#oh wait i just remembered Ring Shout and how that aspect didn’t bother me at all

[jeezypetes]

Hmmm i don’t think i like it when historical fiction has for real magic in it bc theres a part of my brain that won’t stop saying That didn’t happen. If magic was real back then things would’ve turned out differently

[dast218]

Assassin’s Heart pt 2

Part 1

Dodging and aiming for a high punch, Jason, or currently better known as Red Hood, let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as he kept failing in pinning Damian down. The little Demon has been keeping up with his attacks for the past twenty minutes with no sign of sweat, frustrating Jason to no ends.

“Hood you should spare yourself the embarrassment once you land face first on the platform.” 

Canceling out the cheers Jason mouthed “bring it on little brother”, receiving a tisk and a full force punch in his ribs. Stumbling back, the cladded in blood red and black vigilant continued the taunting, aiming to distract the little demon until he leaves a side unguarded.

Rolling onto his side, Jason avoided becoming a punching bag and swung his feet under Daman’s. The urge to pull out a gun started to become unbearable.  

Huffing in irrigation, he couldn’t up but wonder how the heck he got pulled into this shit-show. Being an attraction and following guidelines was borderline neglect. Why do people find throwing hands so fun to watch, like I am trying to kill someone not liberate them. 

He should probably mention that the rules of this match were borderline neglect: No weapons, no killing, make it entertaining and keep up the distraction.  

All because of a stupid bet.

Oh right context:

Damian and Jason found themselves on opposite sides of a bet. The typical bickering in the noble house of the Waynes had gotten out of control, ending with blood and knives scattered at every inch of the dining room. The argument over who had the rightful claim of the newly  golden trimmed weapons escalated, and in hopes of calming down the tension a bet was made. Whoever wins will get their prized possessions. 

Who in their rightful mind thought that a bet would calm down the Waynes boys? Dick ficking Gayson, that's who. 

But of course things couldn’t go smoothly. That would have gone against the whole lifestyle of the Waynes, and the universe just wasn’t yet prepared. Honestly speaking, it probably will never be. Scoffing, Jason dodged another  kick and started recalling the series of unfortunate events that got them in a fighting pit of all places. Somewhere along the lines he ended up going to the market in hopes of interrupting an illegal shipment of gunpowder. He couldn’t have the guy come in 2 days before his placed bet. Then the Demon would win and that was simply not happening under his watch. And yes for all those wondering, they placed a bet about a delivery date, the most sane thing the Bats did in a very long time. 

Arriving at the scene, to Jason’s utter disappointment, the youngest Wayne was already perched on the side of a rooftop.

“How?”

Ginning, Damian curtly answered “Alfred.” 

Before Jason could counter Damian’s response (like he could ever go against the Alfred argument), shouting and cursing erupted in the streets below.

From there the details blurred. One moment they heard the dealer screaming that his lot got stolen and the next they were down breaking apart a fight. Hidden under masks -hey living the noble life is way too boring- the Bat boys dealt with the situation fairly quickly. They found out that the dealer was only left with a few scraps of powder, meaning that Damian won. 

Jason couldn’t believe that the brat had his toys and on top of that is currently beating him in the ring. Why couldn’t Bruce just dump the little rotten back to his mother. Curse his adoptive nature. Even if the brat is his, that man adopts too many!

Anyways upon further questioning, people claimed to see a woman in black running around the city. At first Jason didn’t make anything of it, as that was not the weirdest thing they witnessed in Gotham. A few hours later the news of Malnesias lord’s murder reached the manor, prompting the lord of Gotham to send the noble houses into action. With a lead from a few drunk soldiers and traveling merchants, the undercover Waynes found themselves on a trip to the Kingdom of Adan.

While traveling, Damian slipped information that he had personal business with this infamous Shadow girl, who a few months ago decided that releasing his herd of sheep from their “prison” - as she put it in a lovely letter -  was a good idea. The Wayne boys kept snickering every few miles, everyone understanding why and joining along. Heck, Jason was dying of laughter even hours after the reveal. 

That was a week and a half ago. 

Somehow getting more information on this Shadow woman required creating a distraction. And that's how he found himself currently throwing a punch to Damian’s ribs. 

-- 

It was way too early to deal with the wants of the king. On the other side of Marinette’s wooden door someone - by the sounds of it her maid - has been knocking for the last five minutes with no success. 

“Madam please open up. You are going to be late for breakfast!” With a barely recognizable sigh she added, “Again”

Slightly smiling at the display of distraught, Marinette flipped onto her side, simultaneously pulling the gray cover over her face. Today is my sleep in day. 

The next thing she registered were two sets of arms grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up onto her feet. Grumbling at the force, Marinnete yielded and allowed the girls to circle around her. She learned a long time ago that when facing a group of determined women, it's better to let them have their way. Thinking otherwise would have called her a hypocrite in ten different languages. 

Looking at the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the person staring back at her. The tight blue dress hung her body, enhancing her curves and muscles. From a distance you could see that the material is expensive, sparking in the sunlight with a delicate touch. She knew that someone with her status had to look appropriate, but dressing all lady-like wasn’t at all her style. I can’t wait to change into a running outfit after this fiasco is over with. 

Heading to the dining room her vision started to blur, with each step requiring more energy than the last. Marinette couldn’t help but grunt as she felt herself losing balance. Leaning against a wall, she tried to steady her breathing. In and out. In and out.

After a few counts, the lightheadedness disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving Marinette confused. Her headaches were getting worse by the day but each time she tried remembering why, the feeling of losing control came back. It was like something was blocking her memory. Frustrated, the blue dressed assassin continued walking. 

Entering into the ridiculously expensive dining room, Marinette met eyes with the King. Without a second glance she sat down, thanked the server and started eating. The King was never the talkative type and with the morning she had, she didn’t feel like talking either. 

