#i’m gonna be so sad when i play next time and neither them nor their house will be in game :((

[ultra-art-blog]

Skyward Sword has my whole heart 🩷

[moonlight404-translates]

A3! Izumida Azami | SR - my dear friend | Translation

Quote: “I’m gonna spend some time with the robot dog first. Microraptor feels so long. So its name will be Mictor."

Special thanks to my friends for helping me with ideas for some lines  (´｡• ᵕ •｡`).

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Disclaimer: Neither English nor Japanese is my native language, but I did my best with the translation. If you find any mistakes, feel free to mention it. By the way, Director’s name will be Izumi.

My Pet Dog Mictor / 1

Izumi: Coming~ Deliveryman: We have a package for you. It’s pretty big. Should I leave it here? Izumi: Ah, sure, this is— Azami: Sorry, Director. That seems to be mine. I’ll take care of it. Izumi: Oh, Azami-kun. Did you order a package? Azami: Uh-huh. …Yeah, I knew it. Azami: Thank you. Deliveryman: At your service!

Izumi: You knew very well it was yours. Azami: It was set to come today, after all. Izumi: What did you order? Azami: This. An AIDO. Izumi: Ah, the famous robot dog. …Wait, you bought one?! Azami: No, I rented. There’s a site that lets you borrow it for a week. Izumi: So you can rent it too, huh. Is this part of your role study for your next performance? Azami: Yeah. I play an android whose friend was a dog that passed away. The sadness he felt made him fall into a slumber. Azami: And wakes up thanks to a robot dog. However, I couldn’t get the idea of it. Izumi: I see. So that’s why you rented an AIDO. Azami: Yeah. I think I should make it move first. Azami: “AIDO needs a name to recognize you as its owner. Give it a name in the indicated application”. Azami: …That’s what it says, but I don’t know what name to give a robot dog. Izumi: Since this is for your role study, I think a name from something you’re fond of can be a good call. Azami: I get what you mean. In that case… Azami: Mictor. Mictor: Woof! Izumi: Mictor? Azami: …Well, microraptor is so long. Izumi: Ahaha. So it comes from Azami’s favorite dinosaur. Izumi: Oh! This says the switch isn’t the only way to turn it on or off. If you call it by its designed name, it will start to move. Azami: Heh, let’s try out. Now that I turned it off… Mictor. Mictor: Woof! Azami: It really worked. That’s convenient—. Mictor: Woof! Woof! Azami: Hey, don’t move around so suddenly! That’s a wall… wait, you’ll bump into the sofa! Mictor: Woof?! *whimper* Azami: Sigh, are you okay? Why is it roaming like that? Izumi: The manual says it will walk around the room the first time to learn its composition. Azami: Is that so? Okay, but be careful. Azami: We’ll be together for a week. It’s a pleasure. Mictor: … Azami: It didn’t answer when I stroked its head. Maybe because it’s a robot… Izumi: Why don’t you say its name while doing it to get a response? Azami: Ah, I see. Let’s get along during this week, Mictor. Mictor: Woof! Azami: You were right. Izumi: So you can only rent the robot dog for a week. Azami: Yeah, it’s like a trial version. Azami: I will need this box and cardboard to send it back later. Can I leave them in this corner? Izumi: Sure. Azami: Thank you.

Azami: Okay, you’ve learned to shake paws and sit, so next is… Azami: Bang! Mictor: *whimper* Azami: You got that too. There, there, good boy.      - Unknown sound - Azami: Mhm? What was that sound just now? Mictor: ? Azami: …It might just be my imagination. Azami: Here is a prize for you. It’s a bone toy. Mictor: Arf, arf! *whine* Azami: Hey, are you saying you’re happy, or do you want me to pet you? Pick one.      - Unknown sound - Azami: I heard it again. What’s making it…?  Izumi: Azami-kun, dinner is ready. Azami: Ah, it’s already time for that. I’m coming. Azami: …It’s a bit sad to leave you here. Wanna come with me, Mictor? Mictor: Woof! Izumi: Wow, it’s following you! Azami: It’s like Director said before. It will hear you if you call it within its calling range. Azami: Right, Mictor? Mictor: Woof!

My Pet Dog Mictor / 2

Mictor: *whine*! Azami: Looks like you really liked that bone. Juza: It’s a robot, yet it’s that fond of it… Taichi: Just like a real dog! Banri: It must be true if our doggie says it. Taichi: Are you talking about me?! Omi: How you look after it feels more like a friend than an owner. Izumi: That means his role study is working. After all, Azami’s role gets attached to a robot dog and wakes up from his slumber. Sakyo: I can see that. He has been teaching it tricks and looking after it in our room. You like it too, ain’t that right, Bou? Azami: …I guess. I rented it as part of my role study, so I might as well spend as much time as possible with it. Azami: It’s only here for a week too. Omi: Oh, when do you have to send it back? Azami: The day after tomorrow. Izumi: I can’t believe it’s almost time for it. Time flies by so fast. Banri: But won’t you be sad when you send it back? Azami: Hah? ‘course no. Sakyo: You don’t want to be honest, huh? Azami: Shut up! Didn’t you hear I said I won’t? Mictor: Grrrr… Banri: Oh, what’s this? A threat? Omi: It’s growling toward Banri and Sakyo-san. Juza: Did it get that Azami was angry…? Taichi: It got angry because A-chan was angry. So cool! Azami: Hey, Mictor, that’s enough… Mictor: *whine*... Izumi: Yeah. It seems to understand and respond to Azami-kun’s feelings. Banri: Really? Sakyo: Robotic technology can reach that far…? Azami: There, there, good boy. 

Izumi: Azami-kun! You’re sending back Mictor today, right? Azami: Yeah. I’m about to reset it to put it in the box. Izumi: Have you downloaded the photos yet? I want to see what kind of photos Mictor took. Azami: Huh? Photos? Izumi: Eh, you didn’t know it, Azami-kun?! Good thing I told you now…! Izumi: Well, you see. AIDO comes with a camera in its nose and takes photos every day. Azami: I see, so the sound I heard from time to time… Izumi: I think the photos are in the application. Why don’t you check them? Azami: On it. Izumi: Ah, look, there they are! You have a sleepy face in this one. Azami: Uwah, what’s up with that?! Izumi: You got along so well that you even slept together. Azami: That’s not true. It was just because yesterday was its last night here, and it was trying to come to the futon….!  Izumi: Fufu, okay, I get it. Azami: Since this one is the latest, they might be in chronological order. Sigh, there won’t be more weird photos, right? Azami: This one is when I got mad with Sakyo and Banri-san. And this one is when I taught it to shake paws—. Azami: This was when it was walking around the room for the first time… Azami: Pff… I panicked so bad back there, huh? Azami: … Izumi: Azami-kun… Azami: …It’s nothing. Forget it.

Choice 1: You’re feeling sad. 

Izumi: It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? Hey, now that I think of it, I’ve watched it with you since the first time you gave this little one a name. Azami: Yeah, you even receive the pack first, Director. Azami: A week has passed since then. It felt so short… Izumi: Still, Mictor took some great photos of you, Azami-kun! So even if the time was short, the memories will persist for long. Azami: …Well, I guess they came out good. Azami: You were a great cameraman, weren’t you, Mictor? 

Choice 2: It was adorable, wasn’t it? 

Izumi: You were so adorable, Mictor. It was like that, especially when playing with you, Azami-kun. Azami: You’re right. It makes me feel more nostalgic than I thought. This one really liked to be pampered—. Azami: Wait, no. Robots don’t have personalities. Izumi: That’s not completely true. AIDO’s personality and quirks can change depending on how the owner treats it. Izumi: So Mictor might have been like that because you were quite fond of it, Azami-kun. Azami: Well, I could get attached to Mictor thanks to you, Director. …I think this was a good week.

Azami: Okay, the photos are downloaded. Thanks, Director. Azami: …Then, time to reset it. I think I have to do it from the application. Izumi: The screen says “Reset completed. Please try to call its name to make sure it doesn’t move”… Azami: …Mictor. Robot dog: … Izumi: It seems like the reset worked. Azami: Yeah. …Thanks for this week. Azami: At first, I thought it was only a robot, yet it made me feel so many emotions during this week—. Azami: I’ve come to understand my android role feelings, so I think I can use them for the performance. Izumi: I see. I’m glad that’s the case. Azami: (Until we meet again, Mictor.)

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

Notes: Azami’s name for the robot dog comes from ミクロラプトル (ミクトル = Mikutoru), so following the same formula in English Microraptor (Mictor).

Was it worth to use all my gems to get this card back then? Yes. Yes, it was. I love this backstage so much (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

[thefinalboss387]

Okay so I am currently watching through Black Sails for the first time and

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOOOOOVE THEIR PORTRAYAL OF EDWARD “BLACKBEARD” TEACH

Gonna explain why under the cut. And also ask some questions that people who know a lot about pirates and/or are familiar with other great pirate shows/movies can hopefully answer for me!

Before I go any further, I want to preface everything by saying that I just finished season 4, episode 5 today. It’s my first time watching the show (so please don’t spoil anything beyond that episode for me), and so far I can happily say it is one of the best TV shows I’ve ever seen. I’m SO impressed with the layers and depth of the story, how literally EVERY action has consequences (even the ones you don’t expect), etc. This show has all the political intrigue and power dynamics of Game of Thrones, without the noticeable decline that show unfortunately had. Season 4 has been AMAZING so far and I don’t expect the next half of the season to disappoint me. I’m genuinely starting to get a little sad that I’m so close to the end, because... NOW WHAT???

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE SHOW UP TO SEASON 4 EPISODE 5

My only real experience with pirate fiction or history at all before this show was really Pirates of the Caribbean and Peter Pan. Even Treasure Island I’m largely unfamiliar with - I remember watching the Muppet version as a kid, I loved Treasure Planet but admittedly haven’t seen it in decades, and I barely remember either version, but yeah. I was recently in a pirate mood after that new Peter Pan movie came out on Disney+, Googled recommendations for a good pirate show, and Black Sails was the top of that list. And BOY am I glad I gave it a shot!!!

In particular, I found myself REALLY drawn to the character of Blackbeard. He showed up pretty late in the story so obviously I have a lot of other favorites as well, but he won me over VERY quickly. I’m at a point in my watch through where Teach is now dead, and unless he keeps coming back in Miranda-style visions (doubtful), I thiiiiink I’ve seen his entire story and am at a place where I can comfortably talk about his character arc?

Honestly, my only complaint is that I wish we saw more of him. He only ultimately shows up for like maybe 10 episodes, but MAN what a presence he brought with him!! As soon as he first showed up in that cabin being confronted by his ex-wife’s angry family, I was excited. He was played by the late RAY STEVENSON!!! I’ve only seen that particular actor in one other role, but he was my favorite Dexter villain BY FAR, so I knew he’d kill the role. I’m also super excited to see him in the upcoming Ahsoka show, but that’s neither here nor there lol. I feel like Teach’s overall lack of screentime hurts his chances of landing himself in my “favorite characters of all time” list, but I need time to digest the show for a bit before I decide on things like that. Because in the limited time we DO get with him, he hits all the right buttons for me!

