. A few minutes tick by, before he rudely grabs your wrist, “come on, we’re going in front.”

You pull him back, “we can’t just cut in!”

“No, silly, we’re not cutting in. We’re invited.”

Yoongi joins in with an amused smile, “I really don’t think we are, hobi…”

“We’ll tell them we know the owner.”

Not a semblance of shame can be seen on Hoseok’s sharp features, as he tugs you along to the front. Habit has made it that you no longer oppose his strange decisions, nor bother thinking of them. Life, in his eyes, is ephemeral, and time is too scarce: ‘don’t worry, be happy’. The lyric echoes soundly in your mind, a distant memory.

“Hello,” Hoseok starts, “we’re on the list.”

The bouncer sighs, “name?”

“Jung Hoseok.”

Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder.

“Your name isn’t on here.”

He stifles laughter.

Your brother feigns surprise, “that’s strange – maybe it’s under the name Jung Y/N?”

The repetitive instance in which you find yourselves quickly escalates, as the bouncer catches on to Hoseok’s game. His beady eyes narrow, and Hoseok’s smile falters. You are about to intervene, when Yoongi suddenly speaks, “Kim Seokjin!”

Hoseok mutters a quick thanks and loosens the grip he had on Yoongi’s hand. A tall man whips his head, full lips and combed hair. First, he tilts it, and a beat passes, before – epiphany. He heads your way, and Hoseok’s stiff posture visibly relaxes.Highschool is in the past; how petty could Kim Seokjin be?

“Seokjin, how have you –“

The man’s derisive snort interrupts any attempt at making small talk, “Well, well: Jung Hoseok, and Min Yoongi, together as always. Nothing much has changed for you guys, huh?”

You notice the way his lips twitch in a sneer, and it’s unsettling for such gentle traits. At your side, Hoseok shifts. On rare occasions is he ever at a loss for words, and under Kim Seokjin’s scrutiny, he curses himself for it.

“How long has it been, 7 years? Highschool was a while ago,” the man glances at Yoongi, “indeed, haven’t changed one bit.”

As the four of you stand there, facing each other, you wonder what your brother could have done to bring about such hatred. Silence stretches on, then Hoseok sighs.

“Look, Jin. We’re all adults now, as you said Highschool was 7 years ago. It’s way behind us –“

“Yeah, sure. Don’t bullshit me, Hoseok. You just want to get into my nightclub, and there’s no way that’s happening.”

“Oh, come on,” Hoseok laughs, “it’s my baby sister’s birthday!”

Seokjin shakes his head in disbelief, “you really haven’t changed, have you? Shameless as always.”

Your brother has always had thick skin, it is so easy for him to brush things off. So instead of taking Seokjin’s comment at heart, he grins: “Ya bet!”

Highschool was indeed long ago, and as Seokjin stares at your luminescent brother, a feeling uglier than bitterness rises within him. Jealousy and discontent have reached him too, and it’s visible in the curl of distaste he directs at Hoseok. It’s strange, you find, to see someone act so miserably human.

“You really have no boundaries, do you? You both come here like the universe is your oyster, with no sense of past mistakes, and no consideration whatsoever. This is real life, you can’t just pull crap like this. This is not highschool. Grow the fuck up, Jung Hoseok!”

It saddens you that anger isn’t there, as it should be. A younger you would have jumped to defend him, but this stranger is right, and Hoseok, better than anyone, knows it. “Ha, I forgot how easily riled up you get, Seokjin. You haven’t changed all that much either,” he pats the man’s shoulder.

“Just leave.”

Yoongi for a second time, holds your brother’s hand in discreet affection and moral support. From the corner of your eye, you notice and smile; afterall, they have always been the best of friends.

Hoseok is iridescent, and Yoongi is shimmering – two stars, with you at their orbit. Laughter and foolery echo in the dim street, but his smile is treacherous. Thick skin can only be so thick, and at moments, hurtful words only serve to thin it. To the public, however, he is unfading light.

Wind cards itself in your hair, a soothing whisper and gentle caress. Nothing can break him, he is unyielding – it is nice to think it. Hoseok’s strands sway as he walks in time with the simple beat Yoongi produces. When they are here, smiling is so easy. Meaning, when they are here, you feel is attainable.

“Y/N, you’ve met Namjoon, right?”

You nod, “yeah, a few times actually.”

Hoseok ponders your answer, then laughs, “true, I forgot!”

Namjoon’s apartment is where you are headed, you conclude. A bright person with peculiar taste, is what you recall him to be. He never spoke to you much and if he did, it was merely formalities. However, when you did happen to converse, it was genuine and benign.

“Oh, and give Taehyung a break, it’s only friendly flirting, he does it with everyone.”

You make a face to which Hoseok laughs and roughly smacks your shoulder. With a wince, you soothe the spot your brother assaulted. It now occurs to you that Yoongi is the only friend of Hoseok’s that you truly know. At this thought, you lift your eyes to stare at him. He is looking at his friend with the tiniest of a smile and it brings you back to their many years of camaraderie.

“Do you think Jungkook will be there? Haven’t seen him in a while… Apparently he’s still hung up on that girl.”

Yoongi just shakes his head and sighs, “Jin is right, some things never change.”

This has Hoseok barking out a laugh and lunging to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders in a bid to keep himself upright. Moments like these, you grip your sides in an embrace, do they only belong to others?

Your brother snaps his fingers and grins when you startle, “Y/N, look alive!”

You offer him a small smile and avert your interest to the group of girls who laugh on the opposing sidewalk. They are beautiful, you think. Drunk on life and youth – things that escape you. Hoseok notices how you stare at them and stays silent.

His barren smile stands. For you and me, both.

Before long, you all stand in front of Namjoon’s apartment door. Yoongi huffs in annoyance and brings a hand to his chest. “All those fucking stairs, goddamn it!”

Hoseok lifts his hand and raps his knuckles against the chipped door in quick successions. Voices can be heard in the apartment, along side a heavy tread that grows in sound the closer it gets. The first thing you are greeted with as the door swings open, are Namjoon’s surprised eyes.

“Hey, what are guys doing here?”

He leans in to hug both Hoseok and Yoongi, before swaying to the side. Only then does he notice you, “oh, hey! Didn’t see you there.”

He gestures warmly inside his home where your brother and Yoongi have already thrown their coats haphazardly on an armchair. Upon entering the apartment, you note the slight changes made since you were here last. The imposing painting that hung above the couch is no longer there: you remember staring at it when you were bored once.

“Go fucking put some pants on, Taehyung. My sister is here.”

Hoseok nudges his friend, who sits on the beige couch with his legs spread and controller in hand. At your brother’s words, Taehyung lifts his head and smiles at you – “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey.”

You make way into the living-room and sit crosslegged on the carpet. Taehyung presses play on his game, feet now on top of the coffee table where your fingers twiddle mindlessly.

Hoseok smacks the back of his younger friend’s head as a reminder, “I told you to get changed, asshole.”

“Alright, alright!”

As the boy leaves, grumbling under his breath, you give Hoseok a pointed look. “You know this is his home, right?”

“Your point?”

With a sigh, you ignore him and focus your attention instead on the potted plant near the TV – it’s ivy. You have always liked these plants, long and dark in color. As you continue to stare, lithe fingers reach for the leaves and pet them delicately. Your eyes trail up the person’s arm until they land on a face, one with a slender nose and pale, thin lips: Yoongi.

His doe eyes study the plant, mouth pressed in a tight line, and when your brother calls him, he hums. “Namjoon is calling us to the kitchen.”

“Alright,” he drops his hand from the vine and follows Hoseok to the room they are needed in. In passing, he offers you a small smile and ruffles your hair gently. At the contact, you close your eyes, breath releasing in an almost somber shudder when he leaves.

You keep them shut only a little while longer.

The sound of clunky shoes grace your ears, and you peel your lids back out of curiosity. A young man, one can guess around the age of Taehyung, removes Hoseok and Yoongi’s jackets from the armchair and throws them in a corner. Hair tousled and lip pierced with a ring, he slouches back onto the back rest. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall Hoseok having mentioned a friend who dresses as if he were in constant mourning.

“Jungkook, geez, were you taking a shit in there?”

Taehyung sits back on the couch, clad in sweatpants at Hoseok’s request. He awaits Jungkook’s reply, and upon realizing he is not getting one, makes himself comfortable. The glance sent your way is amused, and when he speaks, his voice titters on a laugh.

“Hey, you alright there? You’re zoning into another dimension right now.”

His smile, however, fades once he sees your detached response. So, instead of asking again, he simply hands you another controller to his game of Assassin’s Creed – “Wanna play?”

You politely decline and shift to face the window, much like Jungkook has been doing. The streets are quieter now. Only a car or two pass here and there under the dim lamp posts. It almost feels as if you were far off the city, in a deserted town. If only it could always be like this – indeed is it dreadful living in a street so dull with life.

Hoseok, on the other hand, can’t possibly fathom anything better, and the thought makes you smile just the slightest bit.

“Taehyung, could you direct me to the bathroom, please?”

The boy blinks at you, before slowly rising to his bare feet. “Sure,” he motions for you to follow him. You chance a glance at Jungkook, only to see that he has not moved one bit.

Your brother’s boisterous laughter can be heard, as you pass the kitchen. Huddled near the counter, the three men exchange friendly conversation, and you barely catch a glimpse of it, before Taehyung points you to the toilet.

The walls are white, and the color makes the space seem a little wider than it really is. You pull down the seat and after close inspection, allow yourself to sit on it. It doesn’t take you longer than five minutes to finish and wash your hands.

Gently, you push the door shut and press your shoulders against it with a hushed sigh. Where the wallpaper slightly rots in a corner of the ceiling, you stare. The stain is small, and you can only trace the reason for it back to a leak. Around the peeled edges, the wall takes on a color of faded copper – it is a sight you’ve seen before. Hoseok and Yoongi would remember, they were there too.

Your brother means well, he always does, but you are tired and have been for a while now. Tonight, you only wished to sleep – and Hoseok only wished to spend time with you. It is your birthday afterall.

Once again, you sigh, and in an attempt to lean off the door, lose your balance. It takes a meager second to regain step, and you inhale steadily, in hopes that your vision will clear.

“Wait, don’t go just yet.”

The voice, accompanied by a hand that draws Hoseok back to the kitchen, is just above a whisper. Where you stand pressed to the wall, the entrance to it is visible, and if you were to walk a little further, you would be able to see inside.

You make a tentative step forward, relieved to have recoveredfrom the minor mishap your lack of sleep has caused. As you approach the kitchen, it becomes easy to distinguish their voices. In succinct, hushed tones, they speak with their backs turned to face the counters. At first, you mean to ignore them and continue on to the living-room, until:

“But, when do you mean to tell her?”

You pause, wondering whom Namjoon’s question was directed to. There is a beat of silence, then your brother answers – “Uh. Soon, I think. But, I don’t know. Yoongi and I discussed it, and I’d rather we be alone – you know, just me and her.”

A small frown ebbs your features, and deepens the more you think of what he could possibly mean to tell you. For a moment, you fear it to be something bad, and, at this thought, the thudding in your chest starts.

“Yeah, man. It has been a while now, it’s always better that she knows about it now.”