After a while the emptiness started to bother her and with a lift of her head, she asked  “Where is Adrien.” Marinette didn’t know what prompted her to ask as his whereabouts never interested her to begin with, especially after their argument few weeks ago. Matter of factly, staying away from the golden hair men was on her daily to do list.

“You mean Prince Adrien”

“No, you heard it right the first time”

“He came in drunk yesterday.” Gabriel finally said, short and indirect as usual. Fine two can play that game.

Humming in response, the assassin pushed her plate and lifted her legs to the table, her heals hitting the metal with a clack. She didn’t care if her actions were unladylike or down right rude. Leaning back and crossing her hands she irritatingly got to the point.  

“Look Gab, I am in no mood to play along with your games today. Its way to early to deal with your pesky attitude.” Hearing few gasps she grumbled, apparently all it took was a few weeks out and suddenly everyone forgets that she doesn’t care what comes out of her mouth.  Gezz cut me some slack, like hello I could have still been enjoying my sleep if this guy with a crown hadn’t woke me up. 

“What the heck do you want from me?”

------ 

Finally done with school and got the plot down!

Disclaimer I got inspo from the Throne of Glass book series, just putting it out there. (Assassin’s Heart won’t be similar in many aspects butttt ... yea just letting you guys know)

Tag List:   @thestressmademedoit @dreamykitty25 @loveswifi 

​ @dorkus-minimus - not sure if u wanted to be tagged or not, let me know :)

[kim-seungmine]

love you right

title: love you right

characters : reader x seo changbin of stray kids (ft. yang jeongin)

genres: angst, i wouldn’t call this fluff but this is sweet, soulmate au, roommate au, filmmaker!changbin.

synopsis: have you ever wondered whether your soulmate would still love you if you weren’t destined to be together? because in a world where everyone has someone who’s meant for them, what matters isn’t finding them, but what happens next.

warnings: cursing 

word count: 6969

a/n: I FINALLY finished this! It turned out to be shorter than my expectation but i think it’s still okay. After 1000 words or so I just realized that Changbin’s “If” probably inspired me. like i said before, i’m pretty sure i broke like 10 rules of soulmate au so please forgive me. 

The sound of shutters is accompanied by the audience’s cheers. You take a glance at the television, watching the artist in spotlight bow deeply. You feel Jeongin’s eyes on you before averting your gaze back to the customer in front of you. “Here’s the change. Thank you for coming!” you exclaim, seeing Jeongin frantically looking for the TV remote from your peripheral vision.

“We’ve been waiting for this one since last year, and he’s finally back with a full album. Let’s welcome, Bang Chan!”

“First of all, Chan, congratulations on your wedding!” the MC chirps and Chan blushes. “We were all shocked when you told everyone you’re married last week. Mind to share how you met your soulmate?”

Jeongin is mouthing profanities now, opening the drawers as quiet as possible. You, meanwhile, are glued to the screen. “I’d rather not talk about this at a public event, so I’ll keep this brief. I met my soulmate during a party, and then the timer on my wrist stopped. That’s when I knew,” he shares.

“Go to hell,” Jeongin spites as he finally finds the remote and shuts the television off. “Don’t watch this shit.”

“It’s okay. It’s how things are supposed to be,” you respond flatly. Your best friend points at your fingers, which are balled into fists without you realizing. “I’m fine!” you convince him. “In fact, I’m glad I don’t have to see that goddamn timer ticking anymore. And going on dates in secret was such a pain in the ass.”

Throughout your 1-year relationship with Chan, you never felt at ease. Movies and novels always make having soulmates seem like something beautiful, but in fact, it’s a headache. Everyone in the whole world has different soulmate things. Some are color blind until they meet their soulmate, some has timers like Chan’s and some others have the first words their soulmates say to them inked on their arms. It can take someone years before they find their special one, and when they do, they’re willing to do anything to be with that person.

Technically, it wasn’t Chan fault that he left you for his soulmate, but everytime you recall the time he broke up with you, your blood boils.

All the beautiful memories, all the struggles you had overcome… everything meant nothing.

“Changbin’s coming in a minute,” Jeongin informs. “Have you thought about it yet?”

When you asked Jeongin to find you a quiet and responsible roommate, you didn’t mean Seo Changbin. It’s not that you two don’t get along, but Changbin has a tendency to be very snarky towards you and it’s kind of annoying (and intimidating, but you will never admit that). College and part-time job have made you tired enough, you don’t need to deal with a scowling Changbin and his sharp mouth when you get home. What surprises you more, however, is the fact that the boy approves of you.

“Don’t think too much,” Jeongin says as he wipes the counter table. “You want a quiet and responsible roommate, plus you don’t have to pay as much as you do now. Changbin fulfills both of your conditions, what else could you ask for?”

You put the last cheesecake inside the display counter, loving how fluffy and cheesy it looks. It also happens Changbin’s favorite menu, though he doesn’t strike you as someone who would love cheesecake. Great, out of all things, that’s what you remember about him? “What are Changbin’s conditions then?”

Someone enters the café, ending your conversation with Jeongin who quickly dashes back to his station, but not before whispering, “He just wants you.”

“Jeongin-ah I’m hungry!”

There’s still an hour before closing time, but all the customers have left and now there’s only Changbin on the table near the window, brainstorming for his screenplay. You heave a sigh and takes out a plate from the drawer. You’re the barista for today, why does he pretend like you don’t exist?

You put the plate on the table and ring the bell, causing Changbin to look up from his notebook. “Oh, it’s you, Y/N.” He gets up from his seat, approaching the counter while opening his wallet. “What do you want to eat?”

Changbin examines the display counter, frowning as he browses through the available menus. You notice him panicking a bit as he scans the second row. “I’ll take—”

“It’s okay,” you mutter. “Take your time. I won’t rush you.”