I know Blackbeard is a super-famous real life pirate, and that he shows up a lot in popular fiction, but the only real knowledge I have of the man is what we saw in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. His portrayal in that movie was.... fine? I didn’t dislike him, but he definitely didn’t impress me either. He was a serviceable villain in a franchise that has had way better and more effective villains.

I work with kids, I serve as a mentor figure to them, and honestly my mission is to be the adult I wished I had in my life when I was a kid. Mentor/mentee, parent/child, “found family” relationships are something I LOVE to explore in fiction. Since I also tend to love villains, a lot of my FAVORITE fictional characters of all time are villains that explore a more toxic, dark side of those mentor relationships.

What I love about this portrayal of Blackbeard, primarily, is his relationship with Charles Vane. Despite how dangerous and arguably toxic both men are, their relationship was surprisingly sweet.

Blackbeard is a SCARY dude, and he very quickly establishes himself and makes it clear that he hates how soft and docile pirate society has become in his absence, and immediately goes about building a crew of hardened badasses that violently prove their worth to him. Yet, everything about his relationship with Vane is empathetic, understanding, and gentle.

Now, obviously, Vane is one of the most hardened and badass characters in the show. It’s easy to see why someone like Blackbeard would take a liking to someone like Vane. He grows to see Vane as a son, and despite the betrayals Vane puts him through, Teach never holds it against him, never lifts a finger to harm him, and even passionately seeks to avenge his death after the fact. His absence for literally half of the show’s run is because Vane betrayed him and exiled him, and in his words, he left because he would’ve had to kill Vane if he stayed.

He reveals, privately, to his lover that he is slowly dying from shrapnel in his chest, and wants to cement a legacy for himself through Vane - a fact that he never actually TELLS Vane or anyone else because he doesn’t want to manipulate or guilt him. Everything about Teach’s motivations revolved around Vane. But even beyond that, he grows something of a mentor-y dynamic with Jack Rackham after Vane’s death, and it’s implied that he took Israel Hands under his wing before Vane. He is entirely driven by his need for a son, even if that son is not biological -- after Vane’s betrayal, he laments that only God makes sons. As someone who also really wants to be a parent, and has a lot of mentor relationships instead, I really relate to that sentiment and feel the heartbreak behind it.

I genuinely love his style. A brilliant tactician, yet so ruthless and violent in a fight. I loved that he would be sword fighting people, only to randomly pull out a gun and shoot his opponents in the face. I loved his death scene and his utter defiance right until the very end. He wasn’t looking to make a statement, or inspire a riot, he just wanted to fuck with his murderer and ruin his moment.

So, I have a question for the pirate enthusiasts out there. How accurate is this version of Teach? Did he have this tendency to take people under his wing and mentor them despite his ferocity? Are there other fictional portrayals of him out there that have that quality to him? Even in Pirates of the Caribbean, he was pretty notable for the relationship he had with Angelica, who may or may not have been his daughter, but how genuine and caring that relationship was is left pretty ambiguous from both sides.

Either way, Black Sails is really sparking my interest in pirates in general! I recently purchased Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag on Steam, and plan to play that very soon. I went and downloaded the shows Crossbones and Our Flag Means Death, but haven’t started watching them yet. I downloaded the anime One Piece, but am unsure when/if I want to watch it because holy crap it’s a huge commitment haha. It also occurs to me that I should probably read/watch Treasure Island, but I am fully aware that the pirate characters are two-dimensional villains without any of the complexity or nuance of Black Sails, so that’s disappointing. I know almost nothing about any of those above shows/anime/movies/games though so I’m in for a ride!!

But, my pirate enthusiast friends, another question: Any other great pirate media out there I should go consume?? I already know I’m going to miss this show when it’s over so I’m already starting to look for the next thing to watch to keep myself busy!

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 6- Part 3

Through this corner and up this hallway we go, aaand here we’ve got some more Grunts!

It’s more likely than you think!

Alright, this isn’t so bad- Riptide can handle Aron pretty easily. Water Gun time, baby!

Heck yeah. Well- not for Budew, both Aron and Zubat have been ganging up on it, very sad. Anyways, back to attacking-

Hm- Riptide’s not doing as much damage to Zubat as I’d like, not to mention he just got a level-up…so you know what? I’ll switch into Whiskers, she’s got Zen Headbutt anyways.

Speaking of switching, uh…

You know what? Sandile’s a much better matchup against the Zubat than Budew. In fact, it’s such a better matchup that Sandile ends up stealing Whiskers’ kill with Bite!

Eh…a victory is a victory I guess, and Whiskers gets the exp. points either way.

Oh- his Sandile’s Ability is Moxie? That’ll be good to remember in the future.

You’re not allowed to do that punchline!! I already did it!!

Alright, so, continuing on up here, we kinda turn these corners, and then…

Hey, there’s an item up there! I don’t think we can go up to the second floor just yet, but when we do, I’ll have to remember to grab whatever that is.

AND THEN X HAD TO LEAVE TO TAKE CARE OF IRL STUFF.

SHE CAME BACK AFTER SEVERAL HOURS.

So, it is currently 9:30 PM as of the time of writing this. I could wait until tomorrow morning to continue on with this escapade, when I’m a little less tired, but I’d actually rather not do that, soooo…

(Future edit: Little did I know, I would have no choice but to put the rest of this play session off until the next day anyways, but I digress-)

Also, through the power of saving the game, I have discovered this location is called Mosswater Industrial! As I said before: YEAH DUDE, IT SURE IS!

Now, despite the fact that Ace told the Grunts to slow us down and we need to stop them from deleting all the data (I’m assuming), I…don’t think there’s an actual time constraint? Like, Fern didn’t say anything like “we need to get up there as soon as possible, we can’t waste time fighting everyone” or something, and there’s no indication of a legit time limit, so like…I don’t think there’s a penalty to fighting all the Grunts we come across.

In other words, despite the fact that we went around these two, we’re gonna beat them up anyways.

Alright, what have we here…I don’t think we have anything that’s specifically good against either of these, but Streak can still hold his own. And we can start that with Tail Whip, which will lower both Rattata and Lillipup’s Defenses at the same time! 

This’ll be useful not just for Streak, but for Fern’s Sandile as well because uuuuuh…well, Budew got knocked out again. RIP, I guess.

So, neither Streak nor Sandile are super great against these two, but they’re still doing…something. I’m having Streak focus on Lillipup for the time being-

Which worked out very well! Now these two can just focus on the Rattata and win the battle, which also works out well enough- ignore Streak’s HP, he’s fine.

Can’t believe Xera and Fern are exterminators now- but given that was a bit of a running gag with a D&D campaign me and some friends did (lest we forget Slap Her Bald Head Sunday), I’m fine with carrying on the legacy in this playthrough.

And I was heading into the menu to check something, and I finally noticed something…

The party gets healed after every battle! I didn’t even notice that in the last few battles, but now that I do- great! That means I’ll have an easier time saving resources (namely those Potions) during this. My cheapskate arc in this game continues on apace!

Previous

Next

[codyjey]

SAPNAP LORE STREAM SPOILERS, SRSLY DON'T KEEP READING IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED

small CW for suicide

alright let's talk about this.

we start off with sapnap and george in the community house which in and of itself I find interesting. like do they just hang out there?

anyways, sapnap says he hasn't seen quackity in forever. that he wants to know where he's at. saying last time he saw him was in like, el rapids. george says practically nothing (a theme you'll find the whole way through this stream) which is strange considering he HAS seen quackity recently . and he knows where he is (maybe not directly) . but perhaps he thinks that was a dream and doesn't want to misinform sapnap? who knows.

they go to el rapids looking for quackity, and find mexican dream crying instead and a destroyed el rapids. sapnap assumes it was destroyed by dream, (because why would he think that? he has every right to believe it was him) and he tells that to mexican dream. they go visit the prison bc mexican dream is freaked out and wants dream dead, and a bunch of just stupid shit happens. also, during this bit I'd like to mention sapnap reiterates that he wants dream to stay in the prison, that he deserves to be in there. idk why I'm saying that I just think it's important to note for his character.

but then mexican dream remembers that QUACKITY destroyed el rapids. he relays that to them, and sapnap doesn't believe it. (once again, why would he?) george is dead silent the whole time. I have a feeling he can't tell if he's dreaming or not, hence why he was either silent, messing around, or not really caring.

back to sapnap tho, we go through this whole dumbass bit with mexican dream turning american and stuff and the whole time sapnap is just BEGGING him to take him to quackity. literally so desperate to find him, and neither mexican dream nor george cooperating. that is until mexican dream is towering up, about to take his own life, when he sees las nevadas in the distance.

the three of them walk to las nevadas and sapnap seems frantic and wants to make sure quackity is there, very very clearly wanting nothing more than to talk to him. but, mexican dream starts freaking out, being scared of quackity and las nevadas and sapnap sighs, taking him to kinoko.

sapnap tells him he will be safe in kinoko, and that he isn't going to let shit happen to that place. it's his home. he mentions how the community house was destroyed, and mexican dream asked who did it, wondering if it was quackity and saying he would kill him. sapnap says no, he was pretty sure it was dream who destroyed the community house, and promptly tries to move on. I won't ignore the little ".. what?" from george after he said that though. it just hit me in that moment that george doesn't know dream was the one to destroy the community house... can't imagine how he's handling that info. (espically considering he continued to be silent after that)

sapnap shows mexican dream to a place he can stay and swears to protect him and the land, but to no avail. mexican dream jumps, dying and logging out of the game. sapnap seems shocked for a second, but then he immediately softens. like he's numb. like he's used to the feeling of those around him just leaving. even when he gives his all to try and help. the stream ends with sapnap asking george to catch him as he jumps, and that's it.

sapnap wants to find quackity. he wants to find him and he misses him. I noticed he was avoiding calling quackity his fiance, and maybe this is just me over thinking or maybe he thinks quackity doesn't think of him like that anymore since they haven't seen each other in so long. but regardless of all that, he wants to find quackity and the next lore stream will be their confrontation. that is going to be a sad fucking mess and I cannot in anyway predict how it will end up. let alone how karl will play into all of this...

In conclusion, people who say sapnap doesn't care about quackity I'm gonna need you to shut the fuck up and use this stream as even further evidence that ur wrong. and at the end of the day, c! sapnap is still one of the most tragic characters and I cannot fucking wait for more.

[ceciliablossoms]

I just read the whiskey angst and i cried a bit 😭 can i request Fruit Punch + Absinthe after that the reader feel stressed and go for a walk outside but are attacked by Abiss Mages and seriously injured and Diluc / Childe / Kaeya is surprised when the reader return with a pathetic form but the reader don't want them to touch them pls 😭😭😭 REVERSE UNO

I genuinely wasn't expecting people to like that one enough to request a sequel. I originally had no intention of making a sequel but with so many people asking how can I not?

Haha.. I couldn't sleep again...

The Whiskey fic

TW: Mentions of Injury, Swearing, Self Hatred

Absinthe: “Get out of my sight! I don’t fucking want you here!”

Fruit Punch: “Why are you bleeding!? What the hell happened?!”

-------

Diluc

It had been several days since he had last seen them and honestly speaking the man was a mess. What he said hadn't fully sunk in until he finished his work and upon realising that he had made a severe error, a pit formed in his stomach.