Along with this revelation, doubt churns unpleasantly in your mind. Hoseok has never been one to keep things from you, at least not for long. You wish to see his face, to reassure yourself that it cannot be as bad as you have made it to be. Instead, you stay where you are.

“Yeah, I know – it’s just…”

He sighs, and the sound jabs at your heart, because it is so uncertain.

“I’m scared.”

If only you could confront him, ask him what it is that he is so afraid of, soothe his concerns – if only, you weren’t so terrified too.

Fingers tap at your shoulder, and you nearly startle into cardiac arrest. First, it’s a warm voice: “it’s not nice to eavesdrop on people”, and second, a teasing smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you,” Taehyung’s grin widens, and all you can do is blink. “I was about to go bother them, but then I saw you lurking here.”

He stares and awaits your answer – strange, you consider, that there is so much depth in his unsuspecting gaze. All you can muster, followed by a pitiful smile, is “yeah, sorry.”

Taehyung’s eyes drift to your trembling hands, and his expression morphs into one of concern. But, before he can get too curious, you head to the living area, legs unsteady under the burden of a restless mind.

Jungkook is on his phone now. His eyes follow whatever it is he reads on the screen, and as you enter the room, he lifts them up. It is quick, however, because no more than a second later, the tired brown of his pupils are back on the device. This small action you think is of no importance, and when you sit down on the rug, your fingers press gently into the covered skin of your calves.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hoseok and Yoongi, along with the two other men, come in.

Hoseok takes a seat on the couch, and Yoongi one at your side – he presses a bear bottle firmly to his lips. “Y/N, you’re not too bored right?”

Your brother raises an eyebrow, and you inspect his face, searching for a hint of deceit, only to find there is none.

“No, I’m fine.”

Namjoon and Taehyung, a few moments ago, had settled on the sofa beside Hoseok. The oldest of the two brings his left leg to rest atop the other and sighs deeply, crumpling in the slightest his can of soda. Taehyung, on the other hand, sits stiff, eyes trained on you in confusion, though, it is subtle enough that only you notice. He had seemed worried earlier, and with your abrupt retreat, you understand it hasn’t helped clear his mind.

“So, I heard it’s your birthday today, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soft, agreeable, spoken out of ample lips and a smile.

“Yeah,” your response is short, and you try to curb the bluntness of it with a kind smile. Hoseok snorts and adds to the exchange, “she’s turning 20, and she was sitting around all alone at home, moping.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, “I get that – I remember being really depressed when I turned 18.”

Yoongi joins in, “really? I don’t see the point of being sad about something you can’t control.”

You can count the amount of times you have heard him speak tonight on one hand. He has never been the most talkative, but tonight Yoongi is quiet. The conversation you overheard minutes prior peals through your thoughts. Hoseok had mentioned that his concern was one discussed with Yoongi, and you can’t help but link this to his silence.

“Are you kidding? Turning 20 is awesome, you can legally drink.”

Jungkook scoffs at Hoseok, “it’s not like that ever stopped you before.”

You are surprised to know that he has been listening, but the others don’t seem to make much of it. Your brother waves him off with a grin, “yeah.”

“Well, do you want a drink?”

Namjoon appears ready to rise from his seat, head tilted and soda abandoned on the coffee table. He awaits your answer, and when you shake your head no, he relaxes on the backrest again.

“Thank you, though.”

“No problem, you’re my guest.”

The rest of the night passes in a flow of laughter and conversation. You sit there and listen as the group of friends recount stories of past foolishness, an occasional smile resting on your lips. At some moment, you can’t seem to recall, Yoongi drapes his arm over both your shoulders. The action is affectionate, the show of a somewhat brotherly love, and you ignore with practice the intensifying ache in your chest.

It is more than you could have ever asked for, being able to love Min Yoongi.

(A/N: Pls support this, I love this story with all my heart, and if it flops I might cry. Also, we’ll see more of the nature of Yoongi and Y/N’s relationship next chapter :) This story will be very slow paced, and one of its main focuses will be Hoseok and Y/N’s family bond. I’ll try to post a part at least once a month, since this story really can’t be rushed. Thanks for understanding.)

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blakescoven · 5 years

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Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

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Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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Witness : 15

Breakdown

moodboard created by @chuuulip

Character(s): dark!Bucky, later dark!Steve, too

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

Summary: The reader’s new look attracts attention...and bad luck.

Notes: I am reposting this fic here. It was originally on ao3 but now it’s on tumblr too! If you read, I love feedback and would love any comments you have. And if you can, please share! Anyhow, enjoy :)

Bucky had invaded every aspect of your life and there was no running from it. After he had left you, you shoved the shopping bags in the corner and washed your bedding. You slept in your bed that night, figuring that you could never truly block out his presence. Even in your dreams, he was there; touching you, holding you down, inside of you. That you awoke in a sweat, your heart racing and body yearning, was even more unsettling than the images etched on the inside of your eyelids.

Your alarm was due in five minutes so you dismissed it and dragged yourself out of bed. You ate your usual breakfast before getting ready for work. Your new hairstyle was easier to maintain even if you did resent it. You wore one of your new blouses, hiding it beneath an old boxy sweater, and a tight skirt that flared at the knees. Your heels were low enough that your ankles didn’t bend but you preferred flats. You felt like a different person. Maybe, you were.

Your decrepit Honda sputtered before finally rumbling to life. You grew anxious as you neared Stark Tower. Perhaps you would be lucky and Bucky would be assigned a new mission out of town. Maybe Steve would go with him. You pulled into the parking garage and made your way inside, the elevator vacant to your delight. Even if you couldn’t come to feel comfortable in this placement, you had established a routine. Boot the computer, adjust your chair, organize the desk, tuck your bag underneath, get to work. You were only thankful that you had been allotted more than your usual greeting tasks. Pepper had handed you a list of Gill’s former responsibilities; one of which was curating Potts’ emails. She would forward those she was too busy to read and you would send some generic reply. Between that and coffee runs, your time was rather productive.

You set to your first e-mail on behalf of Pepper and the elevator dinged. You looked up, ready to greet the first visitor, but were disappointed to see an all-too- familiar face. Steve stutter-stepped when he saw you, tilting his head as he approached your desk, “Good morning, Y/N,” He crossed his arms, leaning over your desk, “Have you done something with your hair?”

“I just got a trim,” You answered evasively, “That’s all.”

“Nice blouse,” His eyes trailed downward and you readjusted your cardigan over the low-cut blouse, “Lovely colour on you.”

“Thanks,” You ran your thumb along the space bar, trying to turn your attention back to your work. “You have a meeting this morning?”

“Training,” He replied, “Tony wants to test out some new gear apparently.” The elevator dinged again and Bucky appeared behind him. Was Steve flexing? You weren’t sure he could make his muscles look any bigger than they already were. “No doubt this bozo will be joining us.”

“What did you just call me?” Bucky kidded as he came up on the other end of your desk.

“Nothing, I was just telling Y/N how nice she looks,” Steve explained, winking at you before turning to his fellow super soldier, “Doesn’t she?”

“Very,” Bucky grinned, “Hair cut?”

You stared him down before answering stiffly. “Yes,” You cleared your throat, “Just a trim.”

“Well…” Steve stood straight, his eyes never leaving you, “We should go, Buck,” He sounded less than eager, “Before Tony gets it in his mind to lecture us for being late.”

“When doesn’t he lecture us?” Bucky scoffed, “But I doubt he’d be very impressed if you wasted all his time flirting with the secretary.”

Steve finally tore his gaze away, shooting Bucky a sharp look. “I guess you’re right,” He smiled at you again, “See ya later.” He neared his companion and clapped him on the shoulder, “Come on then, let’s go.”

You watched them leave, holding your breath until they disappeared down the hall. It was bad enough dealing with one of them, but two was becoming unbearable. What butterfly wing had you crushed to deserve such a fate? You turned back to the screen and stared at the empty email, tapping on the desk as you tried to focus on being Pepper. It was, after all, a lovely fantasy to be anyone but you.

You got the night to yourself but it didn't feel like your own. A lingering sense of dread hung over you, as if the whole world was about to come crashing down. Well, you should have been used to it. That feeling had never truly dissipated since Bucky had inserted himself in your life. You supposed that sooner or later this entire affair would end in tragedy. Your fate was as good as signed and you just needed to accept it.

Why were you so damn stubborn? You couldn't run or hide so why did you even try to pretend? This inner dialogue of cynicism and self-pity continues for much of the night, keeping you awake, the ceiling staring back at you. When your alarm rang you silenced it and sat up with a grumble. Something was bound to go wrong, you just knew it. But what else in your life could possibly get worse?

You just couldn’t shake the feeling as you grabbed your purse and headed out the door that morning. You got in your car and stared at the side of your building before shoving the key in the ignition. The engine croaked and sputtered but did not turn. You tried again and again. Nothing. Your old Honda had finally kicked the bucket. You knew this day was coming but why did it have to be now?

This was what was wrong. To make your life even more difficult, the little you had was bound to turn to shit. You cursed and retrieved your purse from the other seat, stirring around in your wallet for change as you set off for the nearest subway entrance. A couple of streets up and you descended the concrete steps, your inner dialogue turning frantic. You hated the subway; overcrowded, dirty, confusing. It had been too long since your last venture down there and you hadn’t missed it at all. As you finally caught the right train, you stood, a hand on the bar and checked the time. Shit. You’d be lucky to get to work five minutes late.

When you reached your stop, you booked it out of the train and through the grimy tunnels, up the stairs and onto the street. You were huffing by the time you reached Stark Tower and paused to catch your breath before attempting to take the steps two at a time. Your heels were not meant for running. Your two slipped on the edge of the middle stair and you couldn’t keep yourself from falling. Your knee met painfully with the concrete stair and your purse was flung behind you in your disaster. You hissed and turned over, checking your knee before searching out your errant bag. A hand lifted it as you spotted it and you hid a cringe as Steve approached with your purse.

“Woah, you okay?” He knelt down, eyeing the blood rising along the gash in your knee. “That was a nasty fall.”

“I’m fine,” You reached out to take your bag. “Ah,” You made to stand and he grabbed your arm, helping you to your feet as you favoured your uninjured leg. “A little blood is all.”

“Let me help,” He kept hold of you, turned you up the steps, and led you inside as if you were an old woman. His strength was both impressive and frightening.

He stepped onto the elevator with you, finally releasing you. “Why were you in such a hurry?”

“I didn’t wanna be late,” You said with an air of obviousness, “Which…” You looked to your phone, “I am.”

“Late morning?” He asked.

“Mmm,” You grumbled. You weren’t sure how much you wanted to share with him. “Car broke down. Had to take the subway.”

“Shit, that sucks,” He uttered as the elevator dinged at the top floor.

He stood back as you hobbled out before him, the blood dripping down your calf. He stepped around you and pulled your rolly chair out for you and you sat heavily. “Thanks,” You sighed, “I think I can handle it from here.”

“Let me help,” He insisted, “One second.” He disappeared down the hallway and returned, holding a silver box in his hands. He came around and knelt before you, setting down the kit and unclasping the lid. “You really did a number on yourself.” He wiped away the blood before applying an alcohol wipe. Your leg twitched at the sting and you watched him quietly, unsure of how to get him to stop. He pressed gauze to the cut as he searched with other hand for a bandage. He finished up, running his thumb over the band-aid one last time to secure it and stood.