He slowly nods, continuing to read the cakes’ labels one by one before settling on his favorite menu.

“Are you sure you want me as your roommate?” you ask, putting the last slice of cheesecake on the plate. Changbin looks almost flustered, and you feel a bit proud of yourself. He always seems to be very in control of every aspect of his life, so seeing him a bit taken aback because of you feels satisfying.

Changbin starts slicing his cake, not bothering to return to his table. “I mean, why not?” he says. “I know you already and if Jeongin decides that you’re not crazy, then I believe him.”

“You feel that you know… me?”

He shrugs, lifting his eyebrows at the younger boy as the latter comes out from the pantry. “You’re Jeongin’s best friend, an English major, and he said you’re never late for anything—especially rent.”

“You hate morning shifts!” Jeongin shouts.

“You ranked first in your batch, right?” Changbin continues.

“Y/N hates bananas.”

“You love pizza—wait what you hate bananas?”

“I don’t hate them but bananas are definitely my least favorite.”

“Whoa that’s amazing.”

Changbin goes on to list everything he knows about you with Jeongin’s help, sometimes correcting each other although you’re still with them. You get to see Seo Changbin giggling for the first time, and maybe you want to see it more often.

“When are you going to move in?” he asks after helping Jeongin clean the tables. He’s back to the cool, almost cold Changbin, but you tell yourself to take the risk.

“How about this weekend?”

“Awesome.”

You plop yourself onto your bed, staring at the ceiling of your room that used to be Jeongin’s. It’s Saturday, but all you can think about is your reading assignment and other tasks. Changbin knocks on the slightly ajar door, carefully peeking inside.

“I ordered dinner,” he informs. “It’ll be here soon.”

It’s only been a few hours, but so far Changbin is much better than your old roommate. He helped you unpack quietly (he did make some hurtful comments about your dreamcatcher collection, but you could handle it), gave a space for your cactuses in the living room, and let you decide the menu for dinner.

The bell rings soon after, and now both of you are enjoying a pot of kimchi jjigae. “Are you sad that Jeongin’s not here anymore?” you attempt to start a conversation. Changbin snorts, glancing around the flat. “I’m glad he’s not here anymore,” he answers in a fake mocking tone. “He always wakes me up too early.”

You nod, remembering the painful memory that is your school retreat back in fifth grade. Jeongin was the dorm leader and he forced everyone to sleep early only to wake all of you an hour earlier. “I hope his soulmate will be able to live with that,” you laugh.

Changbin’s ears perk up at the word soulmate, clearing his throat as you look at him in confusion. “You’re still here,” you point out. “I figure you haven’t met your soulmate yet?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, slurping his soup in one go. Love is probably too lame for Changbin, and while you’re never really obsessed in finding your true love yourself, his response makes you feel like someone pricks your heart with a needle. “Never really tried looking for them, to be honest. How about you?”

“You mean, do I want to find my soulmate?

Changbin places his bowl back to the table, his lips a bit red due to the spicy soup, and you almost want to laugh. “The idea of having a soulmate is beautiful, I suppose,” you answer. “But I’m fine with the way things are now, it’s not like I’m desperate or something. We’re still young anyways.”

“Do you believe in it? That there’s someone in this world who’s specially meant for you and only you?”

His question intrigue your interest; you’ve never met someone who’s doubting the concept of soulmates. But then again, this is Changbin. He’s the only person you know who has never asked about your soulmate bond. “Well, people do meet their soulmates, don’t they? I guess I’ve never had a chance to doubt it, because it’s there. People have soulmates, it happens.”

“There’s one thing that’s been bothering me for quite a while, though,” you add. Changbin sits up straighter at your statement, and suddenly you wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him. You never share this with anyone—not even Jeongin—because you don’t want to be such a killjoy. Besides, you know how their reaction will be: they’ll think you’re a pathetic pessimist who probably will never meet your soulmate.

“You can trust me.” His voice sounds light, but the weight in his words feel real. Changbin flashes you one of his rare smiles (you’re pretty sure you saw it on his birthday last year) and you gain a surge of confidence.

“Do couples simply love each other because they’re soulmates?” Your voice is almost a whisper, but Changbin raises his eyebrow, encouraging you to continue. “Having opinion is not a crime, Y/N. What are you so afraid for?” he deadpans, but his gaze remains warm and it kind of messes with your whole system.

“I mean, a lot of us date other people before meeting our soulmates,” you continue. “It’s like, you have feelings for one person, but all of those feelings vanish just like that when you meet your soulmates. How is that possible? Are you being with your soulmate because you love them? Or do you love them simply because they’re your soulmate?”

You’re met with silence as Changbin only stares at you in… awe? That’s probably not it but you swear to God his eyes twinkle, boring into yours and making you blush due to the intensity. You almost feel disappointed when he tears his eyes away from you before gathering the empty plates.

“Let me wash the dishes tonight. This is your housewarming gift,” he mumbles, heading to the sink. You watch his back in silence, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his humming and the water. As you’re about to close your eyes, he looks over his shoulder.

“What’s your soulmate thing?” he asks.

“Soulmate thing?”

“Shit, I forgot the term—the one sign that makes you realize that you’ve met your soulmate.”

You give him a sleepy smile, closing your eyes when he starts humming again. Gotta ask what that song is later.

“Once my soulmate tells me they love me, I’ll stop having nightmares.”

You want to ask Changbin what his soulmate bond is, but sleep has taken over you before you can voice it out.

What Seo Changbin knows about the world is the fact that nothing is certain. Sure, the Sun rises in the East and the Earth is round, but what about the other things? The human beings? He’s seen so many people walked out of his life, he’s witnessed the most hurtful lies and changes.

Changbin has seen enough to know that trust is overrated. You can’t trust anyone, not even your loyal pet. What happened last night, though, was beyond his imagination. Him telling you that you could trust him?