He was extremely disgusted with himself. Nobody should ever talk to their significant other in such a way under any circumstances. Not only that but he had also called them a hindrance when they had only been trying to help him. Pathetic.

He ended up seeking them out, arriving at their small house in Mondstadt. He had approached their door as they were exiting their home. They visibly bristled.

As the days passed they wallowed less, sadness and dejection becoming anger. How DARE he have the AUDACITY to talk to them like that? To treat them as though they were holding him back?

“Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here!”

He didn't even flinch out their outburst. He deserved it, "I have... come to apologise for my actions. I-"

"Didn't mean it? Save your words. I don't wish to hear it." They pushed past him. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

He watched as they exited the gates, steam practically pouring from their ears. As much as he wished to apologise, craved to say that he was sorry, he was sure that they wouldn't have it. But, he sat on the stairs to their house regardless and waited for their return. Whether they would accept it or not he was still going to try to make amends.

He didn't know how long he sat there waiting but they still had yet to return. The worry had long set in, hitting its peak when there was a small commotion at the gate. They pushed past Swan, who was following after them in a panic.

They walked with a limp, blood seeping through the hand that clenched their shoulder tightly. A cut adorned their face from temple to jaw. It too was bleeding heavily.

Diluc approached them with haste, alerted by their state, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened!?"

They pushed past him too as he reached out to them, "Don't.... touch me..."

Diluc glared at Swan as a way to tell him to go back to his post. He jumped but obliged nonetheless as Diluc began to follow after them. Grabbing their non-injured shoulder in his gloved hand, he tugged them gently to stop them from moving.

His tone was stern, "You do not have to speak with me nor do you have to accept my apology. But you will get those injuries tended to even if I have to drag you to the church myself."

They pulled themselves from his grip, out of breath and tired, "Why is it that you care? I'm but a hindrance remember. Even as we speak I am obstructing you."

"If those were my feelings I wouldn't be here. I don't expect forgiveness but I would still like to let you know that what I said doesn't define how I feel for you. That is of little importance right now. Your injuries need to be dealt with"

They said nothing, looking off to the side. Sluggishly they move towards their home again, quietly ushering for him to follow. "I have plenty of medical supplies of my own." They paused, "When my injuries heal, I expect an apology in full. And as for my trust... You'll have to work for it."

He was relieved. Their words suggested that there was a still a chance for him.

-

Tartaglia

It took him a while to calm down. After all, he did tend to brood on things until they festered. At first, he only got angrier. Angry that the cheater got away with it. Angry that they sided with the cheater. Angry that they helped the cheater.

He thought about it more though, and the more he rationalised the more he calmed down. They didn't really side with him, did they? They only helped him because he would have bled out had they not. As much as he wanted to beat the man's ass all over again, he let it slide. Killing him would be a waste anyway. Instead he would let the man's near death experience serve as a reminder.

When he was fully calm, he sought them out, their words echoing in the back of his head. 'Talk to me when you're fucking sane', they had said. Had his actions truly made them feel that way? Or was it in anger just as his words had been?

He checked Bubu Pharmacy first, seeing neither them nor the cheater. He assumed it was because the cheater was in the back getting treatment and that they had gone on their merry way. The search continued.

His hunt continued all across the harbour and he was unable to tell if they were going out of their way to avoid him or if he was looking in all the wrong places. Finally, he resorted to asking around, getting a couple tidbits of information from some Milileth.

He was told that they were seen exiting the harbour and that seemed extremely miffed. So retracing their steps, he left the harbour as well, following along the path that led toward Guili Plains.

He continued to follow the path until Wangshu Inn appeared in the distance and quietly pondered why they came out this far. Something seemed off though. Halting his movements, he scanned the area, sapphire eyes landing on a familiar silhouette sitting at the base of an apple tree.

He was unaware of how long they'd been sitting there when he approached, but there they were an apple in hand. They finished mid chewing and spoke after they swallowed the fruit in their mouth.

"Get out of my sight. I don't fucking want you here." Despite their icy tone, he knew that they weren't angry anymore. They did, however, want to be left alone though he did not oblige.

His eyes travelled to the blood that coloured the grass beneath them. There was a teasing edge to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, hm? Get in a fight without me?"

Finding each other bloody was nothing new to either of them and playing it up was a game of sorts. An inside joke if you will. Most of the time he acted like a worried spouse for them and vice versa, but at this moment it was genuine worry. They scoffed.

"Yes, but unlike you, I don't try to kill men on the street."

He held up his hands in defeat before sitting down across from them, "Not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

They rolled their eyes, leaning their head against the tree trunk, "It happened a few hours ago. But you get a free pass because I don't have the energy to debate right now."

He moved to check their injury and they slapped his hands away with a quiet 'Don't touch me'. Yet he continued to eye it warily, staring at their face as if to ask permission. His gaze was gentle, genuine worry spread across his face. They caved after several minutes, looking away.

Pulling their shirt up to reveal the injury on their hip, it appeared as though they tried to cauterize it. With a sigh, he stood and held his hand out to help then up. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted his hand and immediately after they stood he crouched in front of them and signalled for them to get on his back. They obliged and he carried them back to the city.

"Don't think that this means I forgive you for what you said to me."

For once he didn't feel like teasing, knowing that it wouldn't help mend the situation, "I know. I do wish to apologise though. My words were... unnecessary. I took my anger out on you."

"Damn right." They patted his head, "Though if you're a good boy I might forgive you faster."

He sighed, fully aware that they were going to use him as an errand boy for the next few days.

-

Kaeya

He continued after their encounter as though nothing had happened at all. The silence that filled his office after they left was deafening but he took the time to finish his work. All of the paperwork that had piled up and all the tedious remedial tasks had been finished, the rest of his duties taken care of as well.

Days passed before he finally decided to confront them, and over that period his the guilt over his cruelty toward them festered. He was fully aware that they were trying to help, trying to make his workload lighter, yet he still snapped at them.

If he hadn't taken out his frustration on them then the two would be together right now. If he had just let them help will all of it then we would have gotten done much faster and gotten to relax much sooner. The stack they did do, however, was the biggest one from the piles which did shorten the time he was working. If only he hadn't scared them away.

He began his search for them at their home, finding it empty. Thinking for a moment, he began to check the usual places they went when they were upset. As he headed to Windrise it turned out that he didn't have to look far, for they were limping over the bridge that led into the city.

They were bleeding heavily from their chest, hand clutching the wound with unspoken panic. He rushed toward them, reaching out to support their body weight.

His voice was demanding, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened?"

"It was just an Abyss Mage. Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here."

He knew he deserved their scalding words but that didn't stop him from trying. He held his tongue to stop a smart ass comment. Usually, he wouldn't hold back but he knew this wasn't the time.

"You may not want me here, but if you don't get some help you'll bleed out before you can make it to the cathedral." He spoke calmly despite his internal conflict, and they knew that he had a point.

Begrudgingly they leaned against him as he escorted them through town. Moving hurt as it aggravated their injury but it was necessary. As soon as they got inside the cathedral he called for Barbara who appeared around the corner. Her face contorted in horror as she escorted them to the infirmary.

Kaeya sat amongst the pews and waited, having an internal debate with himself. Would they forgive him? Would they even hear him out?

Hours passed before Barbara remerged with news of their condition. He could see them but they could not leave for a while. With caution, he entered, knocking on the door frame to get their attention.

They turned their head in his direction but scowled when they realised that it was him. "Do you need something?"

He hummed, "No but you do." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took their hands in his, "I wanted to apologise. Both for what I said to you and for taking your kindness for granted."

They stared him down but say nothing but sincerity in his eyes, "I'm listening."

He was slightly caught off guard by their response, nevertheless though it made him happy. They fact that they were willing to listen showed that there was a possibility for forgiveness.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza​ @queenariesofnarnia​​ @commonintrest​​ @buckylokisimp​ @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay​​​​

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true: 

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[staticscreenwriting]

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes

One - When Harry met Sally 

Synopsis: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. Growing  up, Bucky had not a doubt in his mind that his undeniable charm and his gorgeous smile would one day help him find the one. Now he realizes there’s so much more to romancing women, especially those from the 21st century. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is not a love story. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for EP1 of TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“ Now in the movies they make it look so perfect And in the background they're always playing the right song And in the ending there's always a resolution But real life is more than just two hours long “

Some Avett Brothers song sounds from the little radio that sits on the corner of the counter. Thick drops of rain pearl against the window, racing each other down the glass before meeting up eventually and becoming one with each other. 

(Y/N) refills the last of the mustard bottles, setting it on the counter next to the others. It’s a quiet night at the diner. The kitchen’s been closed for an hour now and usually, that’s when people stop coming in. While the Little Blue Diner is known for their hot dogs and burgers, neither their coffee nor their cold sandwiches are gonna win any prizes any time soon. 

And yet …

Sure enough, as her eyes lift towards the figure slouched down in the corner booth, his gloved hand is already outstretched, signaling his desire for yet another refill.

A mixture between a chuckle and a scoff tumbles from her lips at the thought of him wanting more of the slightly burned liquid. If there’s one thing (Y/N) can admit to being bad at, it’s brewing coffee. Where there should be a rich brown color, hers usually ends up with an inky black hue and instead of leaving a hint of warm caramelization on your tongue hers just tastes bitter. It doesn’t seem to face the man in the corner though. Not even a little bit. To say this worries her is a bit of an understatement. No one in their right mind would take 7 refills of her witch's brew.

“ You okay, my dude ? “ (Y/N) inquires as she steps up to his table, coffee pot in hand. 

The man doesn’t look up at her. He doesn’t have to. She’s acutely aware of the character currently occupying the corner booth. It’s a face she knows like the back of her hand. One that’s been staring at her from books and documentaries, one she’s been greeted by every time her dad took her with him to the Smithsonian. Though they do not dare look up at her, she’s so awfully familiar with the bright blue shade of his eyes, he might as well be a long-time friend. 

“ I’m fine. “ 

Of all the lies in the world, “I’m fine” must be the most unbelievable one and yet the one told most often. No one who’s actually fine ever says those words. Those two words are reserved for the lonely and broken only. It’s like getting “I’m not fine at all” tattooed across your goddamn forehead. 

“ Sure you are, that’s why you’re having the 7th refill of my god awful coffee. “ 

“ ‘s not that bad. “ 

“ Sure, if you’re into licking charcoal it’s probably not that bad. “

It’s just a split of a second, a fraction of a moment, but (Y/N) is sure she can see the corner of his lips lifting slightly. It falls back into the stoic scowl immediately but it was there. For a teeny tiny moment, there was the shadow of a smirk on his face and that’s a success in her book. 

“ Either way, here’s how we’re gonna do this. I’ll give you one last refill, after that, I’m cutting you off, my friend. I know I’m a waitress and it’s my job to bring you what you want but I do not fancy watching you suffer a caffeine-induced heart attack in this very diner. I am not equipped to handle a situation like that and quite honestly they don’t pay me enough to deal with that either. “ 

His eyes are still trained on the scratched-up white linoleum table but ever so faintly he nods his head in silent agreement. 

As promised, she pours him one last cup of coffee. A brew so dark it could rival the bubbling goo of a tar pit. 