“What’s going on here?” You hadn’t heard Bucky enter and he approached the other side of your desk as Steve stayed beside you.

“Y/N fell. I was just helping patch her up,” He explained, closing the kit and placing it on your desk. “Say, Y/N, you should save yourself some time, and pain,” He glanced at your leg, “I can drive you while your car’s in the shop.”

“In the shop? No, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” You replied, “Besides, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t have you going out of your way for me.”

“Well, I mean, I couldn’t do every day but at least when I’m in town. Like a carpool.” He pressed you further, still making no move no retreat from behind you desk.

“I don’t--” You glanced over at Bucky and he grinned. He shrugged and waited for your response. “I guess. Okay.”

“I’ll take your number,” He took his phone out and unlocked it before handing it to you, “For convenience.” You slowly accepted the phone and looked at Bucky again; he was rather amused by the scene. You punched in your number and returned the cell to Steve.

“Well, thank you,” You swivelled and hit the power button on your computer, “But I think I should get to work now.”

“Of course,” Steve lingered before stepping away, taking the first aid kit with him. He came up beside Bucky and nudged him. “Let’s go find Tony.”

Bucky slowly let Steve guide him away, winking over his shoulder just before they turned down the hallway. You shook your head and felt your purse vibrate. You pulled out your phone and looked at the new message: ‘It’s Steve ;)’. You groaned and dropped your phone back in your bag, hiding it beside your feet. Your shitty old Honda was the least of your problems.

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #darkverse #au #mcu #marvel #fic #series #witness #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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jincherie · 6 years

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bumbleberry berceuse | un

➛ pairing: namjoon x reader ➛ genre: tengu au, forest/mountain deity au, fluff ➛ words: 11.6k+ ➛ rating: sfw ➛ warnings: injuries but otherwise nothing too alarming ➛ notes: a very very belated birthday fic for our beloved namjoon!! i can’t seem to stop myself from writing him as soft i--

Stumbling upon a winged man in the forest in dire need of help wasn’t exactly how you envisioned putting your freshly graduated veterinary skills to use, but the decision to help the handsome man was one you most certainly didn’t regret.

— posted; 30.09.2018 // masterlist | moodboard || un | deux

If someone had asked you a month ago, what would you be doing not even a week after your graduation, you probably would have told them you’d be lying in bed, sleeping off the stress that had accumulated in your body after your five long years of study.

As it happened, that wasn’t how things quite turned out at all.

Instead of snoozing away in the comfort of your large queen-sized bed, encompassed in your fluffy blanket and embraced by the abundance of pillows you’d gathered over the years, you were here— hiking through a forest in a place you’d never been to or even heard of before, with only your classmates for company. Well, those classmates were your friends, but right now you weren’t happy with them – going for a full day hike your first day in a new place wasn’t your idea of fun or destressing.

You didn’t really know the where you were very well—it was some remote island that one of your closer friends in the group, Yeri, had been raving about wanting to visit for months. You and a small handful of others had graduated in the same cohort for your degree and agreed that you should celebrate after your years of hard work finally came to an end. You’d thought they’d meant getting blackout drunk and gorging yourselves on sweet pastries and treats; apparently, they meant a three-week holiday to some island in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. You knew something was up when they’d come to pick you up and not one of them had a bag full of alcohol—you should have trusted your instincts and shut the door on their face.

You sighed. Ah, if only you had. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be three more smacks to the face from wayward branches away from unleashing all the complaints that had built up within you throughout the day.

You longed for the comfort of your bed, but since that wasn’t very plausible right now, you settled for the one you’d claimed in the hotel room. Even then, it wasn’t that appealing—you’d hardly even had time to settle in or open your suitcase before Yeri and the others were dragging you out for a full day hike. You weren’t one to mind exercise, but you only liked doing it on your terms—something this activity decidedly was not.

“Oh, don’t look so miserable, y/n!” a cheerful voice sounded to your right and you directed a displeased look in that direction. Yeri had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. “Look, isn’t it beautiful? This island is renowned for its untouched, natural beauty! It’s like it has hardly been touched by civilisation at all. Isn’t it refreshing?”

“I could have just as easily seen it from the hotel room window,” you said, not bothering to attempt and deny her words since the locale was very beautiful. The only thing stopping you from enjoying it was a tricky combination of your stubbornness and pride.

Yeri rolled her eyes, and there was a snort from behind you— if you hadn’t already passed the waterfall on the way back down you might have been inclined to push the person it had come from off the edge.

“Where’s your passion for the outdoors, y/n?” Minhyuk came up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder; you cringed at the feeling of extra heat and the way your skin stuck together where it met his from sweat. “Your zest for life? We just graduated! And now you’re spending time on an isolated island with your favourite people in the world!”

“Bold of you to assume that’s you,” you retorted, unable to stop the grin that came at his loud, affronted gasp, hand reaching to peel his arm off you.

“Oh, you wound me,” the male nearly tripped on a log in his dramatics, and you watched a bead of sweat roll from his temple, narrowly missing his crimson hairline. “Lucky for you, I like that kind of thing.”

You made a face and he cackled, Yeri reaching to smack his arm from your other side. Desperately, you wished there was a way for you to escape this island— you just wanted sleep, damn it. You’d let them bring you along on this sudden trip, but hiking? And expecting you to be a happy participant? On your first day of holidays? They were on thin fucking ice.

“Minhyuk, she’s going to push you off the next cliff she sees if you don’t stop it,” Irene warned as she climbed past the three of you— you might have been going back down the mountain, but it wasn’t exactly a linear journey. You made a noise of agreement but the male in question merely laughed. The trail you were currently on was fairly worn, but wasn’t the most used— not everyone wanted to climb to the highest possible peak on this mountain.

Which, strangely enough, wasn’t the very top. You’d been confused about it at first, but no one that you’d asked had an answer as to why the very top wasn’t accessible. Apparently it wasn’t just this mountain, but the other six across the island as well. No matter what routes had been attempted in the past, no one had ever been able to reach the top. The best you’d gotten in regards to an explanation came in the form of folklore from the locals of the small town-slash-village that sat at the entrance to a valley between two of the mountains, where you were currently staying. The lady with a kind, weathered face that sold hand-made necklaces of colourful shells and glazed sea glass besides the cafe had told you that for as long as the village had been there, no one had ever seen the tops of those mountains; it was legend among the locals that the seven deities that protected the island resided upon the very tops of the mountains. You, a sceptic at heart, had smiled and nodded in slight wonderment because even if you didn’t believe it yourself it was interesting to know what the people here believed.

Perhaps unfortunately, the six friends you’d come to this island with didn’t seem to share that scepticism. They wanted to try it for themselves, as you’d found when you’d embarked on this hike in the morning. They wanted to try and reach the top, to see if the legends were true, and of course they intended to take you along with them. Of those six friends, you’d been stuck with three— the others, Kihyun, Momo and Jinyoung, had taken a different path. They figured that splitting up and exploring more paths gave them a better chance of reaching it; you would argue that it just gave a better chance of getting lost. It was getting into late afternoon and while there might have been a few more hours of daylight left, there was barely any of it that reached the side of the mountain you were currently trekking back down. It made you conscious enough of your own steps that you watched where you placed your feet like a hawk.

Your limbs ached, the sort of ache that told you tomorrow morning was going to bring some very acute pain, and you decided you were torn between longing for your bed and longing for a hot bath to soak your muscles in. Getting clean would be a definite plus, too, since you'd amassed a generous amount of sweat and dirt over the day and you felt the grimiest you ever remembered feeling in your entire life. You lifted a hand to wipe your brow, thankful you hadn't gone the whole nine miles with your makeup today. God, that would be unfortunate— you'd end up reaching the bottom of the mountain and scaring the locals. You could only imagine the reactions you'd get if you wobbled down there on tired, unsteady legs, mascara smeared and looking like you'd pulled yourself straight out of a horror movie.

Yeri was chattering away happily beside you, but you couldn't focus on what she was saying very well. In all honesty, you just wanted to know when the hike would be done and you'd finally get off this stupid mountain. Your innate love of the outdoors had been squashed by the pain in your thighs and calves from almost six hours of climbing. This hike had really turned you into another person.

"Look!" it was Minhyuk's voice that interrupted your thoughts again, and you turned to follow the direction his finger was pointing in. To the left of your little group there was a light path that branched off this one, nowhere near as well-worn or wide but still there nonetheless. "I don't remember that from when we came up! Maybe it's a shortcut?"

He gasped before anyone could respond. "Oh, what if it's a secret path that will lead us to the top! I remember something like that being in one of the games I played the other month—"

Irene looked somewhat unimpressed at the way he was still so energised and eager to follow a wayward path on a whim and the off chance it would lead to the top of the mountain. "We just barely have gotten halfway down, and you want to go back up to the top?"

Minhyuk seemed like he was barely listening, already making his way over the area where the trail branched and peering down amongst the foliage. He whistled, seemingly impressed. "God, look! It goes really deep in the forest! The trees are so much thicker down there!"

Yeri snorted, and while you were all used to his antics, after a long day such as this one there wasn't much patience left to spare. Irene huffed, grasping Yeri's arm and tugging her back down the path you were already on. Your eyes watched them before your feet could think to follow, body extra heavy now that you'd paused your movement. It was gonna take a lot to get started again, you could feel it.

"Well, you can follow it if you want, but Yeri and I are going to keep on this trail," Irene said, turning and resuming her trek with the younger girl in tow. "I'd like to actually get back before it gets dark."

"Okay, you guys have fun!" Minhyuk called, waving his hand dismissively before it shot out to grasp your forearm and halt you in your attempt to follow them. "Thanks for coming with me, y/n!"

You sputtered, eyes wide. "What? No, I want to go back to the hotel!"

Minhyuk rolled his eyes, already tugging you towards the smaller trail he'd spotted; Yeri and Irene disappeared around a rocky corner, leaving you at his mercy. Traitors.

"That's the eventual destination, babe!" Minhyuk burst dramatically as he led you. "Nothing wrong with a little detour that may or may not lead us to be the first people in history to see the top of the mountain!"

"But I don't wanna go up again," you whined, not even bothering to try pulling back against his hold since your muscles were currently in a worse state than his, if the energy he still had in his bouncing gait was anything to go by. "I physically can't handle it— do you want me to die? Because that's how this is going to end if you try making me go up this damn mountain again."

"You're so dramatic," Minhyuk waved his hand once more, dodging a low branch with ease and just barely indicating in time for you to do the same; it was really starting to get quite dark, your eyes were straining a bit to see. "Even if it doesn't take us to the top of the mountain, it's probably a shortcut!"

That was leaving an awful amount up to chance. You didn't like it one bit.

However, you'd rather go down this path with Minhyuk than leave him alone to his own devices. He was usually the one terrorising the group, but you knew he was just as much of a scaredy cat deep down as the rest of you. He might start crying if he got lost in here at night and as much as you were currently annoyed at him he was still your friend and you absolutely did not want that. Plus, if you parted from him now you would probably get lost yourself trying to find Irene and Yeri. There wasn't much winning in this situation, it seemed.

The two of you walked along the trail for a while, and you did notice that the foliage around here was thicker as he'd said, denser than that you'd been walking through before. It was interesting, but also meant that it got darker much quicker. You'd all brought along things like torches, matches, etcetera, in case you needed them, and it looked like you would be very soon. You didn't fancy tripping on a log or stone and tumbling the rest of the way down the mountain.