He was so close to take back what he said, but seeing the tiny sparks of hope and confidence in your eyes made his heart do somersaults. God, if only you knew how much power you have over him…

“It’s barely 10AM and you’re already being productive.” Your voice greets him, snapping him out of his daydream. “What are you working on?” you ask, pouring fresh milk into your glass. Changbin collects all his papers as you sit beside him.

“Sorry for all the mess,” he apologizes. “Jeongin and I never used this table so I always work here.”

You shake your head, glancing at his laptop screen before suddenly pulling away, as if you just did something inappropriate. “No, it’s okay, you can see,” he quickly says, sliding his laptop to you. Changbin suddenly recalls all the moments he shoved Jeongin away because he hates it when people read his stuff before it’s finished.

You’ve been here for less than 2 days but he’s already breaking so many of his own rules.

“Yeah. My graduation project. My ride or die.”

Changbin is lost in his own world after that. You’re still sitting there, debating with yourself if you should stay. Roommate-Changbin may still intimidate you, but Director-Changbin only excites you. You want to know what’s on his mind, how he pours his questions and views about the world into his films.

You don’t notice that he’s stopped typing and is now watching you. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“O-oh!” you yelp, instantly regretting the shock in your voice. “I’m just wondering…” you trail off.

“Yeah?” Changbin waits for you patiently, holding your gaze.

“Can I watch you work? I promise I’ll stay quiet.”

“I started writing this 3 years ago,” Changbin shares. “Somehow I could never writing the perfect ending, nothing felt right. I thought maybe I should use this as my graduation project.” He laughs, “So I could force myself to end the story.”

“What is it about?”

Changbin doesn’t answer you right away, staring at his laptop screen instead. He thinks long and hard—something he does often that infuriates Jeongin, but you’ve come to appreciate it. “Loneliness. Cliché, I know, and that’s why I’ve been struggling.”

He stops to take another sip of his coffee. “About whether it’s better to just be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s cliché,” you reply. “It’s something everyone has to deal with for the rest of their lives. It’s familiar. Important.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t know how to end it!”

“Then just say so.”

Changbin shakes his head before deleting a whole paragraph he previously typed. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be. People want answers.”

That shuts you up. You may be an English major, but this is Changbin’s field. And it’s his work, not yours. “Sorry. I crossed the line, didn’t I?”

“Nonono, you’re right,” he mutters. “Maybe I should try.”

“No, Changbin, this is just my opinion. You don’t need to—“

“And do you want to be the main character? I think you understand the material well, and this role suits you.”

Rejection is already on the tip of your tongue, but the way Changbin’s eyes twinkle is clouding your brain. He continues to stare at you as you’re debating with yourself, and when you meet his eyes, you melt. The cool, almost cold Seo Changbin is asking you for a favor, and while you’re not obligated to fulfill his wishes just because he’s suddenly nice to you… you want to.

He yells when you finally give him a firm nod, averting his eyes back to his laptop. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you with everything. I’ll finish this soon, okay?”

Once again you can only nod, admiring the small smile on his lips.

“You agreed to what?!” Jeongin shouts, resulting in you smacking his lips with your hand. “Shut the hell up we’re in the library!” you hissed as you bow in apology to all the people sending you death glares.

“Just man up and admit that you’re so whipped for Seo Changbin!” Jeongin has closed his book and is now trying to close yours as well. “Come on, tell me the details! All the embarrassing cheesy details!” he pesters.

The librarian has cleared her throat thrice in the past 5 minutes and you’re sure that means you’re going to get kicked out soon. You sigh at Jeongin, who takes this as a sign that you want to leave. He gladly put all your things back into your bag, dragging you out of the library with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

You don’t know if you like Changbin. Maybe you do, but maybe you’re just missing the feeling of having someone. “I don’t know,” you mumble, sitting on the bench across the library. “Everytime I think about Chan I still want to cry, I still want to curse the hell out of him for ending things a day after he told me that he loved me.”

“Maybe things are going to be different this time,” Jeongin tells you. “Try to see him as Seo Changbin, not as the next Bang Chan.”

“Once you do, you’ll be able to see Changbin clearly.”

Everything has started to feel lighter.

You never remember your nightmares anymore even though you’re well aware that you still get them. And you have someone to go home with after your classes or your shift at the café now that you live with Changbin. Jeongin never shuts up about it, constantly pointing out that Changbin likes you better than him because he’s always with you.

And tonight is no exception.

“Hyung, why are you still here?” he asks, pretending to be curious.

“I’m working, leave me alone,” the older boy says flatly, not even glancing up from his laptop.

“Oh Y/N you’re done?!”Jeongin exclaims.

Changbin quickly closes his laptop, searching for you before he realizes that his friend is messing around with him. Jeongin laughs hard, patting Changbin’s shoulder as he dashes to you. “Finish up quickly, your boyfriend is waiting for you!”

“You’re such a dumbass,” you retort, wiping the counter one last time. You glance at Changbin who’s now looking at you, his lips curling into a soft smile when your eyes meet. Sometimes you really think that he’s into you, and you can never get used to that.

“I’m done anyways,” you inform. Jeongin’s phone buzzes, his face lights up as the name of his soulmate rolls out of his lips. He gives both of you a quick wave and leaves as you lock the door. You chuckle at the sight of Jeongin running to the bus stop. “He’s so in love.”

“He smiles all the time now it’s scary,” Changbin adds.

“Well I guess that’s the magic of being with someone you love.” you mumble. “And being with someone who loves you.”

Changbin’s breath hitches at your statement, causing you to eye him. “What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Have you ever wondered where your soulmate is?”

No matter how much Changbin has changed around you, hearing him talk about soulmates is still one of the weirdest things ever. You two can talk about anything, except this. The whole soulmate talk always reminds you that he’s not yours, that whatever you have now will end when he finds his soulmate or when you find yours.