“ Enjoy your last cup of the night, Mr. Barnes. “ 

It’s then, as she’s just about to walk back behind the counter, as those words leave her lips, that he looks up for the first time since he’s walked in. 

His eyes are the exact shade of blue she’s so familiar with but there’s something else about them. An infinite sadness haunts every spec of blue. Where she thought there would be a sparkle of adventure, a hint of mischief, there is just loneliness. This is not the man she’s read about in museums, heard about in stories. This man right here is completely and utterly lost.

“ I - I uh — “ 

He clears his throat, once, twice, then nervously brushes his hand across his face. 

“ I can go if you don’t want me here. “ 

“ Huh? “ 

“ I asked if you want me to leave. “ 

As those words escape him, his eyes seem to grow even more devastated. They glimmer with memories of a time long gone and a future uncertain. Shine with hurt and fear. 

“ Why would I ask you to leave? “ 

Bucky shrugs his shoulders in a way to make it look nonchalantly. It’s hard to seem casual though when you seem to carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. 

“ People who recognize me usually aren’t so keen on having me around. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m uh — I’m not people’s favorite person. “ 

It’s a sad thought, (Y/N) realizes, to be constantly bound to a past that is yours but never really belongs to you. To be forever linked with the horrible actions of a version of yourself you had no control over. And no matter how hard you try to set it all right and to repent for your wrongdoings, to some people it will never be enough.

“ No, you don’t have to leave, “ (Y/N) reassures before sliding into the booth opposite him. “ I don’t know you because of — because of what happened. I know you first and foremost as Sergeant Barnes, former officer of the 107th Infantry Regiment, part of the Howling Commandos, and best friend and brother to Steve Rogers. Everything else that’s — none of my business really. “ 

Bucky lifts his eyes off of the table again and while the sadness is still there, something else lingers for a moment. Curiosity, intrigue maybe, or just relief. 

“ Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into someone reciting my life to me. Huh. “ 

“ My dad used to be a curator at the Smithsonian. He was in charge of the Captain America exhibition. I’ve seen your face a million times, visiting him at work. I gotta say though, you look way more approachable and friendly on the picture they put up. “ 

This time, it’s more than a fleeting moment, this time she’s sure about it, this time he lets out an actual chuckle. 

“ I was a lot younger then, okay? Cut an old man some slack. “ 

“ Oh, you pulling the old man card now? “ 

“ Is it working? “ he asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

“ Not really. “ 

“ Ah, what a shame.” 

Silence settles upon them again like a thick duvet filled with feathers, it’s not uncomfortable but it’s smothering anyway.

“ Do you wanna talk about it? Your sour mood, I mean.” 

Bucky shrugs again “I have a therapist.” 

“ Does she make you draw your feelings? “ 

He smiles again at that question. His smile, (Y/N) thinks, ain’t the worst thing she’s ever seen. She wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“ No. Why? “ 

“ Mine did. She stopped pretty quickly though, I guess my drawings were too detailed and gory for her.” 

“ Huh. “ 

“ Mmmh.” 

After another sip of coffee, one he takes without grimacing, without showing any sign of disgust for the burnt brew, Bucky speaks up again.

“ Mine thinks I’m lying to her. “ 

“ Are you ?” 

“ Well yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that.” 

“ Maybe telling her the truth would help you. “ (Y/N) suggests only to be met with a determined head shake No from Bucky. 

The notification sound of a phone pulls them from their conversation and at the sight of the name on the display, Bucky lets an “oh shit” slip from his lips.

“ Don’t you sound excited about getting texts from your friends, “ (Y/N) jokes

“ I had a date last night. That’s her. “ 

“ Since she’s texting you I assume it went well. “ 

Bucky grimaces at her words, slightly shaking his head in disagreement.

“ No? “ 

“ I mean, I had fun and it went well — at first. She’s really sweet. But then we started talking and I may have run. “ 

“ Ran where? “ 

“ Away. “ 

“ Away as in you left. “ 

“ Mm-mmh” 

“ Just like that? “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ Why? “ 

He throws up his arms in frustration and shakes his head again as if to gather all his thoughts and rattle them neatly back into place. 

“ I don’t know, okay? I haven’t been on a date since the 1940s. Everything I know about women and dating and romance seems antiquated. I’m overwhelmed and confused and I just don’t wanna do anything wrong.” 

“ Dude, you ran from your date without any explanation. How much worse could you have handled it? “ 

“ Yeah well, hindsight is 20/20. “ 

While his words try to sound light and nonchalant, his shoulders tense and his whole demeanor seems to shift back into the gloomy state he’s been in since he entered the diner. Like a big cloud that’s following him around, casting shadows at all times and hardly allowing any light to shine through.

“ Look, I don’t think any of us know what the heck we’re doing half the time. Like, trust me I know what I’m talking about. Online dating means I have to choose between men who think posing with a dead fish will make me want to sleep with them, men who think knowing obscure Star Wars facts can replace having an actual personality, and men who send me pictures of their … privates without me ever giving any indication of wanting to see those. So yeah — dating can really s - be frustrating. “ 

Bucky regards her for a second, the right corner of his lips pulled into a lazy lopsided smirk.

“ Did you just censor yourself because you don’t wanna swear around me ?” 

“ Maybe, but that’s beside the point. The point is, we’re all just human and in the end, we’re all just looking for someone to like us the way we are, all quirks and issues and baggage included. I know women might seem intimidating but really all we want is to be loved and appreciated. And not the over-the-top build-you-a-house, the notebook kind of love. More like the Harry and Sally kind.“ 

(Y/N) can almost see the gears working inside Bucky’s brain, the desperate attempt to make any sense of all the words and phrases she’s just thrown at him. A jumbled mess of pop culture references swirls through his head like a swarm of bees, chaotic and messy. 

“ I have no idea what you just said. “ 

“ When Harry met Sally? “

Bucky just shrugs and shakes his head.

“ You’ve never seen it? “ 

“ I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being blipped away into oblivion for the last 5 years. So I haven’t really had the time to get into movies yet. “ 

This time it’s the gears in her own head that start turning. 

“ What are you doing Friday night ? “ she asks, biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

“ I — I don’t know. “ 

That’s a bit of a lie, really. He does know. It’s the same thing he does pretty much every other day. He gets some takeout, brings it home, sits down in front of the tv, tries to get lost in whatever show they put on, fails at doing so, reads a few pages of a book, lays down to sleep, and then wakes up a little while later to yet another nightmare, tangled up in sweaty sheets, heart racing. 

(Y/N) doesn’t need to know any of that though. He doesn’t tell his therapist so why would he tell a random stranger.

“ Well, don’t make any plans. We’re gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone. “ 

“ We are? “ 

“ Yeah. Trust me on this one. “ 

“ I don’t even know you. “ 

“ Sure you do. “ (Y/N) says and taps the tag pinned to her baby blue polo shirt with the diner’s logo on the back.  “ I’m the one who serves you just enough coffee to keep you happy but not have you die a painful and honestly mildly embarrassing death. “ 

Every part of him screams at him to say no. To stay away from her the way he does from most other people, even Sam. To get up and get out and not cause any more damage than he already has in other people’s life. But then he remembers his therapist's words, he remembers Leah’s face full of confusion and disappointment, he remembers the empty feeling in his chest. That feeling of pure and utter loneliness. 

“ Alright, Friday works for me, (Y/N). “ 

“ Perfect, Bucky. “ 

“ Bring a jacket. “ 

The address and “Bring a jacket” that’s all she’s texted him. No explanation, no plan, nothing. 

Bucks leans against the streetlamp, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Anxiety is washing through his system like tidal waves on a stormy ocean. This whole being spontaneous thing was much easier back in the 40s. When his shoulders weren’t so heavy with guilt. When he didn’t have to constantly face the consequences of his actions. Consequences of a past he can never quite outrun no matter how far he goes and how hard he tries. 

Maybe this is good, he has to remind himself. Getting out of his comfort zone, if that even exists for him. Opening himself up to new opportunities. Maybe even make a friend. (Y/N) seem nice enough, if a bit peculiar. 

His shrink would be proud of him. Getting out there, talking to people, being approachable. This must for sure earn him some kind of gold star equivalent in her notebook. 

“ Hey there, Mr. Grumpyface. “ 

(Y/N)'s voice cuts through the chilly New York night like headlights through thick fog. She strolls towards him, lips pulled into a big bright smile. Leading up to tonight he’s spent quite a lot of time wondering if this is some kind of project for her, if maybe she sees him as a sort of charity case. Something to earn her karma points. It wouldn’t be the first time. But the genuine joy radiating from her face lets those worries melt away instantly. 

Maybe, Bucky thinks, she really just thinks he’ll make a good friend. And maybe he can. 

“ Hi, (Y/N). “

“ You brought a jacket” she points out, pinching the black leather between her fingers. Her nails are painted in various shades of red, each finger a different hue. 

“ I did. You told me to. “

“ And you listened! “ 

“ Why wouldn’t I ? “ Bucky inquires, a look of confusion settling on his face.

“ You wouldn’t believe how many men think wearing a jacket when it’s cold out somehow clashes with their need to demonstrate their masculinity. “ 

“ Wow. “ he exclaims.

“ Yeah. So anyway, you ready to go up? “ 

She nods her head towards the house across the street. It’s a slim multiple-story brick building with rusty fire escapes. It looks like a residential lot, not much else that could give away (Y/N)’s plan for the rest of the night.

“ Up? “ 

“ Mm-mh. “ (Y/N) nods and motions towards the top of the building. “ to the roof. “ 

“ The roof? You’re not planning to push me off or anything, right? I don’t usually spend time with strangers on rooftops. “ he tells her, a smirk lifting the sides of his lips.

She grants him a smile in return. One of those that you try so hard to suppress but despite your best efforts they find their way onto your face anyway. Because some smiles demand to be smiled. And her smile is pretty cute, he thinks, it deserves to be seen. 

“ Foiled again, damn Bucky. I’m a waitress with a useless degree in literature and creative writing but assassinating you was exactly what I had planned for tonight. Couldn’t let me have that one, huh? “ 

“ Sorry to spoil all the fun. “ 

She softly bumps her shoulder against his right side as she passes him and crosses the street. Her red skirt flutters around her knees like a ribbon of fire, bright and warm and —

“ You coming, grumpy ?” 

“ Yeah uh — yeah sure. “ 

The walk upstairs is filled with chatter from her and nodding from Bucky. It’s been like this most of the time since — well since he’s really back. Other people usually do the talking and Bucky listens. It works most of the time. Works with Yori. Sometimes though, sometimes it doesn’t. He can see people getting frustrated with him. Hell his own therapist does and she knows the baggage he has to carry around. 

This is different though, (Y/N) doesn’t seem to mind much. She’s a waterfall of words and topics and doesn’t seem to get bored or annoyed with him. It’s nice. 

A heavy iron door swings open as they reach the top of the building and as soon as they step out onto the rooftop balcony they get engulfed in an ocean of lights. They’re strung from one end of the roof to the other and back again. Next to the door, a little makeshift bar is set up, and a guy in a Star Wars shirt hands out beers to people. 

Multicolored deck chairs and beanbags are haphazardly placed across the entire roof, all pointing towards the corner furthest away from the door where a big white sheet hangs spanned between two poles. 