"Do you think we'll make the news?" the male asked, turning to you with wide, hopeful eyes. "Dude, we'd be famous. That would be so cool."

"First of all, I don't think there's any way we're going to reach the top of the mountain, especially when we're going downhill," you said, stepping carefully over a large, somewhat unstable-looking rock and using his shoulder as support. He let out a sharp noise of protest at being used. "Second of all, this island is so tiny that I hadn't even heard of it before we came here! I don't think we would be on any news."

Minhyuk let out a disappointed sigh, peering off into the distance through the trees; you could both see the light from the sunset bleeding away into shadow on the opposite mountain. It made an odd feeling settle in your stomach, something akin to urgency thrumming just beneath your skin. You really didn't fancy the idea of being caught on this mountain, on some dodgy trail, come nightfall.

"At least we'd be famous among the locals," the crimson-haired male mused, hopping over a wayward stick with a triumphant noise. "Legends! The unlikely duo that managed to make it to the top of the mountain!"

You rolled your eyes as he continued to prattle on, admittedly a little amused by his antics. You were tired and absolutely ready for a bath and bed, but you were still having a little fun. At some point you deemed it necessary to pull out your torch— probably somewhere along the line after your third and Minhyuk's second trip over seemingly nothing— and now you had at least a little bit more light to guide you. It didn't seem like a shortcut, but you could tell the path was taking you somewhere at least; you just hoped it was in the general direction that you needed.

However, as it grew darker and you walked further along the trail, Minhyuk began to get jumpier. You knew he didn't want to admit he was scared, probably couldn't handle a blow to the pride like that, but you'd known him long enough to be able to tell he was a bit unsettled. You wished you'd stayed on the main path, but didn't bother complaining since he seemed to be suffering enough for his decision to make up for it.

"Gah!" it wasn't much longer before Minhyuk screamed, something having sounded in the distance. It seemed like the crack of a twig, and honestly you hadn't even spared it so much as a second thought, but it seemed to have gotten to the male beside you. His hand gripped your forearm, seeking comfort. "The fuck was that?!"

"Your karma," you snorted, beginning to walk once more. Minhyuk whined, trailing reluctantly after you; you weren't one to scare easily, and knew realistically there wasn't that much to worry about. For Minhyuk though, who probably believed the tales he'd been told about deities living on the very peaks of these mountains, there was probably a lot of irrational things he was scared of in this forest.

"Shut up, y/n, this place is spooky," he said defensively, sniffing when you turned to torch to him and flashed a deadpan look.

"We probably could have been home by now if you hadn't decided you wanted to follow this dumb path," you said, ignoring the way your leg wobbled slightly on your next step from overuse. When you got back to the hotel, you were going to knock out the second your head hit the pillow and sleep like the dead. You didn't think anything would even be able to wake you until your body was ready for it.

"This is probably a shortcut!" he didn't even sound like he believed it himself, wide-eyed as his gaze flitted around your surroundings. "We're probably really close to the bottom!"

You raised your brow at him; he said that, but you'd noticed that the ground you'd been walking on the past few minutes was actually somewhat level, despite the fact that it was too soon for you to have reached the bottom already.

"Whatever you say, Minnie," you said, pushing on with him lagging a few seconds behind you.

Despite the words he'd no doubt spoken to comfort himself as much as you, not that you needed it, the tall male only managed to get jumpier as you went. To be fair, there were more sounds beginning to filter into the air around you as the creatures of the day retired and the creatures who made their home in the night began to wake. So it wasn't like he was jumping at nothing, although you were getting a bit worried as to exactly how scared he was growing. Was he going to be okay? You weren't getting scared yourself but the extent to which he was reacting to the environment did make you somewhat unsettled, more so than you usually would.

After the male screamed again, for what had to be the fifth time, you finally burst, "Will you stop that! There's nothing there dude, you're just freaking us both out."

Minhyuk stomped his foot, shining his torch in the trees where the sound had come from. "I heard something! It was different this time, I swear. It sounded like something really big stepping on a twig or something."

You squinted at him, keeping your torch pointed at the ground. "How have you survived this long with an overactive imagination like that?"

He ignored you, still staring into the trees with furrowed brows, and you let out a sigh.

"It's probably just those other rich tourists that arrived on the ferry with us," you said, grasping his arm in what you aimed to be a comforting manner. "They're probably on their way back down too; I saw them leaving for the trail this morning."

Your words seemed to soothe your companion somewhat, and he turned back to you with a small smile. "The ones with the loafers?"

You snorted, beginning to walk again. "Yeah, and the 'had to do it to em' outfits."

Minhyuk cackled, and you were glad you'd managed to take his mind off his needless worries. Your victory was short-lived, however, as there was another loud noise sounding not far from your whereabouts that had even you pausing. Minhyuk yelped, and you barely had time to turn let alone console him before the noise returned, louder now, and seemed like it was growing closer.

This, in combination with the branch you'd just passed hitting against Minhyuk's back, was enough to make him snap and finally activate his fight or flight response. He let out a sharp noise that reeked of fear and alarm and darted off, body contorting away from whatever had touched it.

"GAH, FUCK WHAT THE FUCK! y/n RUN!"

"Minhyuk, wait!" you called with wide eyes, going to follow after him but tripping on the rock laid conveniently at your feet. The fall wasn't far but your knees still stung as they hit the ground, dirt and rocks digging into your sore skin. Your mind whirled, attempting to catch up to whatever had just transpired, and you listened as that same noise sounded even closer now— you recognised belatedly that it was the sound of something thudding against the earth. You rose to your feet, Minhyuk now long gone, not even the light of his torch visible through the darkness and dense forestry, and scrambled mentally for what to do. You wondered what the hell kept falling so loudly in the first place to make Minhyuk leg it so quickly like a spooked animal, and you wondered how you were going to find him— you hoped he'd stayed on the path.

As your mind began to kick in, you realised that whatever fell must have been a decent size if it was making such a racket— and you quickly came to the conclusion that it could be a wounded animal, or even another hiker. As a recently graduated veterinary student, and a compassionate human being at heart, you decided to check out whatever had been making the noise before you went further down the path in search of Minhyuk. You knew it would bother you more than you could handle if you didn't, and so you waited for the sound to come again before brushing your knees and heading in that direction.

Thankfully, wherever it came from wasn't a place with foliage as thick as the other side of the path. You used your torch to watch where you were stepping, illuminating the path for a few feet ahead of you. Where you were walking seemed like a rough game trail rather than the hiking path you'd been on before with Minhyuk, which was fortunate since you didn't fancy the idea of weaving through tree trunks and around spiky shrubbery with nothing to guide you.

The further you went, the more your straining ears picked up— heavy breaths, pained noises, the shuffling of limbs against the earth. You grew a bit worried, not for yourself, but for whatever was making those noises. You didn't have the proper tools to treat an animal that was hurt as badly as this one sounded, although there wasn't any wailing so you counted that as a good sign. Maybe it was just sick and tired? But even so, what would you do in that case? Drag it down the mountain? You frowned to yourself as you went, half wondering what you'd find and half wondering what the hell you'd do once you did. It occurred to you randomly that this was something Minhyuk would never do, especially given his recent show of fear. You just weren't scared by those sorts of things. Your scepticism allowed you to remain objective about a lot of things, which you were definitely grateful for.

So caught up in your thoughts were you, that you didn't even realise the trees had parted slightly and there was a small metre or so squared area of nothing but grass, leaves and twigs. Your flashlight moved with your stride and you froze on the spot as it shone over something large and hulking, black as ink even beneath the artificial light.

What the fuck was that.

Your first thought was bear, but then you really didn't think there would be bears on an island like this— boar? No, it was shaped too funnily to be a boar. Your internal musing was cut short as the shape shifted, rolling on the earth with a groan.

Holy shit was that a person?!

"Oh shit, are you okay?!" you burst, rushing forth before you could entertain any second thoughts. You got within a few feet of the person on the ground before you halted suddenly once more. "What happened— oh holy fuck, are those wings?!"

The figure— male, as you noticed, with what looked like a massive pair of inky god damn wings stemming from his back— merely groaned, barely managing to crack his eyes open against the stark light of your torch. You quickly pointed it away from his face, too fucking shell-shocked to muster an apology despite the urge that rose within you.

The man— bird-man— creature— whatever he was, pulled himself onto his front and attempted to stand, only to wobble and crumple back onto his knees. He was panting heavily, breathing laboured, and as the light of your torch fell across his wings you noticed with a sickening feeling that one of them didn't look right. The feathers in disarray, the muscle and bone bulging beneath the skin in ways they most definitely shouldn’t, and the limb held differently to the way it should be; it was only now that you noticed the blood staining the dark feathers and gleaming in the flashlight.

He attempted to stand once more, ragged breaths and gasps of pain breaking you from your stupor and you rushed to help him on instinct as he crumpled once more, wings be damned. If you didn't think about them then maybe your mind wouldn't blow up from the overload of stimulus. You darted forward, grasping his arm and pressing a hand against his abdomen so he didn't fall forward.

"Don't," he panted, attempting something like a growl only to have it cut off into a pained groan. His hand grasped yours weakly, scrabbling to pull it off; your brows furrowed at how weak he was. Did he have other injuries? You weren't a human doctor, but you could tell that an injury to the wings shouldn't be affecting him so much that he looked like he was a hop, skip and a step away from death’s door. "Don't touch me. Get off."

The low register of his voice might have distracted you, were you not so consumed with worry.

"What happened to you?" you asked, refusing to budge as he attempted to shift away once more. "I just want to help you, you're really hurt dude."

"Get off me, human," the man— creature— bird-man tried to pull away from you once more, but still wasn't strong enough to attempt it. "I won't give you my wings."

"I don't want them?" you said, confused as to why he was acting like you'd chased him through the forest for the feathery limbs sprouting from his back— oh shit, was that what had happened? Was he being chased, hunted? That was so wrong, and your mind was too overloaded to really comprehend the thought as it ran through your head. "Wait, are there people after you?"

Your words made him pause, and you felt your breath catch in your lungs as he turned his head to face you, dark cocoa eyes with specks of amber peering at you through raven locks that stuck to his forehead from sweat. A startling wave of heat flushed over you for a moment, leaving your limbs chilled in the aftermath, and you couldn't help but stare. Had you ever seen someone so strikingly beautiful?

"You don't want... you don't want my wings?" his voice was rough and succeeded in breaking you from your momentary reverie, your eyes blinking rapidly as you refocused on the present. The shift in his demeanour at the realisation your words prompted was instantaneous, a plea making its way across his fine features. "Then please, help me."

You were agreeing before you knew it, mouth running before you mind ever had a chance to catch up. "I'll help you," you said quickly, adjusting your grasp on him. "What do you need? Where are the people chasing you?"

The answer to your last question came in the form of a noise in the distance, the muffle of voices and shifting shrubbery. Your heart leapt in alarm, gaze whipping back to the male in your arms.

"Fuck, we gotta go," your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you struggled to think what to do. You couldn't go down the path, because that would be predictable, but you'd also never stepped foot in this forest before today and had no idea where else to go. "God, I'm going to be so lost."