“Of course. Especially because of the nightmares,” you admit. “But then I realized that I was looking for my soulmate with the wrong purpose. I mean, you shouldn’t want to find your soulmate just because you want your problems solved, right?”

“Are you still talking to Bang Chan?”

Besides Jeongin and Changbin, no one else knows about you and Chan. When you just started dating, Jeongin asked so many things about him, but Changbin never said anything. Not even a congratulation.

“How do you know that we broke up?”

You wince as soon as that question rolls out of your mouth. “Fuck. Of course you do. He got married.”

“Sorry,” he sighs. “Forget it.”

“No, it’s fine,” you interject. “Why did you ask?”

“I saw him picking you up at campus once. It was already super late,” Changbin reveals. “He was dressed in all black—with mask, cap and all that… celebrities-in-disguise attire.” You chuckle at his choice of words, causing his cheeks to slowly turn pinkish.

“You could barely did anything freely, yet you looked happy Y/N,” he continues. There’s a long silence afterwards as because you can’t figure out whether he could possibly mean. With each day you spend together, you feel his wall crumbling. You love it so much that you’re afraid one small mistake will destroy everything.

Changbin takes a deep breath, biting his lip as you finally have enough courage to look into his eyes. “What can I do to make you smile like that?” His whisper is soft but determined. Genuine.

Right in this moment, something in your heart clicks. Seo Changbin has you under his spell, enticing you with his words, his action, his heart.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” you blurt out.

“Excuse me?!”

“Not like that,” you laugh. “Just stay until I’m asleep. Maybe the nightmares will be less scary.”

They won’t, but you’re not planning to tell him that.

You just want to see him as you fall asleep.

“Don’t you want to sit here?” you offer, patting the empty space beside you. Changbin smiles from his spot on the floor, right beside the bedside table. “I want you to sleep well Y/N. The two of us won’t fit in there,” he politely rejects although his brain is screaming at him to take the offer. There’s nothing he wants more than wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tight all night, whispering pretty words in your ear all night long so you will see rainbows in your dream, but maybe he still needs to wait.

Or he can just say that he loves you now.

“Good night, Changbin. Thank you for doing this.”

“Anything for you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“I’m not taking it back, though,” he singsongs. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You grin, wrapping yourself with your blanket. “I’ll try.”

A few hours later, you wake up with a jolt, panting hard as the horror of the nightmare you just had leaving you. After downing a glass of water on the bedside table, you try to recall what you dreamed of. It’s strange, you think to yourself. Back then, one nightmare could haunt you for weeks, but now you forget everything as soon as you wake up.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Changbin rushes to you, cupping your cheeks to examine your face. “Ch-Changbin,” you mumble, eyes widening as you realize how comforting his touch is. It makes you feel like you’re floating, before landing on fluffy clouds. You feel lightheaded, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help at all.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he panics. Changbin circles his arms around your shoulders when you nod. You’ve never had a sweet dream, let alone dreaming of Changbin, but if this is a dream then you don’t want to wake up. Ever.

He envelops your entire body with his arms as he presses feathery kisses on your exposed shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this,” he says again. From the tone of his voice, you know that he’s frowning. “What’s going on, Changbin?”

Changbin pulls back, eyes holding your gaze like you’re the one he longs to see. “I love you,” he states.

You prompt yourself to wake up before this dream overtakes your reality, but everything stays the same and now Changbin intertwines your fingers with his.

“Are you sure?” you croak, gripping his fingers.

Changbin dips his head to press his lips onto yours, pulling you into his embrace as he pours all the love and adoration he has for you into the kiss. He kisses you slowly but firmly, nibbling your bottom lip when you curl your arms around his neck. Changbin chases your lips when you pull away, whining when you stop him from placing another searing kiss on your lips.

“I need to tell you something first,” you mutter, lips trembling. “Once I decide to love I don’t hold back, Changbin. I don’t hesitate, and honestly I don’t know if I’ll be ready to hit the brake when we reach the dead end because it’s you and—”

Changbin cradles your cheeks in his hands again, shaking his head as he peppers passionate kisses all over your face. “Please don’t hold back,” he says, almost begging. “Love me. Love me however you want to, okay? Because I don’t want to hold back either. You mean everything to me.”

You’ve got to be dreaming, you must be. Your feelings for Changbin are too strong that for once, you’re having a sweet dream. The sweetest dream. Universe is giving you a chance to live your wishes and in the midst of ghosts, murders, airplane crashes and death. Seo Changbin is here and says that you’ll be able to bask in the warmth of his skin and the fiery touch of his fingers whenever you want to.

But his grip on your waist feels too real and the loving gaze in his eyes feels too hard to resist. “You’re not dreaming,” he tells you, reading your mind and crushing your doubts.

“Can I stay here? Please? I want to hold you,” he asks, almost begging. You nod, your eyes feel heavy as Changbin kisses your cheek.

“What happened to Mr. Oh-Y/N-we-won’t-fit-in-there?” you tease, burying your face in the crook of his neck, his shy laugh being the last thing you hear before falling into deep slumber.

It’s been 10 minutes since you woke up, and you don’t understand what’s happening. Changbin is still sleeping beside you, his arm curling around your waist loosely. Waking up next to him is something you’ll need to get used to, but there’s another thing that makes you wide awake at 6AM.

You stopped having nightmares.

Carefully, you remove Changbin’s arm from your waist before shaking his shoulder. “Changbin,” you call out, smile dancing on your lips as he blinks. “Hmmmm,” he hums. “Good morning, babe.”

You try to ignore your burning cheeks and pulls him up instead. “I didn’t have any nightmare,” you announce as he sits up, his hair sticking out in various directions. “Changbin, I’m serious,” you demand when he fails to respond. “What’s your soulmate bond? Is it just me or are we really… soulmates?”