“ Sooo you gonna tell me what we’re doing here? “ Bucky asks again as (Y/N) steers him towards a cluster of chairs in the back. 

“ Some peeps I went to university with, set up movie screenings here every once in a while. I could pull some strings and got to choose the movie. “ 

“ We’re gonna watch a movie? “ 

“ Not just any movie, “ she exclaims and drops down onto one of the plastic deck chairs that looks like it used to be bright pink once but is now but a bleached blush colour from being exposed to the sun too much. “ We’re watching when Harry met Sally. “ 

Bucky slumps down on the chair next to her, a blue one with white daisy patterns. 

“ Me not knowing this movie really does bother you, huh? “ 

“ It’s a classic, might as well start with this one. And anyway, maybe this can help you get back into the dating game. Ya know, help you understand modern romance. “

“ You think so? “ 

She shrugs and starts fumbling around in her bag, “ I dunno. It might. And if it doesn’t at least you’ll spend your time watching a good movie and get to experience the blessing of my company. Ah-ha! There you go “ 

Her hand reaches out holding a bag of M&Ms.

“ I brought snacks. “ 

More and more people start occupying the chairs and bean bags and a few minutes later a guy steps up in front of the sheet. He’s wearing a shirt with a black and white bird pattern, huge glasses with a brown frame, and jeans that don’t cover his ankles. He’s tall and lanky and his hair is so messy, Bucky wonders if it’s intentional or if he just hasn’t brushed it in a while. 

“ Hi guys, I’m Andrew. For those of you who don’t know me, I live in apartment 2B and I just wanna say thank you for showing up and welcome you to our movie night under the stars. A few days ago we received a special request from one of our good friends and because she let me stay on her couch for several months back during our college days and I still owe her for that I couldn’t reject her request. So thanks to Miss (Y/N) over there in the pink chair you now get to spend the next 90 minutes watching Meg Ryan fall in love with Mike Wazowski. Enjoy. “ 

As he steps away from the sheet, the lights are turned off and the MGM logo pops up on the screen. 

“ Trust me, Bucky. This one’s so good.” (Y/N) assures before throwing some M&Ms into her mouth, now entirely focused on the movie.

It takes a while for Bucky to relax. Being around so many people and not having any fear of what’s lurking around the corner is still very new. Letting go is never as easy as it sounds. Eventually though, his nerves settle down a little and as the movie progresses, he finds himself relaxing more and more. Something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not since Wakanda.

Exactly 46 minutes into the movie, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander to her left where Bucky, until now, sat slumped into his seat. Still perpetually grumpy but more chilled out and relaxed than she’s seen him before. Until now. A moaning Meg Ryan visible making him uncomfortable.

“ You okay, grumpy? “ 

He doesn’t grant her a real answer, just scoffs and rolls his eyes. There’s a smile though, she’s sure. Somewhere hidden there is another smile. 

“ So, what did we learn today? “ 

Bucky looks at (Y/N) who has her arms wrapped tightly around her middle shielding herself from the chilly night air. The movie night has ended a while ago and the two of them are slowly strolling along the New York City streets on the way back to (Y/N)’s apartment. 

“ To take your own advice and dress warmer for a movie night? “ 

(Y/N) chuckles. “ No, grumpy. I meant the movie. “ 

He shrugs at her question. Quite honestly he hasn’t learned anything new. Nothing about the movie seemed in any way revolutionary to him nor does he see any benefit for himself and his dating life going forward. But the way she looks at him right now, expecting something grand not from him really but some beautiful consequences to her ideas, that makes him reconsider. Sure he could tell her that it was just a silly little movie about people falling in love but that would no doubt hurt her, even a tiny little bit. And if there’s anything Bucky has enough of, it’s hurting others. 

“ I guess that men and women really can not be friends. “ 

“ Noooo! No. Is that really what you took from this movie? “ 

“ That’s literally what happened. “ 

“ Okay first of all it works, look at us! We’re friends! Second of all, that’s not what the movie is really about. It’s about love and vulnerability. It’s about overcoming all the tiny things that can work against you and your relationship. Like distance and timing and egotism. It’s about hiding who you are because really opening up to someone, being your authentic true self with all your faults and imperfections, that makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable is fucking scary. But love is worth it anyway. That’s what the movie is about. “

As Bucky noticed before, some smiles demand to be smiled. They need to be smiled because they’re important and they mean something. The one gracing his face now, that’s one of those. One of those you remember because you feel them all the way in your heart.

“ You think we’re friends? “ 

“ Oh, are we — are we not? “ 

“ No. I — no, we are! I’d like to be friends. “ 

(Y/N) abruptly stops in her tracks, turns towards him, and holds out her hand. “ To friendship.” 

“ We’re shaking hands on it? What is this, a business deal? “ 

“ You know what, yeah now that you mention it that’s pretty lame. “ (Y/N) agrees, balling her hand into a fist “ how about a fist bump, bro? “ 

Bucky reluctantly knocks his right hand against hers before continuing his walk down the street. “You call me bro again I’m canceling the friendship. “ 

“ Alright. Noted. “ 

“ So have you talked to the girl again? “ 

“ Hmm? “ 

“ The one you went on a date with? “ 

“ Oh, Leah. Uh — no.” 

“ Why not? “ 

Bucky throws her a look. One that says “are you kidding me?”. One that says “ you know why.” 

“ Cause I ran out. That’s embarrassing. She’s gonna think I’m insane. She’s never gonna wanna see me again. “ 

“ I sincerely doubt that. You just gotta say sorry. I know in Love Story — that’s a novel and also a movie from the 70s — they say that ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry but that’s a load of bull. Just say sorry and ask her for a do-over. “ 

“ And then what? We play a rematch of battleships and talk about my trauma? “ 

“ Well, what did you do on dates in the 40s? “ 

That time, his youth, that seems like a different life altogether now. So much happened between then and now and the man he is now, has no relation to the boy he was then. Sometimes looking back hurts, makes it painfully obvious what he’s lost. But sometimes, like tonight, he can feel a hint of fondness coursing through him at the thought of times long gone.

“ Dancing, mostly.” 

“ Like, ballroom dancing? “ 

“ Swing. “ 

“ You swing dance? “ 

“ I did. “ 

(Y/N) regards him through squinted eyes “ really? “ 

“ You don’t believe me? “

“ I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a dancer. “ 

Not a second later, Bucky’s gloved hand grabs onto her’s and twirls her towards him then away from him and back in. 

“ You twirled me! “ 

“ Mm-mh.”

“ I’ve never been twirled. That’s so fun. “ 

It’s like autopilot taking over as Bucky holds onto her, twirling her again then pulling her in and swaying them in a circle. It’s not swing dancing, not even close but there’s no music either, and anyway, his dancing days are over. But sometimes you gotta make a point and if that means slow dancing in the middle of an empty street then that’s that. 

The night wraps them in a blanket of comfort and intimacy as the stars and the New York skyline try to outshine each other. It’s a moment so peaceful, Bucky can’t remember the last time his heart felt so light, his mind felt so at ease, his entire being got to let go and just be alive and in the moment.

And then the shine of headlights rips them from their moment and makes them jump back onto the sidewalk. 

“ Get off the road you fucking morons! “ 

“ Gotta love the big city folk. “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ Hey, Bucky.” 

“ What? “ 

“ You really can dance.” 

“ Told you. “ 

“ Can I tell you a secret? “ 

“ Sure. “ 

“ I can’t dance for shit. “ 

“ That so? “

“ Yup. Which means you gotta teach me. “ 

“ Absolutely not.” 

“ Oh, 100%! “ 

“ We’ll see about that.” 

There are nights you try to forget. Nights that you wish to never ever remember. Ones that break you. That beat you down and leave you bruised and battered.

Then there are nights like this one that you want to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Those that fill you with joy and an immeasurable thirst for life. The ones that make you feel grateful to be alive right here and now. 

The inevitable end of the night creeps closer as they arrive at (Y/N)’s front door. Neither of them really want to say goodnight but both know there’s no use in delaying it.

“ I hope you didn’t hate the movie too much, “ (Y/N) speaks up, leaning against the front door of her apartment complex.

“ No. It was fun! Although I still don’t know who Mike Wazulsky is. “ 

“ Mike Wazowski, he’s — you know what? That’s a conversation for another time. “ 

“ Alright, if you say so. “ 

“ Thanks for walking me home. “ 

“ Oh, yeah no need to thank me. It’s the right thing to do. “ 

For a moment they just stand and smile, trying to cherish the last few moments of this night. 

“ We should do this more often. “ Bucky suggests, surprising even himself.

“ For sure. I still have so many movies to show you. “ 

“ Can’t wait. “ 

A slight sense of awkwardness falls over them as neither of them knows what to do. Go for a hug? Shakes hands? Wave goodbye? 

“ I uh — I should go. “ 

“ Yeah, of course. Have a good night, Bucky.” 

“ You too, (Y/N).” 

“ Oh and Bucky? “ 

“ Yes? “ 

“ Give Leah a call. “ 

Bucky nods his head before turning around and walking back into the night.

As he takes the way back to his own home, there are only two things on Bucky’s mind: the vulnerability of falling in love and the question of who the hell Mike Wazowski was. 

[satoruvt]

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible. 

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair. 

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go. 

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it. 

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick. 

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door. 

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything. 

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first. 

And it’s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long. 

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will. 

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly. 

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

[fatefulfaerie]

Domesticity

Zelink Week 2021 prompt #5/7 @zelinkweek2021

Word Count: 1,951

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (post)

Additional Prompts Followed: Hearts, Family

No Trigger Warnings

“Is one of us dying?”

The feast was definitely unsettling to Wendie, and although she was mostly joking, she couldn’t help but think that such a nice dinner at such a random time of the year was odd. Of course her dad was a great cook, but this was a step above, despite there being no family birthdays for at least three months and no holidays for five.

“No,” her mother said as she placed on the table a large bowl of goat-buttered mashed potatoes, one of Wendie’s favorite foods. She had said it with a slight motherly laugh and a warm smile. “No one is dying. We’re just having a family dinner.”

The mother, who went by the name Zelda, had aged gracefully over the past twenty years, blonde hair highlighted with streaks of white that her husband would often call angelic and ethereal when she would doubt her beauty. At the moment, her age-hued hair was swept into a single braid behind her head, messy yet secure.

“Our family dinners aren’t usually this elaborate,” Wendie observed. “You made mashed potatoes and seafood rice balls—which is Elyjah’s favorite food—grilled carrots, meat pie, mushroom skewers and you have an apple turnover on the counter for dessert!”

“Nothing gets past you,” her father said, putting a bowl of baked and salted radishes on the table. His blue eyes looked over to Zelda. “I think we raised them too smart.”

“Nonsense,” Zelda said, walking forward and using the rag that was just draped over her shoulder to wipe a smattering of flour off of Link’s forehead. “Where’s Elyjah?”

Wendie made a sound that sounded a lot like a lazy “I don’t know” while shrugging her shoulders where she sat at the table.

“He can just eat when he gets home,” Wendie reasoned. “There’s more than enough food.”

Wendie didn’t see her parents exchange glances, the seventeen-year old not caring in the slightest that her twin brother wasn’t here to ruin her first dibs on dinner.