The male seemed to have calmed somewhat at the revelation that you were a friend rather than a foe, and his dark eyes met yours once more, holding the gaze steadily. His breathing was still somewhat laboured, grasp on you weak, but there was a certain levelness, a certain strength in his eyes that captured you so wholly for the moment you remained frozen in your spot.

"I can help you find your way back," he said, voice low and raspy as it escaped his throat. His tongue darted to wet full lips that had begun to dry. "If you can help me get to my home. I can't outrun them on my own, they shot me with something and it’s— it's poisoned me."

You soaked up the information he was giving you, storing it away for later— throughout your degree you'd grown accustomed to absorbing any and all information you could about the animals you treated because it was usually all crucial. As soon as you filed it away, you did your best to refocus on the situation at hand. A part of you resisted, called for you to leave and return to the trail and look for Minhyuk, and your first instinct was to follow that. But you held fast, the ache in your heart for the person before you greater than your desire to make it down the mountain and back to the safety of your hotel.

You moved closer to the male, slipping his arm over your shoulder while being mindful of his wing; he was taller than you, but the weakened slouch in his posture meant his head hovered around the same height as yours.

"Okay," you said, feeling the scorching warmth his body radiated even through the materials draped over his form. "I'll help you. Tell me where to go."

The male shot you a look so wrought with gratitude you could have honestly wept, and at the distantly approaching sound of voices he was quick to instruct you. You turned your torch to the lowest setting, and off you went to take the bird-man to safety.

Optimistically, you entertained the thought that perhaps you were dreaming.

x x x x x x

Half an hour of trekking through the forest with a large bird-man draped across your shoulder later had you thinking that perhaps you'd be needing a bit more than optimism to get your head around this. Not long ago, the male had halted you in your steps, directing you over to a large section of rocky cliff-face around a metre and a half or so tall. You'd listened, perplexed, and watched as he pressed his hand to the surface—

—and the god damn rock shifted away to reveal a tunnel of sorts.

At this point you were convinced you'd gotten heatstroke or something during the day and were now heavily hallucinating. Or perhaps you'd really passed out on the trip down and were now having a frivolous fever dream with incredibly attractive winged men and melting rocks.

Either way, you hadn't been able to do anything but follow the bird-man's lead and enter into the tunnel, only your torch there to guide you. The male you were supporting didn't seem to need it to see, but you did and so it stayed on— you didn't need yourself tripping and taking the both of you down somewhere along the line.

You didn't know how long you'd expected the trip through the tunnel to be, but you were coming upon an end sooner than you anticipated. You expected another wall of rock, perhaps even an open end, but to your complete and utter surprise what greeted you was a thin, nicely-made sliding door. Your feet slowed but the stranger's did not, and so you were forced to continue on until you were sliding it open and letting out a sharp gasp at the sight that lay beyond.

It was, quite honestly, beautiful— perhaps one of the most stunning natural scenes you'd ever seen— and to be fair only added to your suspicion that you were currently in the midst of a fever dream. But could your mind really conjure such a sight on its own? The glittering sight of the sky and its reflection upon the smooth waters of the lake to the side, inky depths bathed in moonlight and looking like a cave with walls decorated in gemstones. The glow of soft lanterns around the edge of the meadow rimmed with high stone walls and broken by ornate pillars, the soft whispering of weeping trees and the pastel blossoms that fell from their branches to brush the earth. It was so much, too much, and you were in such awe that you completely forgot the situation that had brought you there in the first place.

"Holy..." your voice couldn't raise above an awed murmur. "Where are we?"

You hadn't been expecting a response, the question muttered mostly to yourself, but the male to your side supplied an answer nonetheless.

"We're at the top of the mountain," he said, coughing harshly at the end before he recovered. "The very peak."

You gaped at him, recalling the lore you'd heard from the villagers earlier. "You're..."

The male didn't seem to hear you that time, instead trying to take a step from you on his own. He failed miserably of course, and you flew to catch him with a yelp before he could crumple completely. "Dude, you are not okay. Do you live up here? Is there somewhere for you to sit and rest?"

The male nodded, raven locks falling across his forehead as he did so. He lifted his free arm and pointed to your right, the opposite of the small lake. "Through the trees."

You turned, following the direction of his gesture with your eyes, and proceeded to help him that way. You tried not to let your mouth hang open as you shuffled between the trees, a tunnel of soft green and pink with leaves so silky as they brushed your skin that it left a shiver in their wake. Before long you were emerging from the gentle, sweeping foliage and arriving upon another small clearing that housed a peculiar structure; you couldn't tell if it was more bungalow or temple in its architecture, for it seemed to be a mixture of both.

You figured this was where the stranger lived, and so began making your way up there. You were admittedly driven by the fact it sounded like his breath was growing harsher against your ears and it felt like he was growing heavier against your shoulders. You needed to get him sitting and resting, because if he'd really been poisoned in some way then all of this movement definitely wasn't good for him.

The door slid open with ease once you'd arrived in front of it, and you were greeted with a surprisingly open and spacious area. A kitchen to one side, cushions, a desk and table to the other; up the back of the room sat several doors, similar to the one you'd just passed through and the one that had laid at the end of the tunnel. On the other side of the cushions were more sliding doors, which you had a feeling lead to a balcony of sorts.

"How does this whole area fit on the very top of the mountain," you muttered to yourself as you helped the two of you to the door that man had pointed to; your limbs were sore, so sore, a deep ache riding in your bones, and you feared exactly what pain you were going to wake up to tomorrow.

"The peak of the mountain is only an illusion," the male managed to pant in response, surprising you once more with an answer you hadn't really been expecting.

"I..." you swallowed, squinting as your brain tried to wrap around that titbit. Winged men, melting rock, a meadow on the peak of the mountain... wasn't this too much, even for your brain to have come up with? This was awfully elaborate and detailed for a fever dream. You refused to consider the alternative, for the sake of your sanity.

Once you reached the room he'd indicated and entered, you had to pause for a moment to take in the sight that greeted you. Considering how clean and well-kept the other parts of his home had been, you'd been expecting the same in here— you had been wrong, however. The floor might have been clean, as well as the table to the side, but the bed that was kept only a foot or so off the floor was another story. Plush cushioning and thick, soft blankets lined the mattress, situated in such a way that they oddly reminded you of a nest— the odd garment of clothing was draped into the structure and you might have been slightly impressed if you weren't so focused on finding somewhere to sit him.

The male was quick to redirect your attention, and you noticed with a slight sense of surprise that his cheeks had reddened at what you'd seen.

"In here," he rasped, straining to lead you. "The washroom."

Getting in and out through the other doorways with his massive wings in tow had been a task and a half, a somewhat difficult ordeal, but you'd managed it well until now— it was as the two of you entered into this room that his wounded wing finally succumbed to the inevitable and banged against the doorway. He yelped sharply, the sound so wrought with pain that you felt it tug at your own heartstrings, and flinched away from the sensation, into you. His other wing nearly flew out to compensate for the sudden shift in balance, but you managed to keep the two of you upright enough to prevent it from doing that.

"Shit, are you okay?" you asked, pressing a hand to his chest without thinking to keep him stable. His heart was racing beneath your palm, breathing ragged and eyes pinched shut.

"I've never felt such pain before," he ground out, eyes opening to reveal a particular glisten that only came from budding tears. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me— to my wings."

You made a soft noise of sympathy, guiding him more carefully into the room he wanted. You stopped for a moment to admire it, stepping carefully down the steps. The floor of this room sunk several feet into the ground, while the ceiling remained the same height, effectively making the room bigger than those in the rest of the structure, albeit in a different way. The floor was a mix of wood and stone, and your eyes swept over a basin, stool, small table, and pile of soft-looking fabric you assumed to be towels, before they fell upon a bath that was built into the ground in the corner of the room, extending above the floor a good foot and a half. It looked deep, water trickling constantly from an opening in the wall, and you grabbed the stool before making your way over. You wondered how it didn't overflow, but figured it probably had an outlet that allowed the water to filter out at the same rate it poured in to keep it the same level. The room was illuminated by soft lanterns hung in each corner, and you were grateful for their presence since your hands weren't exactly free at the moment.

You shifted towards what you presumed to be the bath, placing the stool down before it and easing the bird-man down— the wall of the bath was a bit higher, so you'd be sitting on that instead. The male let out a groan as he seated himself completely, the sound a mixture between relieved and pained.

You were quick to stand, shaking your limbs out; it was time to get down to business.

"What exactly happened?" you started, keeping your expression soft. "Where are you hurt? You mentioned poison?"

The male coughed, dark cocoa eyes meeting yours and rendering you breathless for the second time this night. "They shot at me with crossbows," he answered, hand pressed against his chest and the other clutching his thigh, dark material of his clothes bunching beneath his grip. "I don't think they were locals, because no one here uses those metals. It burns."

"Metals?" you echoed, head tilting as something familiar stirred in your memory. "... do heavy metals like lead and copper poison you?"

The male seemed surprised at your knowledge, nodding slowly. "Yes, how did you...?"

"I'm a vet," you answered quickly, before backtracking at the blank look he displayed. "Animal doctor. I know because birds are often poisoned by things like heavy metals."

His cheeks seemed to flush at your words, but he didn't acknowledge it. You couldn't help but wonder what you'd said that had prompted such a response.

"I have materials in the chest beneath the basin," he said, and you turned in surprise to see the chest he'd mentioned that you hadn't even seen before in your first sweep of the room. You moved over and opened it as he continued to give you instructions. "I'll need the solution in the small blue vial. Hopefully it will work for this."

You retrieved the container in question and quickly moved back over to the male, placing it gently into his outstretched hand. Your gaze swept over him as he pulled the cork from the vial and downed its contents, the new lighting allowing you to see more of him than you had been able to before. He was tall, as you'd noticed initially, and the large, looming wings that stemmed from his back had sleek raven feathers that were the same inky shade as the thick locks that curled across his forehead. His clothes looked more like robes, with layers of material greeting your eyes. The colours were consistently dark though, bouncing between black and dark blues and greys. You thought the bold contrast, especially against his honey skin, suited him nicely.

Luckily for you, he didn't seem to notice the way your stare had swept entirely over his form, too busy wincing at the flavour the solution had left on his tongue. He squirmed, shuddering as its effects began to kick in, and allowed his posture to droop a little bit more. It struck you suddenly that he was placing a lot of trust in you right now, leaving his defences incredibly low considering the ordeal that had allegedly landed him in this situation in the first place.

“Was that for the poison?” you queried, giving him a moment to collect himself; he jumped at the sound of your voice, as though he’d forgotten you were there for a moment. His wide eyes flew to where you stood.

“Ah, yes,” he answered, somewhat awkwardly. He cleared his throat, face scrunching presumably at the discomfort he was feeling from the poison and his wing, as well as whatever he’d just ingested. “It will nullify what it can and flush out the rest. It’s easier to treat than…”

“Your wing?” you finished for him, offering a small smile when he nodded and shifted a bit in discomfort. “I can help with that, I’ve mended broken wings before.”

Once more, the male seemed taken aback by your knowledge and area of expertise. He didn’t speak for a moment and you took his silence as acquiescence to your offer. Turning back to the chest beneath the basin, you rooted around for some bandages, wrap and gauze. You peered inside, searching for anything else that could be useful, and made a pleasantly surprised noise as your fingers wrapped around a jar and pulled it out.

"Honey," you read the messy cursive along the side. "Perfect."