There’s a tension in the air before Changbin starts sniffling. You quickly climb into his lap, taking him into your arms as he starts sobbing and mouthing words you can’t make out. “Hey, what’s wrong?” you question.

“My soulmate bond is I’ll only be able to cry after touching my soulmate,” he says, smiling softly when your hand comes into contact with his cheeks, wiping his tears. You start to tear up as well; everything must have been suffocating for him. He had to bottle up all his feelings inside, not having the privilege to let everything out while it’s easy for everybody else.

“I can call you a crybaby now, huh?” you joke, pressing kisses on the top of his head.

Changbin nips your collarbone in return, your heart soars when you feel him smile against your skin. “You can dream of me every night now, huh?”

You never have any nightmare again, but nothing beats waking up in Changbin’s embrace and knowing that you don’t have to say goodbye to him.

Beaches are scary at night and the chilly weather only makes it worse. You watch Changbin walking around to thank his crew one by one, including Jeongin whom you dragged out of his flat at 2AM to become a replacement for Changbin’s boom operator that bowed out last minute. Your best friend waves you goodbye from afar, his red hair is the only thing you can see.

The beach is now empty, leaving only you and Changbin as the wind gets harsher. “You did well,” he praises, intertwining your hands together. “I only did this for you,” you answer. “After today I realized acting is not my thing.”

He bows at you. “I feel honored.”

You laugh; after everything that’s happened it’s still somehow satisfying to see him say sweet things to you. The cool, almost cold Changbin is long gone—now he’s your Binnie Binnie Changbinnie who whines when you leave bed too early or come home too late.

“Y/NNNNNN.” And here he goes again.

“What?”

“Why won’t you ever tie your shoelaces properly? I taught you the double knot before!”

You give him a playful “tsk,” sitting down on the soft sand to do the double knot exactly the way he showed you. Changbin watches you with amusement, guiding your fingers everytime you make a wrong loop. “Sometimes I wonder how we would find out we’re soulmates if I didn’t tell you my soulmate bond,” you murmur.

“I would’ve told you that I love you any other way. It doesn’t matter,” he responds. “I only wish I said it sooner.”

“Did you mean it?”

“That I love you? Of course, why would you think otherwise?”

You shrug. “I don’t know how this works. Do you just have to say it? Or do you have to really mean it?”

“Haven’t those before me told you that they loved you?”

“Those? There were only 2 before you,” you share. “And yes, they told me that. Nothing happened.”

Changbin closes the gap between you, gripping your waist a bit tighter than usual and pressing his lips on yours a bit harder. You bite your bottom lip after he releases you, causing him to frown. “I love you,” he says, tugging your lip with his thumb before replacing it with his lips once again. Both of you are gasping for air when he pulls away, but this time you smile at him.

“I mean it,” Changbin tells you firmly. “Don’t ever question that. Now let’s get you home, you’re freezing.”

“Have you asked your uncle if we can stay in his place?”

You and Changbin are cuddled up in bed, planning your upcoming trip to Daegu to celebrate your birthday. “I forgot!” you gasp, noting it down on Changbin’s favorite notebook. You flip the page to write some other things, but the page isn’t empty. The whole page is full of Changbin’s notes—messy and confusing.

Aug 11 – I cried (around 10PM)

Aug 12 – Should I tell Y/N?

Oct 2 – Y/N moved in

Oct 30 – I’m not sure… a good listener, makes me laugh…

Nov 4 – asked about soulmates. asked about my movies à amazing answers.

Jan 10 – i love them….?

Feb 11 – tell Y/N you love them (what will happen…?)

“Changbin what the hell is this?”

Changbin looks up from his phone, resting his head on your shoulder to see what you’re reading. His face hardens the moment he realizes what you’ve discovered. He snatches the notebook away and rips that certain page, throwing it into the trashcan.

“Answer me, Changbin. What did I just read?”

“I swear to God it means nothing, okay?”

You really hate this conversation. It sounds like the typical romance movie where your lover insists that everything’s fine when it isn’t. You don’t want to end up questioning Changbin for the rest of your life, but you love him too much to let him go.

“You knew right from the start that I’m your soulmate.”

He reaches for your hand, and at times like this you hate how much he affects you. “You’re right. I knew.”

“And then you decided to test me,” you reply. “For what? So you could judge if I deserved your love? If I deserved you?”

“I didn’t test you!” he half-yells. You remove your hand from his and stands up. Your eyes meet your photos together he’s pinned to his wall, the most recent one is from yesterday. Changbin smiles in every single photo, arms wrapped around your shoulders or your waist. Seeing the little corner he dedicates for both of you always warms your heart, but now you’re not sure about anything anymore.

Changbin follows your gaze, smiling fondly at the memories before darting his eyes back to you. “I didn’t mean to test you. I just wanted to know if soulmates are real—if there’s really one person in this big, big world that’s meant for me.”

“But I just realized that to you, that was a test.”

“There’s a line between getting to know each other and testing each other, Changbin. The fact that you purposely hid this from me then asked me to be your roommate so you’d be able to ‘grade’ me… that shit hurts,” you admit.

You sigh when Changbin doesn’t respond, turning around to return to your own room. “What happens when someone separates from their soulmate?” you ask softly, turning the door knob.

“I won’t be happy ever again Y/N,” he rasps. “You know that.”

Changbin trails behind you as you’re walking back to your room. He grabs your hand when you’re about to close the door. “You can’t expect me to be okay, Changbin,” you state. “I want to be alone.”

“I know,” he answers. “But—”

“Good night.”

You sleep well without any problem now, but tonight is the worst night you’ve ever had in your entire life. There’s no nightmare, only reality.

Changbin didn’t mean to lie.