“I’ll try and find him,” Zelda said with a sigh, Wendie looking back up at her parents. Link nodded as Zelda departed. Wendie once again questioned what was going on.

“Ly!” The father and daughter heard outside, Zelda from just the doorstep of their modest Hateno home calling out to the entirety of Hyrule. Link sat down across from his daughter, elbows on the table and arms folded into each other. The deep thought he was in concerned Wendie greatly. He wouldn’t even meet her glance. Was she in trouble?

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Elyjah.

Of all the people to be in trouble, surely it was him. He had never gotten into anything truly bad but he was the biggest prankster in Hateno. The only shop he wasn’t banned from was the dye shop. The green-eyed troublemaker was here nonetheless and Wendie prepared herself for another fun show. Zelda moved to sit down next to Link at the table but Elyjah stopped as soon as he saw the table, mouth popped open and body frozen.

“Is someone dying?”

He had looked over to his sister when he asked the question.

“Yeah,” she said. “You.”

“What?” Elyjah asked, almost believing it.

“Wendie, that’s enough now,” Zelda said, before looking over to her son. “No one is dying. We would just like to talk to you both.”

Elyjah sat next to Wendie with the same bewildered look as her, trying to figure out what it was before their parents spit it out. It was like Hylia’s Day presents except they didn’t have a good feeling about this, especially when Link took Zelda’s hand and looked at their children, ready to address them.

And yet it was Zelda who started.

“Do you two remember the fairytale we used to tell you?” Zelda inquired, her voice shaky. “The bedtime story? Of the princess and the knight?”

Neither Elyjah nor Wendie had any clue of the relevance, but they both remembered the tale well.

“The one with the weird ending?” Wendie asked nonetheless. “Where he rescued her and then that was it?”

“Yeah,” Elyjah said. “Didn’t they just stare at each other in silence? After all they had been through, it seemed like there should have been more.”

Link dove his hand into his forehead.

“Zelda, you could have given them a better ending,” Link suggested.

Zelda scoffed and put her hands on her hips.

“It was a lesson in imagination,” she said. “And clearly none of you have any.”

“But that’s besides the point…” Link said, prompting Zelda in a different direction.

“Yes,” Zelda said, nodding at Link and returning her gaze to their children, confused as ever. And yet she smiled at them.

“You both have grown up so fast,” Zelda said. “We both love you very much and cannot believe that you have blossomed right before our eyes into adults.”

Zelda’s smile became sad and she bowed her head.

“You see it’s a lot easier to lie to children.”

Wendie’s brow furrowed.

“Lie…” she repeated from her mother.

When Zelda’s head tilted back up, green was glazed with waves of coming tears, making the emeralds that Link fell in love with a hundred years ago shine even brighter.

“That fairytale…” Zelda said. “The princess who used her sealing power to keep away Calamity Ganon and the knight who slept in a ruined Hyrule for a hundred years in order to recover from his injuries and save her…”

Zelda stopped herself. Twenty years of keeping it in and it seems it wanted to stay in. She wrestled with her conflicted heart, kept it at bay long enough for her to blurt it out.

“It’s true,” Zelda said, no weakness in her voice, no lie, no apprehension. “The knight and the princess really did fight the calamity, really did survive a century to see it through and then some. Once they tracked down the cause of the anomaly, destroying the true form of Ganon, they settled down in Hateno. They got married and eventually gave life to twins, a boy and a girl.” Zelda’s eyes were proud as she looked upon her children, although they glistened with tears. Her heart hurt to see their faces in shock, but the outspoken truth felt better than she could have imagined. She felt Link’s grip tighten around her fingers.

“You both have royal blood in you,” Zelda said. “Even though I stepped away from the throne in the search of a simpler, more fulfilling life, you both still have claim to the titles of Prince Elyjah and Princess Wendie. We wanted you to know in case that path would prove fulfilling for you and…well, now that you’re adults you have the right to know the truth.”

Wendie stood up and walked out of the house, her parents not daring to stop her. Elyjah, however, just sat in shock, piecing it all together in his mind. Link and Zelda both could see his green eyes working, much like his mother’s did when she went over schematics or theorized about plant life.

“The story,” he finally started, “everything you went through…the pressure…you wanted to protect us from that…you wanted to give us the childhood you never had…that neither of you had.”

Link nodded.

“That’s right.”

Elyjah pursed his lips and nodded. Sometimes he was just like his dad. He shrugged.

“Okay,” he said, replacing his empty plate with the one filled with the seafood rice balls meant for the whole family. “Cool,” he continued, or at least it sounded like the word “cool”, his mouth mostly filled with rice.

Link raised his eyebrows and looked over at Zelda.

“Apparently we’re…cool.” Link said the last word as if it were completely foreign.

“Not all of us,” Zelda reminded her husband. She started to stand up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Yet Link placed a hand on her arm.

“I’ll go,” Link said. “You stay and enjoy the food.”

Link found his daughter on the banks of Firly Pond, knees hugged close to her chest and water lapping at her bare toes.

At first he waited with his hand on the bark of the near apple tree, pursing his lips. Sometimes he was thrust back in time twenty years, when he felt he had no idea how to be a dad. This was one of those moments.

Link saw in his mind’s eye Wendie’s big blue eyes staring up at him, stubby arms reaching for him. He smiled. She grew up so fast.

“I know you’re there,” he heard Wendie say. She didn’t turn her head away from the pond. “Did you come to give me a speech?”

Link walked towards her.

“Maybe.”

He sat down next to her and Wendie only gave him the smallest of glances.

“I feel like I don’t know my parents at all,” she finally said.

Link nodded.

“I understand.” He said. “I don’t agree, but I understand.”

Wendie looked over to his profile, trying to ascertain how he could be serious. The calamity was real and her parents fought it. Sheikah technology really could heal fatal wounds and the goddesses power really was wielded by a mortal, not to mention her own mother, who never seemed like a princess in the slightest. Her father was a knight in a kingdom that really did exist and she?

Well she was a princess. This whole time, she was a princess. The girl who was called the “ugly duckling” of the family as a child was a princess in peasant’s clothing. She almost wanted to go brag to the town, but that seemed petty for just a small ounce of appreciation from the people her age who used to tease her when they would play as children.

Her parents were legends and in comparison, what was she?

Definitely not a princess.

“You know us as what we became after everything we went through,” Link finally said, having taken the time to get his words together. “The people we were before…”

He hesitated.

“We were nothing more than what the kingdom wanted us to be…statues, legends, weapons…we were never fully ourselves, and we could never afford to be ourselves with an entire kingdom looking at us to save them from a calamity. The slivers that were left of us found a friendship in each other, one that grew into love in time. After everything was settled, we began to truly find ourselves, basking in the freedom to do so. It’s something that usually occurs in a fifteen year old but your mother and I were a hundred and twenty years old when we solved the identity crisis. She did not want to be royalty and I did not want to be a knight. When we finally did not need to be those things, we took our first breaths as Link and Zelda. We wanted our children to take those breaths from the very second they were born, and that is why we let you grow up before we told you the truth. We wanted royalty to be an option for you two, not a necessity. We wanted you to become yourselves, not tiny versions of us. I only hope we have…at least I think we have.”

Wendie smiled.

“You have,” she said. “If you want your daughter to have absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life.”

Link brought his daughter closer by hugging her far shoulder, bringing her close enough to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he said. It sounded strange but Link didn’t mean it as a bad thing. “Because finding out your passion for yourself is the most exciting thing in this entire wild land.”

[khadij-al-kubra]

Storytelling, Fate & Happy Endings

I’m still processing last nights episode (CR C2 Ep140), and much like every critter I’m SUPER emotional about it. But something about last night’s events and how they played out really got to me, not just as a fan but also as a storyteller. And even the day after, i was actually crying (still am crying in fact) more than i did last night watching it happen. At first i thought it was because i’m a fairly new critter and this is my first time watching a campaign come to an end. But the more i think about it and process, the more i realize that’s not just it. This effected me as someone who deeply believes in the power of storytelling and how it can not only effect but reflect the world around us. And because I have to get them out of my head, here are my thoughts on why last nights episode was so important, not just for CR fans but also as a an important narrative for right now.

...Yeah that’s a bit vague, isn’t it? Okay, let me explain. If you’re willing to take the time to read fellow Critters, I greatly appreciate it in advance. ^__^

WARNING: Major spoilers for CR Campaign 2 Episode 140 ahead. Also it’s gonna get kind of meta. And long. Because i have a lot of thoughts & feels.

So I think it’s fair to say that, as much as we would’ve been devastated by any of the M9 perma-dying in the last battle, part of us wasn’t expecting them all to make it out of there alive. Not even the players, I think, despite how much they likely didn’t want that to happen. Just look at the half-resigned way Liam talks about Caleb in the last few Talks Machina episodes. Or how, in game, Jester was fully prepare to die trying to stop the city from coming back. And for a while there, it seemed like some of them might not survive.

But then they did. Despite so many crappy rolls throughout the night they stopped Lucien, set free all the souls trapped in Aeor, saved Exandria, and brought each other back from the dead. Not only that, but they also did the impossible: They saved Mollymauk. Their lost friend who had such a deep impact on all of them even after his death. The delightfully charming asshole who was so full of joy and life and who, despite how the world treated him, was happily determined to leave every place better than he found it. Moreover, they almost didn’t succeed! But then they did, all because of teamwork, love and one last minute ditch effort ‘what-the-hell-have-i-got-to-lose’ dice role that none of them saw coming. And now they get to go home together, truly as The Mighty NINE.

Just this once, everybody lived! We got a happy ending!

And that’s HUGE in game...but also think for a second how that reflects outside of game too. Do you realize what a story like that means to people, especially given the year from Hell we’ve all had?

Think about it. This past year the world has suffered. We’ve all been impacted by the pandemic in some way shape or form, either on small levels or large. Our world has been at war with a virus that effected everyone and everything: Our sense of safety. Our health. Our economy. Our families & friends. Our freedom. (in the sense of our ability to travel & just be in close proximity to people without fear, but i digress) Deeply imbedded social and systematic diseases have been brought further to light in the past year and a half largely because of this virus. Some of us have lost people we love. Hell, the pandemic even effected the way that the latter half of Campaign 2 played out because of social distancing protocols. If you further compare this to Campaign 2, the world of Exandria was caught in the middle of a war that started because of social & systematic corruptions that had been rooted in two opposing kingdoms for years. And so many suffered and died because of it.

Then the Mighty Nein comes in. This ragtag group of delightful assholes with nothing to lose; these flawed but inherently good at heart and deeply human adventurers, broken and lost in their own ways, trying to make a home and family for themselves in a world that took advantage of them or left them alone or said they weren’t good enough...and they changed things. 

They grew. They fought back. They found moments of silliness and peace and joy and fun amidst all the strife and sometimes grief. Most of all, they tried. Sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of spite, sometimes even out of compassion, but mostly just out of love. And in the end, not only did they help people and stop a war for the sake of their loved ones, but they also saved their world from being destroyed by a rotted perversion of life from the past that threatened to consume everything they cared about. AND they STILL managed to bring everyone in their found family back to life. Does it erase the bad and sad things that happened to them? Hell no! But those things don’t negate the fact that in that moment, they made it out okay. That this was a victory and they won!