The male was sending you a curious look as you turned back around with the items in hand, and you sent him a smile as you made your way back over.

"Is it only your wing that's wounded?" you queried, glancing over his body once more but unable to tell if he had any other wounds due to the fabric covering him.

The male nodded, cheeks warmed, his gaze averting from you only to flicker back not long after. He was acting like a shy teenage boy that had invited a girl into his room for the first time, and you had to fight back a giggle at the thought.

"I managed to dodge most of their arrows," he answered, lifting his arm— your gaze moved to his side where there was a gap in the cloth that had been disguised by his bicep and elbow. "But one got me in my side, and the end snapped off when I fell— the arrows grazed my wings but it was the tumble that broke one."

You made a sound of acknowledgement, moving so that you were behind him and seated on the edge of the bath. You placed the items on the floor by your feet, rubbing your hands together before dipping them into the water; it was perfect room temperature and almost felt as though it wasn't there at all as it dripped from your fingers.

"Okay, I'll sort your wing out first then we can take a look at that arrow wound," you said, since he didn't display anything more than discomfort you figured it hadn't gone that deep and you could afford to wait a little more. Besides, it seemed like his wing was causing him the most pain. You had to pause for a moment, baffled that was an actual thought that had just run through your head. No, it was fine— this was just a fever dream, it's fine.

"That would be good," the male said, sounding just as awkward as his posture indicated he felt. "... Thank you, human, for helping me."

You waved your hand dismissively despite the fact he couldn't see. "It's no problem, it's in my nature to help, I guess. Is it okay if I touch your wings?"

You knew you'd have to do it anyway to fix it, but it felt oddly rude to just touch his wings without asking; they were so majestic, so beautiful and surreal it felt like it would be too intimate of an action to perform without his consent. At his nod you allowed your hands to settle gently on the affected limb, the feathers brushing against your skin like liquid silk. You caught the shiver that rolled down his spine at your careful touch and hoped that it wasn't one of pain. You stood up, knowing you needed to identify the location of the break you suspected to be there. Your gaze caught on the scraps of material around his shoulders and back that were blocking your touch a little.

"Can you take off your shirt— uh, your robes? It'll make it easier for me to see your wing and find the break," you said, cheeks heating slightly in embarrassment. The process and actions were familiar to you, but the scenario was entirely different— you'd never tended to a bird that had a human body or that had a human face as attractive as this.

The male sputtered, attempting a response before merely giving up and allowing his head to dip in a nod. You released his wing, watching as he slipped the material from his upper half with practiced ease. The cloth moved like liquid across his shoulders, gleaming slightly in the lantern light in a way that reminded you of fine silk and satin. It didn't take long before his shoulders and back were bared to you, with the exception of the areas his wings blocked off. You murmured a thanks before returning to the task you'd previously begun, fingers sinking into the soft, silky down of his wing once more. Another shiver greeted you at the motion but you tried to ignore it for both your sakes.

Carefully, you grasped the wing and extended it slightly so it wasn't so folded— the male let out a soft hiss at the motion but didn't stop you, understanding it was necessary. It was at this moment you realised he was still very much a stranger and here you were, preparing to help bandage his broken wing and then fish out the tip of an arrow from his side. You didn't even know his name!

"By the way," you started, fingers feeling softly along the bone at the upper portion of his wing for the source of the break; you had a feeling it would be on the inner side, closer to his back. "Who are you? What are you?"

The male started a little, letting out a sharp, pained gasp when you prodded a certain area. "Ah, there, I think it's there," he took a moment to collect himself before continuing, with you easing your fingers off the painful area as he did. "And I'm... My name is Namjoon. I'm the deity that resides upon this mountain peak and protects the island's inhabitants."

You let out a soft, unintentional whistle at his words. This was awfully intricate and tied into reality for a fever dream, but you didn't want to consider the alternative and so just decided to go with it, for your brain's sake. It didn't hit you until a few moments later that if what he said was true, you were currently touching the wings and fixing up the wounds of the local deity— the being that the islanders revered and paid their respects to for protection. You didn't really know how to process that revelation and decided to put it on the backburner.

"That's, uh... neat," you shuffled back a little, surveying his wing; the feathers were still ruffled and bloodied in some places, something you'd need to take care of before wrapping it. "Is it okay if I clean your wing and fix the feathers a little? I don't want it to be uncomfortable and crusty when I wrap it."

The male, Namjoon, nodded his consent, and to your surprise he shifted and held out a washcloth. Where had that come from? You decided not to think too much about it. Taking it from his grasp, you wet it in the bath behind you before wringing it out, speaking up again as you did so, "My name is y/n."

You thought you heard him repeat your name softly to himself, but couldn't be sure. Once most of the water was wrung from the cloth, you brought it gently to the feathers across the massive expanse of his wing that were covered in drying blood and began to wipe them clean as carefully as you could. You succeeded for the most part, only eliciting the occasional shiver and soft whimper. Most of the areas that had blood you assumed to have either healed or just been from broken feathers or minor nicks in the skin, since there weren't any visible wounds when you checked over them. You put it down to some god-like healing ability he probably had.

Your fingers ran gently through the feathers as you went, nudging them softly back into place and making the wing appear much sleeker and more streamlined, as you presumed it was supposed to look. With his feathers clean and orderly, it made it that much more obvious where the break was and you placed the cloth down with a hum.

“Well, the good news is that the bone isn’t sticking out so it’s not as badly broken as it could be,” you said, returning your hands to the affected area ever so gently, trying to discern what kind of break it was and if there was only one or more; you winced at the sharp intake of breath on his end that resulted from your touch on the tender skin. “And I think, from what I can tell, that there’s only one break— it doesn’t seem to be too jostled so I won’t have to move it back in place. I think it should be okay if I just wrap it. There is a cut that I presume is from an arrow near it though, so I’ll treat that too.”

Namjoon nodded, turning to glance over his shoulder as you reached for the honey, eyes caught on watching the firm muscles shift beneath the smooth skin of his back as he moved. His wings fluttered softly, the left one more so than the right, as he adjusted himself and you found the gesture oddly endearing.

He didn’t talk much as you set about tending to his wounds, carefully setting and wrapping his wing so it didn’t move too much and allowed for optimal healing. You wondered why he was so quiet before you remembered he’d been chased through the forest and poisoned a little, so was probably understandably exhausted. You found your own fatigue catching up to you now, as you wound the gauze around his wing a final time, your limbs feeling as though they weighed more and more with each motion you had them conduct. An ache was settling deep in your bones, and your eyes began to burn, tired brain urging you to close them and rest. It had been a long day, for the both of you.

By the time you’d managed to fix up his wing, the cut and the wound on his side, the two of you were just about ready to fall asleep where you sat. With somewhat wobbly legs, you rose and helped him up, almost dragging him back to the room you’d come through to get here. You were extra mindful of his wings now, and they fluttered softly as he walked, the unwounded one curving slightly to drape around his side like a cloak while the other remained constrained within your bindings. When he reached his bed you eased him down with a groan from the both of you, his eyes closing as he went down. By the time he’d flopped onto his stomach completely, he was out. In all honesty, you weren’t far behind. You slid to the floor beside the bed, meaning to take only a moment’s rest before shifting to somewhere more opportune, but once you were down it was all over from there. Your lids fluttered clothes and within seconds you were well on your way to the land of dreams.

Could you dream in the midst of a fever dream? You supposed you’d find out.

x x x x x x x x

The first thing you thought when you woke up was, holy fuck did your neck hurt. Blinking awake and wincing at the acute pain in your neck from the barest movement, it didn’t take you long to realise you’d fallen asleep sitting against the bed, which was no doubt the cause of your pain. Having said that, an attempt to sit up had you realising with a groan that the pain you’d expected from yesterday’s activities had very much arrived. Your thighs, calves— hell, even your shoulders, were all tight and sore. You’d need to do some serious stretching later; maybe you could get Yeri, or even Irene to help you—

You paused, the thought triggering a certain set of memories that were quick to flood your mind. The forest, Minhyuk disappearing, the winged man who was apparently a deity and lived on the top of this mountain. Your head was reeling as you attempted to reign your focus back in— had all that really happened? Your gut twisted in an answer of its own, while your mind vehemently denied the possibility. How could it have happened? There was no way, absolutely no way…

Blinking, you allowed your gaze to finally wander, sweeping over your surroundings. A room that seemed oddly familiar, but felt different than you’d expected. It took a second for the reason to hit you; this wasn’t your hotel room. Something akin to panic rose within you, your body lurching into a sitting position despite the resulting pain that throbbed in your limbs. No, this wasn’t your hotel room, this was the room that belonged to the bird-man-deity, Namjoon, in your dream. But that prompted the question; had it really been a dream at all, or were you still currently in the middle of it. It didn’t feel like a dream, but you didn’t know how else to explain the memories you had and the things you’d seen…

You couldn’t help but think that Minhyuk would have handled this much better than you.

Your admittedly chaotic thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound, from outside the room you were currently in, and a pained turn of your head had you realising belatedly that the bed you were leaning against was currently empty. Which begged the question…

Where was the bird-man?

With much effort and sheer force of will, you managed to pull yourself to your feet, the bed admittedly playing a large supporting role in the feat. It hurt a little to move your legs but it was fine, nothing you couldn’t really handle. You suspected that as soon as you moved more and got to stretch them it would ease the pain somewhat.

The shuffle out of the room and in the direction of where you’d heard the noise come from was a surprisingly quiet affair, and that meant that when you froze at the entrance to the kitchen its occupant didn’t notice your presence.

Namjoon, as you recalled he’d introduced himself, was fiddling with something, a pot from what you could glimpse, and gently throwing some food items inside. You sniffed, fighting a soft moan at the enticing scent and slapping a hand quietly to your stomach when it roiled in hunger. Surprisingly, the male still didn’t notice you— you didn’t doubt the large, inky wings played a role in obscuring you from his vision. Subconsciously, your eyes strayed to analyse your handiwork; the bandage and gauze was holding up well, the wing not looking like it was sitting too uncomfortably or too restricted. You felt a pang of pride in your chest. All those hours of prac had come in handy.

You didn’t get to stroke your own ego for very long though, because a few moments later and the male was turning. Your breath caught in your throat, since you weren’t ready at all — you hadn’t even thought of what you were going to say yet— and you might have let out a panicked yelp did he not beat you to it. As he turned, his wings shifted, ruffling slightly, and the bandaged one didn’t cause any problems but the unrestricted one decided it was time to stretch. It extended as he turned, succeeding thoroughly in knocking a large array of items from the bench. Your mouth dropped open, hand extended to help, as the winged man before you whirled around and scrambled to catch the items; he ended up knocking more things down in the process.

“Gods,” you heard him mumbling under his breath. “This is the worst. I haven’t had to have my wings out constantly in so long— this house is not wing friendly.”

Unable to hold it back at the hilarity of the entire scene before you, a snort slipped from you before you could stop it. The male shot upright, back ramrod straight and eyes wide as they found you, and once more his wings proved to be too large and clumsy for the space he was occupying as a bowl went tumbling from the counter and hurtled towards the floor.

You were aware enough of the situation at this point that you could lurch forward and catch it in time, the cool, smooth stone nearly slipping from your fingers before you grasped it securely. The male was gaping at you, his own large hands outstretched in the ghost of his belated attempt to catch the bowl as he fumbled for something to say.