He had a quite difficult past due to his inability to express his feelings well. His parents had tried everything: meditation, medication, therapy… you name it, but nothing cured him. He was longing for that one release and spent his whole life trying to channel his anger and frustration into something that didn’t scream scary to no avail.

Filmmaking helped him, but not enough. His parents bought him his own place when he was 15 because they were—in his brother’s words—“are tired of your shit”  and his brother stopped talking to him the moment he moved out. In the end, Changbin gave up. He shut everybody out, never tried giving anybody his time of the day because he knew how everything would turn out.

He decided to rent a new place after high school and got Jeongin as his roommate. Jeongin brought him to you, and then everything changed. Changbin didn’t care whether he would finally be able to cry or not—he just wanted to be with you.

Somehow, along the way, he screwed everything up. As usual.

He scrambles to get up when he hears the door opens, hoping it will be you.

“What the fuck happened?”

It’s Jeongin, but Changbin is still thankful.

“You know what Y/N has gone through yet you still did that?” Jeongin spites, dropping a box of pizza on the table. “And you lied to me!”

“Sorry.”

Jeongin sighs. “I thought you would treat Y/N better than any other man because you’ve been through the same thing, but you dared to test someone who constantly questions whether it’s possible for them to be loved without the soulmate label? I don’t get it.”

“I know it was a bad idea, but I wanted to be sure, Jeongin. I want—”

“Save it,” Jeongin cuts him off. “Y/N is the one who needs to hear this, not me.”

“Will you forgive me, though?”

Changbin is prepared for a “fuck you” and punch on his face, but Jeongin only walks to the door. “I’m Yang Jeongin. I’m not your parents, I’m not your brother. I’m your best friend,” he prompts.

“And Y/N is your soulmate.”

There’s something different about today. Is it the way the sun shines on your shoes? The way people dress? The way the stray cats in front the café greet you? You’ve made a list of things that may have caused you to feel different, happier, but you can’t find it.

Whatever it is, your list certainly doesn’t include Seo Changbin standing in front of you, casually ordering Americano and cheesecake. You enter his orders in silence as he’s handing you his card. Jeongin is cleaning the display counter, unusually silent although you attempt to make a conversation with him. When he looks up, he gives you a look that screams, “I have nothing to do with this!”

Jeongin puts a cup of hot Americano on the table, smirking when Changbin protests that it’s way too hot. “I ordered a Hot Americano, not So Fucking Hot Americano,” he says sourly. The younger boy shrugs. “You should’ve told me you were coming.”

“Why? So you could—”

“Guys the line is getting long,” you cut them off. Changbin grabs his tray, looking at you with a stare that reminds you of the day he asked you to be in his graduation project. “Can we talk later? I’ll wait,” he asks.

After your shift ends, you’re walking around your neighborhood with Changbin who insists to take you home. You’re able to converse like normal although you expected things to be incredibly awkward between the two of you, especially after that day when you moved out and he just helped you pack your things, no words spoken.

You didn’t say goodbye, but maybe you have a chance to now.

“So when’s the drama going to air?”

Changbin takes a deep breath, counting days with his fingers. “Around next week? I’m nervous as hell. I’ve never been involved in a production this big.”

“What’s the title of the drama again?”

“Arthdal Chronicles! I met Song Joongki, Jang Donggun and Kim Jiwon! How cool is that?” he boasts. Listening to Changbin talk about his projects never fails to bring smile to your lips. At times like this, he only cares about what he loves and sees just that. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t think too much, he doesn’t control himself.

He glows.

“Hey Y/N.” Changbin grasps your wrist, gaze falling on your untied shoelaces. All the memories of him nagging at you to tie your shoelaces flood your mind and you have to do something, anything, before you fall apart.

You miss Changbin. You miss waking up to his sleeping face in the morning. You miss the way he looks at you when you praise him. You miss his beautiful voice lulling you to sleep. You miss taking him into your embrace whenever he cries, convincing him that he’s free to pour out his feelings now.

You love him—like soulmates do.

Crouching down, you connect the laces together, ready to do the first step. But Changbin stops you, completing the knot swiftly as you stare at him. When he looks up, his eyes are already glazed with tears. “I want you back,” he states.  

His gaze becomes apologetic when he feels your body freeze, but he quickly wraps his hands around yours when you want to run away. “I let my doubts against the world overpower me. I spent so many years looking for answers to convince myself that not everything is bleak, yet I let the darkness consumed me,” Changbin says.

“You’re the warmest, brightest light I’ve ever encountered but I failed to see that. And I’m sorry.”

He pulls you up, wiping your tears you didn’t know you shed. Changbin takes a step closer, cupping your face softly. “Fuck soulmates, I don’t care about that. I’m goddamn lucky that you really are mine, but even if you weren’t, I would still choose you.”

“And I can’t believe there’s a day when I’m gonna be the one saying this, but we can take things slow. As slow as you want.” Changbin gives you a small smile when you finally look him in the eyes. He’s awaken all kinds of feelings inside you, even the ones you didn’t know exist, but there’s only thing you can identify now: yearn.

Changbin lets himself cry when you decide to circle your arms around his neck. “I know this is too much to ask,” he sobs. “But I just want you to know that I want to love you right. I didn’t have a chance to show you that yet, and it’s all my fault.”

You shake your head. “It’s my fault too. I only cared about my fears. I forgot about yours.”

Your soulmate sobs even harder at your answer, only calming down when you start running your hand through his hair. “You’re such a crybaby,” you murmur against his neck as he returns your hug, laughing at your favorite nickname for him.

Enveloped by Changbin’s warmth, you feel something you’ve never felt before. The feeling of being able to love someone without thinking about how things are supposed to be, without hesitation, without limits.

You realize how beautiful it feels to be able to love someone right.