Think of what a story like that means to people right now.

I’m personally a pretty spiritual person, and much like our favorite clerics, I also believe in a higher power. But whether or not you also believe in a Divine being, the Universe or whatever, every D&D player believes in one thing: Fate. Luck. Call it what you will. But it was fate that made those dice rolls that saved everyone happen. It was fate that not only stopped Cognoza from returning, but also brought Jester and Caleb and Molly back to life, even when it seemed like it wouldn’t work. (and holy shit that gave me emotional whiplash!) 

After everything they went through, both individually and together, the Mighty Nein defied the odd and demanded that Fate let them save their loved ones. They demanded that the world give them back their friend; That they deserved to have their happy ending & get to go home alive together. Just. This. Once.

As a writer, I know firsthand that there are some stories we find and create ourselves, but then there are stories that have a way of finding us. Sometimes a story or world or character from somewhere in the Aether will pop into our minds one day and say, ‘I need your voice to tell my story.’ Maybe this is just me getting carried away with the meta brain again. And like i said, i’m a spiritually inclined person, so I believe in things like Fate and a Divine Higher power writing out the stories of the Multiverse. If you’re reading this (and thank you for taking the time to do so) maybe you do too. Or maybe you don’t. Either way, if you’re a fellow critter, then you’re clearly a fan of good stories and/or playing Dungeons & Dragons. So you know how fate/dice roles have a big impact on the outcome of a story, regardless of how tightly written a setup the dungeon master makes. Given all that and how organically stories tend to play out in D&D, I genuinely believe that Matt Mercer and the whole CR Team were meant to be conduits for a story where the flawed heroes save the world AND all make it home alive.

And I think Fate knew that we needed last nights battle to end like this. After all the crap we’ve been through this past year, we needed this happy ending, deserved it even! Not just us critters, the CR team too. As much as we all like to joke that Campaign 2 was secretly scripted, we all know that’s not true. Yes, the setup storyline and world were brilliantly crafted by Matt, and the character roleplaying is beautifully acted out by the team. But the twists and turns, the direction it goes, and how the game plays out is all up to fated dice rolls just like any other game. And something, some kind of force of luck, some force of fate, some Universal Divine DM out there made the roles happen the way they did last night.

It gave us a happy ending.

I believe that this was meant to happen; now of all times with everything else going on in the world. Amidst all this darkness and rot, both in game and in the real world, in the end of it all there was light and life. A reminder that sometimes people do live. They do get second chances. They do find a new family or reunite with old ones. That sometimes the world can be saved for a time, and happy ending do still exist. Even if it’s not broadcasted on the daily news amidst tragedy reports, or even tragedies that don’t get reported (which sadly are a lot, but again i digress).

Because the thing is, like Beau said, no one else will probably know they were heroes. No one will know what the Mighty Nein sacrificed to save all of Exandria. But they don’t need to know that for it to still be true, for life to happen again, and for a found family of nine broken people who love each other to go home together safe. It doesn’t invalidate that the good things happened. That at least for today everyone was saved. That flawed people were still able to do good because they tried. That they left the world better than they found it and got their own small but satisfying happy ending. Even if only for now, because we don’t know what’s gonna happen next Thursday. We don’t know what the future will hold for the Nein or Exandria when the Campaign ends or even when (hopefully) some loose ends will be tied up in later oneshots. But neither that nor the bad and sad stuff that happened beforehand in the game and in the character’s lives invalidates the fact that tonight they won. They lived.

So why can’t that be true for us in the real world?

I said earlier that, as a writer, I believe in the power stories have to not only reflect but also shape our world. This story is an example of why, but especially this episode, and that’s why i was so euphoric about the outcome. It wasn’t just a game for me, and i’m sure for others too. It was a much needed reminder that happy endings can still happen in real life, just as much as they can in stories. Even when everything seems dark and corrupt and rotten and hopeless, we can still keep fighting. We can keep trying. We can make new families and start over and be heroes in our on little lives in small ways. 

We can leave the world better than we found it. 

And maybe, with hard work, imagination, luck and a little Divine intervention...we can also get the happy endings we deserve.

[ateezmakemeweep]

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head. 

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more. 

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes. 

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.  

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion. 

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i���m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you. 

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still. 

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second. 

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily. 

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that. 

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together. 

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real. 

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want. 

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment. 

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky. 

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.  

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 2 starters

❝ in these books life seems so simple, but in reality… i can’t make head nor tail of it. ❞  ❝ listen to me. when the times comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of dying. ❞ ❝ i’m still standing, which is an improvement on the last time you saw me. ❞ ❝ i still think about you. that was...that was quite a time. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ your father would rather you did not do anything so foolish. ❞ ❝ forgiveness, well...it’s just an easy way of saying ‘i don’t care no more’. ❞ ❝ i know you like to hide behind the angry moron act, but it’s a thin enough veneer. ❞ ❝ when somebody doesn’t lie in this world and you don’t lie to them, then together you can achieve great things and destroy great powers. ❞ ❝ i remain a fool, and i’m sure i shall die a fool, but i’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve. ❞ ❝ i am always honest, maybe not always good, but i'm always honest. ❞ ❝ why you got that guilty look on your face? ❞ ❝ i trust i will not make a god awful fool of myself once more-- but somehow i imagine i shall. ❞ ❝ please don’t go to any trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ you ain’t gonna die. not yet. ❞ ❝ feels like things have changed...the whole world has changed. ❞ ❝ i feel like we haven’t spoken for days. ❞ ❝ we’re thieves in a world that don’t want us no more. ❞ ❝ we can’t change what’s done. we can only move on. ❞ ❝ just do one thing or the other. don’t try to be two people at once. ❞ ❝ we’re more ghosts than people. ❞ ❝ how can romance ever be silly? it’s all we have. ❞ ❝ vengeance is an idiot’s game. ❞ ❝ i don’t think we can go much further on the horses. ❞ ❝ i'm surprised we escaped at all. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me...but you’re more than that. ❞ ❝ this is a new low, even by your standards. ❞ ❝ i do my utmost to avoid you. ❞ ❝ i thought the whole point was that this had nothing to do with you? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry to complain. it’s just so... ❞ ❝ i need you now...more than ever. ❞ ❝ face me to the west so i can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way. ❞ ❝ do you ever miss home? must be hard, being so far away. ❞ ❝ you know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar. ❞ ❝ there’s a good man within you...but he is wrestling a giant. ❞ ❝ you saved my life. you’re a good man. ❞ ❝ there’s only one of me. i don’t intend for them to know i’m coming. ❞ ❝ i thought you were trying to make me feel better. ❞ ❝ be loyal to what matters. ❞ ❝ you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you squeal before. ❞ ❝ i'm miserable. been a tough few days. ❞ ❝ i trust your judgement. always have. ❞ ❝ i'm just gonna...have a little sit down and...feel sorry for myself. ❞ ❝ i tried. in the end. i did. ❞ ❝ one day, folk will take orders from me...and trust me, it won’t be no laughing matter. ❞ ❝ here, take a drink of this. ❞ ❝ seems like there ain’t much else in this world except bastards, victims of bastards and the bastards who want to put the bastards in the ground. ❞ ❝ we’ll get off this mountain soon enough. ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept in three days. ❞ ❝ just thought you might’ve moved on by now. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming for me. ❞ ❝ you got sad eyes...like you’ve seen sad things. ❞ ❝ you always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. ❞ ❝ you don’t hire a saint to catch a sinner. ❞ ❝ you’re alive! oh, you’re alive! ❞ ❝ go. now. i’ll hold them off. ❞ ❝ are you okay? i mean you no harm. ❞ ❝ i'm nobody. ❞ ❝ what about you? you doubting me too? ❞ ❝ it’s enough to make a man drink. or worse. ❞ ❝ i knew not to trust, yet i had no choice. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no more time to talk. go. ❞ ❝ thank you, for your strength. it means a lot to me. ❞ ❝ firstly, we ain’t friends. don’t make no mistake on that subject. ❞ ❝ i'm so bored i’d rather be shot. ❞ ❝ it’ll mean a lot to me...please. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful. ❞ ❝ the bond we share, it’s the most real thing to me. i would kill for it, i would happily die for it... ❞ ❝ life is full of pain. but there is also love, and beauty. ❞ ❝ my pa used to say you stare into the fire long enough you can see the whole world pass by. ❞ ❝ whenever we happen to meet, you’re always helping people and smiling. ❞ ❝ do as you’re goddamn told. and shoot well. ❞ ❝ i guess he never outgrew his anger. kind of like you. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ you’re driven by powerful forces i scarcely understand. ❞ ❝ oh you fool. you sad, deluded fool. torn in two by different ideas of who you were, and it turns out you weren't neither of them. ❞ ❝ well, i think you’re as slippery as an eel in an oil slick, but still a man/woman. ❞ ❝ with you watching over me, i’d walk into hell itself. ❞ ❝ lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have. ❞ ❝ when i was your age, i fought. i saw death. i have killed. ❞ ❝ i wish things were different. but it weren’t us who changed. ❞ ❝ nobody’s taking anything from me ever again. ❞ ❝ some jobs aren’t for saving and some legacies are for pissing on. ❞ ❝ you're my favorite parasite... no, wait, ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second-favorite parasite... i lied. ringworm, then, rats with the plague, then you. ❞ ❝ just leave it to me. i can talk a dog off a meat wagon. ❞ ❝ forgive me if i slip and stab you in the face. ❞ ❝ this place, ain’t no such thing as civilized. it’s man so in love with greed, that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites. ❞ ❝ shut up...you know, you’re not very nice to me. ❞ ❝ the amount of hell we’ve raised, we’re owed some back. ❞ ❝ i haven’t done anything wrong aside of not playing the games to your rules. ❞ ❝ don’t let yourself get killed...for pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folk. ❞ ❝ when you fall, there’ll be a party. ❞ ❝ every day i didn’t kill you, is a day i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i can’t kill them all silently so, when they chase me, you go the other way. ❞ ❝ does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you? ❞ ❝ usually i’m worse than the wolves. ❞ ❝ i don’t have to be careful. i have you as a friend. ❞ ❝ i wish i had acquired wisdom at less of a price. ❞ ❝ they’re chasing us hard, because we represent everything they fear. ❞ ❝ you know all that mattered to me was loyalty? it was all i ever believed in. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d say this but...it’s good to see you. ❞ ❝ we’ve all lived bad lives. we all sin...but i know you. ❞ ❝ i kill people. and maybe i should’ve killed you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you a sorry sight? ❞ ❝ your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them. ❞ ❝ some big, loud mouthed bastard tried to rob me when i was out riding so i... well, you know how it is. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no shame in looking for a better world. ❞ ❝ i can hunt, carry a knife, and use a gun. ❞   ❝ ...is it too late for us? ❞ ❝ if the purpose of life was to be liked...it would be very boring indeed. ❞ ❝ i’ve been running for as long as i can remember. ❞     ❝ they turned me into a monster. ❞   ❝ i always wondered if i was unlucky...but maybe i’m just not very good. ❞ ❝ don’t kill yourself over pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folks. ❞ ❝ sorry if i seem a little desperate. i am a little desperate. ❞ ❝ if anyone gets close to me, they’re wanted too. and i can’t have you wrapped up in that. ❞ ❝ there’s all kinds of nasty people who want to speak to you. ❞ ❝ they won’t hear anything about you from me. ❞ ❝ tell me about you, darling and armed to the teeth like that. ❞ ❝ i also...found out some unsettling news about you. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to say it...thank you. ❞ ❝ you...don’t like me much, do you? ❞ ❝ i can’t lie to you. i’m a wanted man. ❞ ❝ that’s quite a scratch you got there. ❞ ❝ take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❞ ❝ i’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. ❞ ❝ where are you? can you hear me? ❞ ❝ i think someone saw some wolves, not far away. you should watch out. ❞ ❝ guess all i got now is doubt. doubts and scars. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t me who went and shot him. ❞ ❝ will you dance with me? ❞ ❝ i like you. you’ve got a kind face. ❞ ❝ i’m not a good man. not usually. ❞ ❝ there’s a lot i should’ve done and even more i shouldn’t have done. ❞ ❝ you are a compulsive liar. ❞ ❝ next time, i’ll slit your throat myself. ❞ ❝ as long as we get paid or you get shot, i’m happy. ❞ ❝ i'm not designed for this snow. ❞ ❝ you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. ❞ ❝ shut up you silly man and kiss me. ❞ ❝ who made you the messiah of these poor souls you’ve led so horribly astray? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s a sign. try to do the good thing. ❞ ❝ how many times do i gotta bury you? ❞ ❝ you are the only feller who could get half of their brain eaten by wolves and end up more intelligent. ❞ ❝ five thousand dollars? for me? can i turn myself in? ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging. ❞     ❝ we ain’t both gonna make it. ❞ ❝ i gave you all i had. i did. ❞ ❝ if we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run. if we must die, we’ll die. but…we’ll stay free. ❞ ❝ people call me lazy. i’m not lazy, just don’t like working. there’s a difference. ❞ ❝ i guess...i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ oh, i didn’t know i was talking to a lady. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel too good. ❞ ❝ you have finally lost your mind. ❞