“I, ah— you’re up,” was all he managed, face flushing. You’d noticed he was a little awkward, but if anything it was kind of endearing. “I was making something for the pain— mine and yours. Your limbs are sore, no doubt?”

You nodded, slightly taken aback at the fact he knew you were one big walking ache right now.

The male hummed, having confirmed his suspicions. He turned slowly back to the pot that had miraculously managed to stay in one piece on the stove above a flame. From what you could tell it was some sort of stew, and the mere thought even without the smell beginning to brush your nostrils was enough to have you salivating slightly.

"It is almost done," he spoke once more, the low register of his voice bringing a slight flush across your cheeks as it brushed your ears through the silence. You sincerely hoped your face didn't betray your state of fluster. His gaze flickered to the floor for a moment, before continuing up to meet your own; the cocoa and amber mix of his iris was enough to make your heart flutter momentarily, the sunlight filtering through the windows illuminating them so prettily you almost let out a sigh in appreciation. "I have to apologise in advance; I'm not a very good cook."

You couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "I'm sure you're an excellent cook," you said, a sheepish laugh escaping you as your stomach growled in anticipation. "But I'm so hungry that I'd eat anything you put in front of me without complaint anyway."

Namjoon allowed a smile of his own to spread across his face at your words, cheeks flushing just enough to bring your attention to the dimples now making their home there. His head tilted and his expression shifted as something crossed his mind.

"I'll hope for both of our sakes that it's at least edible then," he mused, dark lashes fluttering as he peered at you as though he was trying to decipher something. It took him a few seconds to continue, "You know... you're quite nice. Humans possess such duality, it's quite startling."

It took you a moment to realise that he wasn't making a comment solely on your character, but on your kindness compared to the cruelty of the humans that had shot at him for his wings. You nodded, since he was right. Humanity was multi-faceted in that way, and a lot of the faces you wished to never see.

"You're right," you responded after a moment, the ghost of a smile tugging your lips. "A large portion of humanity is... yeah."

Despite your inability to find the word you wanted, Namjoon seemed to understand you just fine. He hummed, before his nose wrinkled and he turned quickly back to the pot; your heart nearly leapt from your chest as his wing narrowly missed a jar on the way.

"Ah, it's ready," he murmured, whether to himself or the both of you, you didn't know. He turned though, taking one bowl from the bench and holding his hand out to you— you hadn't even realised you'd still been holding the bowl you caught, and hurried to pass it to him with a warm face. He sent you a thankful smile and went about serving the stew. "Here you go, eat up. I apologise again if it's not that great in taste, but it should help with the pain and healing of your muscles."

You took the bowl and spoon when offered to you, and followed the male to sit on the floor at the table. Contrary to what he insisted, you found the second the first mouthful graced your tongue that it was delicious. You were quick to tell him so, and the winged deity had spent the remainder of the meal with a shy smile and flushed cheeks. You were quick to devour your portion, resisting the urge to go for seconds since you knew that was your tongue talking and not your stomach which, admittedly, was quite full.

After thanking him profusely for the meal, your attention was drawn back to his wounds and the bandages covering them, courtesy of yourself. He might have been able to treat the one on his side himself, as he seemed quite capable of healing himself somewhat if his decent recovery from the metal poisoning was anything to go by, but since you were already intent on changing the wrap on his wing you may as well change them all while you were at it. The male blushed when you mentioned it, and after placing your bowls back in the kitchen area moved over to the other side of the large, open space with cushions; the long, raven feathers at the bottom of his wings brushed the floor heavily when he sat, and you were careful not to step or sit on them when you returned after getting more materials from the washroom.

"So," you began as your fingers grasped the material of the bandage and tugged it loose gently. The male flinched slightly, but didn't let out a noise besides the hum of acknowledgement he made at your speech. "If you're a deity... shouldn't you have, like, super quick healing?"

The winged man seated before you snorted softly, and you refused the blush that tried to colour your cheeks. His wings shuffled, adjusting softly, before they settled and allowed you to continue your movements. His voice was slightly thick and strained as he spoke, and you gathered that his wings, aside from being hurt, were probably a very sensitive area for him. You did your best to be careful.

"I do," he answered you, the barest hints of amusement curling in his tone. "But being poisoned... slows it down a fair bit. I'm not sure how long it will take for my side to heal and my wing to mend after being poisoned like that."

You hummed in understanding, pondering what to say next when he shifted awkwardly and continued.

"And... about that," you heard him gulp, and a mixture of curiosity and trepidation fluttered within you. He sounded slightly regretful as he spoke, "I'm not sure if you're aware, but when you agreed to help me last night, you entered a deal."

Your hands stilled in their movements, mind blank for a moment before kicking back into gear. Actually, considering what he was... that made sense. You got the feeling his definition of a deal was a little more serious than yours. You let out your breath at once, an oddly calm feeling of acceptance washing over you.

"What does a deal entail, when it is made with you?" you asked, fingers returning to their previous tasks. Namjoon let out a slightly surprised noise and you presumed it was because of the way you'd worded the question.

"In essence, we are both bound to fulfil our ends of the deal," he responded, toned back shifting as he shivered slightly. "So you are to 'help' me as you've agreed, and I am to guide you from the mountain once your end is complete. I've not ever been faced with the consequences of breaking a deal like this, but I have heard from fellow deities that it is not... pleasant."

You hummed softly to acknowledge you'd heard him, while allowing the words to soak in. So really, what he was telling you was that you were stuck her 'helping' him, which in this case you took to mean healing him, until he was as good as before, at which point he would guide you down the mountain and back to your hotel. The hotel where your friends were, probably worried sick about you at this point. A sudden, alarming thought rose to the forefront of your mind at that realisation.

"My friends," you started, clearing your throat when you voice caught slightly in your throat. "They're back in the village at the bottom of the mountain. I'm worried about one of them, he split from me in the dark just before I found you."

"What is his name?" you were surprised at the question, but answered nonetheless. A few moments of silence echoed after you supplied Minhyuk's name, Namjoon taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "He is safe, do not worry. No one on this island has come to any harm in the past day— I don't sense him on the mountain or in the forest."

You let out a breath of relief you hadn't even realised you'd been holding, hands resuming their distracted grooming of his feathers before you applied the next wrap. "Can I..."

You didn't need to finish for him to know what you meant. He was apologetic when he next spoke, "I do not think the garden walls will let you pass until your end is fulfilled."

Disappointment was fresh in your lungs, but you understood. Plus, a small part of you was actually relieved— you hated leaving things half done, and at least now you'd know for sure how he healed.

You let out a sigh, hating how dramatic it sounded. "That's fine. I did agree to help, and I'll be glad to know you're healing."

You couldn't see his face, but from the way the tips of his ears began to burn pink you guessed that your words had made him blush. The thought made a soft smile tug your lips.

Surprisingly, you didn't really mind the idea of being here with the winged man until he was completely healed. Even more surprisingly, you could have sworn a small part of you was even looking forward to it.

— masterlist | moodboard || un | deux

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shookethbrooketh · 5 years

Text

seven days

day five

summary: dan is stuck in the wrong timeline. one day, he kisses phil goodnight. the next morning, he’s completely alone. he doesn’t even recognize where he wakes up, and little details in the world around him have changed. he has no clue what’s happening or where to go next in an effort to fix it; all he knows is that he has to find phil.

genre: sci-fi, a lil bit of angst, happy ending

warnings: just some swearing!

fic word count: 13.6k chapter word count: 3.3k

written for the @phandomreversebang ! inspired by the awesome moodboard/edits by @maybeformepersonally ! beta’d (beginning to end) by @i-might-just-leave-soon !

dan clambered to his feet and made his way to the door. he walked slowly and emotionlessly back to the flower shop and into its adjacent flat, where he flopped back down onto the same couch he woke up on. he hadn’t even anything to process; he knew exactly what he had to do. he had to wait - for another day, for another trope, for another phil.

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Dan woke up in his bunk and attempted to stretch his arms, but, as usual, there was no space. Why did he and Phil choose to sleep in stupid, tiny bunks instead of the master bed?

The movement of the tour bus was soothing to Dan; he couldn’t quite remember what had happened, but he felt as if he’d had a long, terrible dream. He tore open the curtain to his bunk and carefully slid out so as to not hit his head, but as soon as his feet hit the floor he could tell he wasn’t in his tour bus at all.

Everything came flooding back to him; Interactive Introverts had ended nearly a year earlier, yet simultaneously it hadn’t happened at all, and in this universe it never would. Dan certainly was in a tour bus, but it wasn’t the II bus, and it certainly wasn’t 2018.

“Shit,” he heard from a bunk to the right of his. “I’ve really got to get used to that.” A body fell out of the bunk with absolutely no grace, and the man appearing before Dan barely managed to land feet first. He was rubbing the back of his blonde-haired head, and Dan could tell he was suffering a pain all too familiar: he’d hit his head on the bunk. “G’mornin’, Dan.”

Dan was taken aback for a moment by the fact that the man knew his name even though they’d never met, but within a few seconds he’d adjusted and shot back, “Morning.”

Dan sat down at the mini table in the bus’s “kitchen” and began mapping out his conversation. He’d learned to be quite careful conversing with people in odd timelines; if he arose too much suspicion, it could affect his ability to find Phil later in the day. He had to figure out what he needed to know to get by in this universe, and quick.

“So where are we going today again?” Dan asked nonchalantly. He was lucky in this particular timeline; he’d obviously had experience on tour, so he at least knew what that portion was like. He just needed the details.

“Detroit,” the man said, lighting a cigarette. Dan struggled not to cough. What kind of a tour bus was this? “Want one?” he asked, noticing Dan eyeing the stick of death.

“No thanks,” he answered, and the other man raised an eyebrow but let it go quickly.

“We’ll be rolling up in a few hours. You’re on opening act today,” he said, and Dan was immediately filled with fear and confusion.

“I’M opening?” Dan blurted out. He wasn’t a musician. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even know that this was a musician’s tour. Who was he?

“I know it’s your first show on this rotation, but you’ll be fine. All you’ve gotta do is make sure the opening act gets in and set up alright. You’ll have help.” He paused to blow smoke directly in Dan’s face. “Roadie code.”

Dan wasn’t sure what ‘roadie code’ was, but all he could do in that moment was attempt to get out of the smoke cloud that was billowing in his direction. As soon as he could breathe, his focus turned quickly to trying to decipher what he was being told. He was a roadie, or at least that was what he had deduced. His duty for the day was to make sure everything ran smoothly for the opening act of this show, which worried him given that opening acts were about the only thing that he hadn’t experienced from his time on tour. However, he had other priorities.

“Who’s the opening act?” Dan asked.

“Some guy called Phil Lester. He’s another emo dude.”

Bingo.

Dan was completely mentally prepared when the bus arrived at the venue a few hours later. He’d been rehearsing in his head what he was going to say to Phil as much as he could from the moment he’d gotten there, and it was finally time to put it into action.

His head drifted off topic for a moment as he got off the bus and started unloading. He noticed that the venue was the same one he and Phil had been to when they went to Detroit for TATINOF, and he couldn’t help but take a moment to reminisce. Things had been so good then; their tour was beginning to look up from its original controversy, their relationship was as strong as ever, and, most importantly, they were together. The place held good memories for Dan, and he couldn’t help but hope it would hold good omens for him and the Phil of its universe.

“Here’s your crew,” the guy Dan had been talking to earlier said once they’d gotten inside. By then he’d learned that his name was Tommy, and he was the head roadie for the tour. Behind him were about five crew members from the venue. He recognized only one of them, which didn’t surprise him since it was ten years in the past, but it did remind him that he’d had an odd feeling of deja vu when he first saw her in 2016. Having his deja vu validated almost sent him into an existential crisis, but he repressed his thoughts; he had business to attend to.

“Awesome, thanks,” Dan finally replied. Tommy walked away and Dan turned to the crew. “Do you guys know where Phil is?”

“He’s in his dressing room. It’s down the hall, and it’s labeled ‘opener’,” responded someone with an emo haircut Dan had to remind himself was completely normal. He nodded, muttering something about setting up speakers as he disappeared in the direction the crew member was pointing.

His heart pounded as he came up to the door and knocked. Phil opened the door almost immediately, and Dan quickly discovered that Tommy was right about his emo act. He was dressed in almost complete black, and he seemed to have embraced his messy fringe to a point where Dan, with his 2019 brain, could barely handle looking at it.

“Are you the one in charge of getting me set up?” he asked immediately, radiating edgy, careless energy.

Dan was completely frozen out of shock; he’d had his plan all laid out, and Phil had immediately changed it. “Yeah, I-” he eventually stuttered out, but Phil cut him off before he could even begin to figure out what he was going to say next.

“Wonderful, let’s go.” Phil pushed right past him, and he was somehow rendered even more speechless than before. This Phil was not going to be easy to convince.

Dan followed as closely behind as he could, practically falling over himself as he trailed after Phil to the stage. The crew was already working efficiently to set everything up, and Phil stepped up to the microphone as if he owned the stage.

“We ready?” he asked, assuming a powerful stance; he truly practiced like he would perform.

Someone in a distant sound box gave him a thumbs up and started playing a track. “Where’s the backup?” he shouted.

From the gathering of the crew offstage, Dan heard a “they’ll be here a bit before the show!” Phil dramatically rolled his eyes and started singing to the recording. This clearly was a Phil completely unlike the one he knew.

The situation, however, was completely familiar to Dan. Having been on tour twice, he was more than used to a simple sound check. Phil seemed to prefer to jump straight into his songs while some of the crew was still setting up the main act’s equipment behind him, but Dan couldn’t help but appreciate the style just a bit. A quick rehearsal before a show was a refreshing, far from foreign concept in the foreign world he was living in.

After Phil had finished up, he took off back to his dressing room before Dan could even attempt to speak to him. He tried to prepare himself again before heading back down the hallway, but he was almost immediately interrupted. “Dan!”

He turned to see Tommy with the members of the band they’d been traveling with. Dan hadn’t heard of them, so he assumed it was a difference in the timelines, but they seemed to be a slightly different version of My Chemical Romance.

“Can you help me on security?”

“Security already?” asked, dumbfounded by the fact that warmups were just starting and they already needed security.

“A few fans are starting to get lined up; someone just needs to keep them in order. I’ll come get you off once we get through rehearsal, I promise. You’ll be back in time to cover opening rehearsal with the band.”

Dan sighed and responded, failing to hide his dejected tone. “Where do I need to go?”

By the time he’d been relieved from security duty, Dan had become completely aware of how much of a pain 2009 was. Despite his complete awareness that he was the exact same way, he couldn’t help but be dreadfully annoyed by the lines and lines of emo teenagers giving him flashbacks to times he didn’t particularly want to remember. Everything they said and did were completely reflective of what the culture used to be like, and it almost infuriated him to know that they had no idea how “cringe” they would consider their behavior to be in the future. That would be true of any point in a cultural timeline, but Dan could still barely handle living in the past with knowledge of the future.

Even worse, he had no way of telling time. Apparently a young roadie in 2009 didn’t carry a cell phone. Either that or Dan had left it on the bus. Regardless, he was driven nearly mad just by standing there waiting for someone to free him from this job and hoping and praying that he’d be able to talk to Phil before the show. If there was one thing Dan knew about performing, it was that once you perform, you leave. There was nothing better than a post-show tour bus sleep.

Finally, after what Dan could only assume by the movements of the sun was about an hour, Tommy came back with real venue security guards, and Dan was gone before they could even say a word. He had one thing on his mind, and that was getting to Phil’s dressing room.

This time, when he knocked on the door, Phil took slightly longer to answer. When he did open the door, he emerged with black eyeliner caked onto only one of his eyes. “You certainly seem to be interested in me this evening,” Phil said, continuing to apply eyeliner in front of him.

Dan had no idea what to say. All he could think was that he truly was in a fanfiction trope.

“I’m joking….obviously….” he trailed off, and Dan almost wanted to throw up in his mouth. Why did his journey through time have to be so cliche?

“Band’s here!” came a call from down the hall. Dan’s fists clenched up at his sides; he was quickly running out of time.

Dan walked awkwardly beside Phil to the stage, not daring to say anything at all after the ‘conversation’ they’d just had. It really wasn’t much of a conversation at all, but there wasn’t anything else he could call it.

Dan waited anxiously as the rehearsal went on, but he did enjoy watching; Phil seemed to be completely in his element performing with a band. Dan knew he had the whole science thing going, but he couldn’t help but hope this universe’s Phil would eventually make it big as a musician. In reality, his genre wouldn’t last long, but maybe he’d be like Brendon Urie and Fall Out Boy and evolve--or devolve, depending on the way you look at it.

Suddenly, rehearsal was over, and Dan didn’t even realize he’d drifted off into his own thoughts. It shocked him, given how focused he’d been earlier on his goal of trying to get information from Phil. Even he had become entranced by the appeal of the day’s trope. They do have a way of getting to you.

“Can I talk to you in your dressing room for a moment?” The words fell out of Dan’s mouth more than he spoke them. Nerves were beginning to creep back up; it was now or never.

“By all means,” Phil replied with a cool smirk. Dan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at himself for falling a bit for this Phil.

He followed Phil back to his dressing room like a terrified teenager who’d never kissed anyone before. When they reached the room, Phil held the door open for Dan, who went in and took a seat on the couch. The dressing room was nice, but it was nowhere near as nice as the one he and Phil had been in when they’d come to this venue. To be fair, seven years did tend to make a difference.

“So,” Phil said, running his hand through his hair and sitting down beside Dan, “what do you want to talk about?” He put a bit too much emphasis on the word talk for Dan’s taste.

Dan took a deep breath. Phil was sitting in such a manner that Dan knew he wanted to make out with him; Dan, however, had drastically different goals. Why was it that every time he needed information out of a Phil he had to ruin a perfectly good trope in doing it?

“I’m a time traveler.”

Phil took a moment to process this. Dan could recognize it as the same thoughts he went through when Phil first spoke to him; he’d had perfectly good plans in place, and what Dan said not only completely ruined them but probably also thoroughly confused him, at least at first.

“What year?”

“2019. I jumped around 2019 timelines for a few days and then got transported back to here. This is my second day in 2009.”

“Wow,” Phil said, clearly intrigued, “what’s it like?”

“It’s… good?” Dan said, a bit aggravated that they weren’t making better progress. “This entire thing goes out of style pretty soon, though,” he added, gesturing to Phil’s whole body. “But that doesn’t matter. You do this sort of science, don’t you? I know you’re nowhere near actual time travel, but you’re starting studies on the subject, are you not?”

Phil nodded. “You know about the Phils. You definitely are getting along well in your journey.” He stood up and walked over to a desk on the other side of the room and picked up a pad of paper and a pen; he seemed to have been drawing earlier. “What do you know?”

Dan’s entire story came spilling out almost uncontrollably. He truly hadn’t been able to vent to anyone the way he had to Phil, and it was just as relieving to him as it was helpful to Phil.

“That’s my story, I guess,” he ended, taking a deep breath and making eye contact with Phil, who had been taking some notes.

“I suppose it does make sense that this entire thing was a trope. That’s probably one of the simplest ways to explain how attracted I was to you having barely even spoken to you.” Dan wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, so he just let Phil keep talking. “I have so many questions, mainly about the clear cultural differences that I can feel between us just from the way you spoke in your story and different things that you spoke of, but I doubt we have time to discuss anything like that. What matters is that we figure out how to get you home, back to your Phil.”

“As much as I’d love to explain fanfiction culture to you, I wholeheartedly agree.”

“Well, I can assume that your Phil is probably making efforts to look for you. He’s certainly realized something’s wrong with whatever Dan is in your universe right now.” Dan gulped; he hadn’t considered that there was another Dan currently with his Phil. It almost made him feel jealous. “The last Phil you met was right; there’s probably also another 2019 Phil in this universe somewhere. I’m not completely sure how you’d find him, but he’s probably the only one who knows enough to get you home.”

“But what do you know?” Dan asked, anxious to get to the point. Phil mentioning the lack of time for discussion suddenly made Dan quite aware that Phil had a show to open for any moment.

“Based off my research so far and what you’ve told me, I can make a couple calculations, but I definitely won’t be able to explain anything to you. I’ll just hand you a paper that you probably won’t be able to read, and you’ll have to show it to the next Phil. Keep it on you and hopefully it’ll come with you into the next timeline. I’ll work on all that after I perform--shit, the performance!”

Phil jumped up and ran to check a watch sitting on the desk. “I’m on in five!” he exclaimed, rushing for the door. “Let’s go!”

Dan and Phil rushed down the hall and backstage, where Phil got ready to go on. Dan tried to calm himself back into normal life, but it was difficult when normal life didn’t really seem to exist. All he could do for the time being was enjoy Phil’s music, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy Phil’s music.

He and Phil smiled at each other both as Phil went on and off the stage, and Phil disappeared quickly back into his dressing room to work on the calculations. Dan had nothing left to do but sit backstage and watch the rest of the concert.

When the band finally wrapped up, the entire crew immediately started moving, and Dan quickly joined in. “Dan, what are you doing?” he heard Tommy ask. “C’mon, you know we’re on band security getting out of here. Everyone else will get the stuff out just fine, even if we’re stuck here awhile. They’re slow, but they’re good.”

Dan bit his lip and walked out with Tommy and the band. He exhaled as he walked past Phil’s dressing room, trying to nonchalantly hit the door a bit in passing. He hoped Phil would notice; if he didn’t, Dan would be completely and utterly screwed.

They got out to the bus, and there was still no sign of Phil. The crew was beginning to get all the things outside and pack them underneath the bus; if Phil didn’t arrive soon, they’d have to leave without the paper.

“I’m going to go help them load,” Dan said, rushing off the bus before Tommy could comment on his obviously strange behavior. Dan quickly regretted his decision, as him helping sped up their process, and they were done loading within a few minutes.

“Let’s roll out,” someone said. The crew went back into the venue, and the rest of the roadies got on the bus. Dan furrowed his brow; he’d run out of time.

“Dan!” he heard, and his head turned faster than he could even register. A deep sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he saw Phil sprinting across the parking lot. Dan ran out to meet him, and when they finally met, Phil rested a hand on Dan’s shoulder to catch his breath.

He took Dan’s hand and placed the paper in it before taking a step back. “Good luck, Howell.”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #seven days #dong and ping

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