[redroomwidows]

Wildest Dreams | F.W

SUMMARY: They’re in a war, everyone’s life is on the line and Fred doesn’t want Y/n to forget him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: fluff, but then angst. canon character death...not described, but there’s some grief. 

A/N: This is my second piece for @gcdric​’s Taylor Swift writing challenge! This fic doesn’t follow the song as much as Mr. Perfectly Fine did, it’s very much a looser interpretation of it. I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

fun fact! I’ve never actually written for Fred before, so this may be really ooc. I’m apologiding in advance lol but hopefully it’s not too ooc!

Fred Weasley x fem! reader

‘Say you'll remember me’

It was quiet. 

Silent even. Usually, this would worry Y/n, but today, today it was calming and was a reminder that neither her nor Fred were in imminent danger. Their shared bedroom had rays of sunlight beaming through the curtains and Y/n almost blamed herself for not shutting them properly when she first woke up because of the light on her eyes. Almost. Because when she rolled over, she realised the sunlight let her see Fred’s sleeping face and let her admire the bronze and gold mixed amidst the ginger of his hair.

“Mornin’ love,” he croaks and Y/n smiles slightly, of course he wasn’t actually asleep

“Morning,” Fred slowly opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow slightly

“Were you watching me?”

“Maybe,” 

“Weirdo,” he tries to stay serious, but a wide smile breaks through and he scoots closer to his fiancé, snuggling into her shoulder “What were you thinking about?”

“Hm, nothing,”

“So, you were just staring at me?” Fred knew when she was thinking, he always had.

“Fine,” Y/n sighs “I was thinking about how pretty you are,”

“Pretty?” Fred raises his head from her shoulder and looks her in the eyes “You mean handsome,”

“Nope,” she pops the p “pretty,” then kisses his nose, something she knew he hated.

“No, handsome,” he insists

“Pretty,” Y/n sings and Fred raises his hands up in a tickling motion

“Say I’m handsome,”

“Pretty,” she repeats and starts laughing even before Fred’s touched her, and when he does and starts moving his finger around, she laughs louder, kicking about “Stop!”

“Say I’m handsome!”

“Freddie!”

“Say it!” he keeps tickling her and when she starts to struggle to breathe, she shouts out: 

“Fine! Fine! Handsome! I was thinking you were handsome!” he stops and Y/n lays still for a moment, breathing deeply and Fred watches, his elbow squashed into the bed as he holds his head in his hand. 

Eventually, Y/n regains her breath and leans in to whisper in Fred’s ear “Pretty,”. He doesn’t tickle her this time, just smiles fondly as she giggles to herself, staring up at the ceiling. He’d let her have this one, in fact if he himself wasn’t so stubborn, he’d let her win every time. He liked her like this, calm and happy, unable to keep a smile off her face. He wanted to see her like this forever.

“Let’s run away,” 

“What?” Y/n turns to Fred, eyes still glassy from his ‘attack’

“Let’s run away,” he repeats, but he can tell Y/n is still confused “leave here and find a cottage in the woods or something,”

“Fred… are you being serious?”

“Yes!” Fred smiles and excitement floods his voice “Bill and Fleur did it, why can't we?”

“We’re not Bill and Fleur,” Y/n says in disbelief, not sure if Fred was joking or not “they have a baby on the way, your future niece or nephew,”

“Yours to,” Fred gestures to the ring on her left finger proudly. He’d proposed their first year out of Hogwarts, Molly had said it was too soon but when Death Eater attacks became more frequent, she was happy to see her son so happy. She also knew Fred wouldn’t listen to her anyway. He loved Y/n L/n and he would marry her anywhere, anytime. But soon preferably. He adored the idea of being able to say ‘my wife’ and he wanted to call her Mrs Weasley and come up with a whole new branch of nicknames for her based on her new status. But he had to wait, he could do that.

“Our future niece or nephew,” she corrects, “and you and George have the shop,”

“It’s not even open at the moment,” Fred mutters quietly, knowing Y/n was right, but still wanting to believe for a minute more that they could leave “Please?”

“You know we can’t go…” Y/n takes a deep breath as the somewhat jokey conversation becomes serious “we’re gonna be needed…” she looks left and out the window, holding a hand over her stomach.

“I know,” Fred smiles, putting his hand over Y/n’s “Can’t blame me for being in love with ya,”

“Guess I can’t,” Y/n smiles with him as she remembers the last time he said that to her.

It was their last year at Hogwarts and George and Fred had finally grown tired of Umbridge. They haven’t fully told Y/n the plan, but she knew they weren’t coming back. Fred had minutes to say goodbye before him and George had to set the plan into the motion, and he was grabbing Y/n’s hands so tightly she thought the circulation might never come back.

“Come with us,” he whispers and she looks down, smiling lightly

“You know I can’t,”

“Why not?”

“My parents would kill me,” she laughs and presses a kiss to his lips, whispering into them “You would kill me,”

“I would,” he nods “What are you thinking, throwing away your future for a boy?”

“A ginger one nonetheless!” Y/n gasps, playing along

“Oi!” George shouts from behind a door and Y/n laughs as Fred shouts out to him

“Stop eavesdropping you prat!” shuffling is heard and Y/n gazes at Fred again, trying to memorise his face before he leaves.

“Promise you’ll write?”

“Of course. You can hear everything about mine and Georgie’s experiments and how I came up with all of the ideas” Y/n would laugh, but all she can manage is an amused brow raise

“And you’ll be here for graduation?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he nods “Promise,” There’s a knock on the door, a signal Fred needed to go.

“I love you,” Y/n says quickly

“I love you too,” They share one more kiss and Fred whispers into her lips “Come with me?”

“Fred!”

“Can’t blame me for being in love with ya!” with that, he gives her hands a final squeeze before leaving, giving her a wink as he shuts the door. 

“Y/n…” Fred waves a hand over her eyes “you there?”

“Hm?” she turns back to him

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she rolls onto her right side so she can look at him properly “You?” Fred seems to be thinking about his answer and Y/n puts her left hand over his shoulder, rubbing soft circles on the soft cotton of his t-shirt “Freddie?”

“We’re gonna be needed,” he repeats her earlier statement slowly “And when we are, something may happen to me...If I don’t make it -”

“Fred!” Y/n’s eyes widen, completely not expecting such a sombre topic to come up on a Wednesday morning, especially after such a somewhat cheery morning “Can we please not, not now?”

“I need to say it Y/n, I need to get it off my chest, I’ve been thinking about it for days,” he had been acting differently, he’d been quieter at dinner and seemed to want to cling to her and George more, talking about going to the Burrow when it was safe to. So maybe that’s why she gave in, or maybe it was the soft ‘please’ he muttered afterwards that he paired with pleading eyes.  She could never deny him, not when he looked like that, so sad.

“Okay,”

“If I don’t survive…” he keeps pausing and Y/n supposes that if she was talking about the same thing, she would do the same “I want you to remember me, I want you to remember us -”

“Of course, I’m going to remember you!” Y/n couldn’t believe he’d think she’d ever forget him.

“I know! I just need you to promise. Promise you’ll remember me and us. Promise me you’ll remember when we used to wake up at god knows when just to watch the sunrise and when the sun used to set in summer and we’d just lay out by the lake. Because you always talked about how it calmed you. I want you to remember how you used to write crap poetry and dramatically read to me and I could never really tell if you were joking or not, so I didn’t laugh and you always thought I was annoyed with you,”

Y/n feels a bit hot in the face at the mention of that, she was just a tad bit embarrassed. 

“Promise me you’ll remember the sunrises, the sunsets, the parties and the snogging but also promise me you’ll remember this, lazy mornings in bed, cooking together and cuddling. And promise me you’ll see me again, even if it’s in a Quidditch portrait at school or photos around the flat, or memories or dreams. Promise me you’ll remember me?”

“I promise,” she whispers, kissing him slowly “But don’t worry about it too much. Neither of us have to worry, because you’re not dying. Not on my watch,”. Fred smiles and in seconds, the subject seemed to be forgotten as he bops his fiancé’s nose and starts a conversation about what their brunch should be.

Y/n remembered that conversation now as she stood in a graveyard, staring down at what would have been her future husband's tombstone where she’d recently placed some flowers, right next to George’s. 

She remembered the sunrises,

“Freddie...I’m too tired for this…”

“Promise me, it’ll all be worth it love,”

and the sunsets, 

“Are you okay?”

“No... but just, watch this with me,”

 the parties,

“You have had far too much to drink,”

“Y/n! I missed you!”

“I just went to the loo,”

“Yeah, but I love you!”

 the snogging,

“Fred...we cannot be doing this here,”

“Shhhh, tell me you don’t get a little bit of satisfaction from doing this in Snape’s classroom,”

 and the lazy mornings in bed, cooking together and cuddling. 

“I love you,”

“Are you talking to me or the pancakes I just brought you?”

 “Y/n, it’s on fire!”

“What?!”

“Joking…”

“You twat!”

 “We should get up…”

“No! Stay here, just a bit longer,”

 She remembered everything. She would never forget and while she may only ever be able to be with Fred in her dreams, she still loved him more than anything. She’d be with him someday, when it was her time to go. 

 ‘Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams’

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