EPILOGUE

“Happy birthday, stupid!” Jeongin yells at Changbin’s face, shoving as sloppily decorated birthday cake into the birthday boy’s hands. Changbin stares at it in mild disgust as you exit the counter, placing a black box wrapped with a white ribbon on the table. “I clearly told Jeongin to just buy you a cake. I’m not claiming that,” you explain. “But what’s done is done. Happy birthday, Changbin!”

You take a step forward to pat his back. A little awkward, but it’s enough to cause Changbin’s insides to flip. You remember his birthday and actually bought him something; he can just cry now.

Wait.

The unfamiliar sensation in his body is almost too overwhelming for him to handle, so he runs to the restroom, leaving you and Jeongin behind. He barely reaches the restroom’s handle when his legs give up. Soon, he’s crying silently, tears keep rolling down his cheeks no matter what he does to stop them.

Crying feels horrible, Changbin thinks, but it also feels wonderful. Liberating.

And he realizes that he’s already fallen in love with you even before he found out that you’re soulmates.

Changbin hates clichés, but he wouldn’t have things any other way. Now he just needs to figure out how to tell you.

yeah, i know i probably made soulmate au lost its magic but honestly those are the questions that i have in my mind everytime i wonder how it’ll be like if the system is real (curse me and my incredible talent to overthink). to everyone who’s finding love out there, you are loved. maybe you haven’t met the right person now, but you will! 

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 6 - Wine Clears My Head

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.2k words

Chapter 6: Wine Clears My Head

You followed Weong-Bin to a bench on one of the streets, where he motioned for you to sit down. Reluctantly, you did so, and Weong-Bin sat right beside you. You leaned back against the bench, glancing over at Weong-Bin as he looked around the area. There was a moment of silence, but he turned to you.

           “Hungry?” he asked.

           “No,” you said simply. “What do you want to talk about?” Weong-Bin sighed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

           “Can I start by asking what happened to your hands?”

           “I burnt them this morning.”

           “On what?”

           “Coffee. Now can we continue?” Weong-Bin rolled his eyes.

           “You’re so clumsy, Jesus.” He muttered.

           “I’ll leave if you want.”

           “No, no! Okay… You know I meant what I said yesterday, right? About wanting to get back together.” You were hesitant but nodded.

           “I know.”

           “I really do care about you…” he said gently.

           “Well, you have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” You admitted.

           “I know, I know.” He sighed. “I’m not happy with how I act when I get frustrated.” A moment of silence fell over you, and you watched people pass you by. “I only want what’s best for the girls. It’s always been that way.”

           “I know that.” You said simply. “But if you want me back so bad, why did you cheat on me back then??” Weong-Bin took a deep breath.

           “I was upset…. we were going through a lot of stuff with…well…” he cut it off there. “You know.” You nodded in agreement as you rubbed your arm, eyes falling onto your lap. “I just did it. And I regret it.”

           “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” You said softly. Weong-Bin let out a deep sigh, and he sounded frustrated through it.

           “…Okay, fair…” he said. You glanced at him, and you couldn’t help to once again think back to the good times, even when those good times became few and far between. Weong-Bin’s job made him wealthy, he showered you and eventually the girls with anything he could think of. You went on trips, you ate at the most expensive places, you went to fabulous parties for his work. It was a nice life and you couldn’t deny any of that. But, with every good memory that flooded into your mind, three negative memories came in and swallowed them whole. Arguments, doubts, name-calling on both ends, affairs, that horribly messy divorce…You didn’t know if you wanted to risk going through that again, hell, if you even could handle it again.

           “There’s a part of me that wants to believe you, Weong-Bin.” You admitted. “I want to be a family again for the girl’s sake but…I can’t. I just can’t.”    

           “…Is it because of Hoseok?” you sighed, shaking your head. “What’s even your relationship with him now?”

           “I don’t….” you paused. “I don’t know. But regardless, he has absolutely nothing to do with my choice.” Weong-Bin didn’t look convinced with your answer. “Besides, it’s like I said, you sprang this on me out of nowhere.”

           “I didn’t want to do that.” He said. “I mean it when I said that I had the entire thing planned out. But after I saw that you and Hoseok reunited, I’ll be honest, it pissed me off and I…. well, I overreacted.”

           “Yeah, I know.” You said simply. Weong-Bin turned to you, and when you turned towards him, he gently took your hands into his.

“I’ve always loved you. That’s never changed. I loved being a father and a husband and working man and….it was all so perfect and I curse myself every day that I fucked it up. I want to make it right.”

           “Weong-Bin…” You mumbled. “I…. I need time to think, at least.” You said. That was it, Weong-Bin had enough. He let go of your hands and turned away from you, staring ahead as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked irritated and inconvenienced.

           “Come on!” He said. “After all that?! I said all the right things, and I mean them!” He said. When he saw your shocked expression, he quickly stopped himself. Coughing into his hand, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-.”

           “This is exactly why I won’t take you back.” You said simply, standing up. “I believe you meant everything that you have told me, but it’s this yelling and the way you talk to me… I dealt with it for so long, and I can’t do it anymore.” You felt a lump in your throat. “I only tolerate you now because you gave me two kids, but if they weren’t here, I’d never want to hear from you again.” You fixed your bag. “That doesn’t strike me as a good sign to be in a relationship with you.” Weong-Bin sighed, leaning back against the bench.

           “…I’ll change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.” He said simply, looking at you. Hearing that made you chuckle.

           “My point exactly.” You said simply. “Call Min Ja tonight, she’s still hurt you left. I’ll see you Wednesday night…” With that, you made sure to cute the conversation off there and turned around, speed walking to the train station. You didn’t bother looking behind you, as you quickly hurried onto the platform. While you waited for the train, you sent a message to Yuna saying that you would be home soon, and to meet at the apartment.

           When you got to your apartment, Yuna was already inside using her key. She was given an extra just in case of any emergency calls, and you were grateful that you made that decision sooner rather than later. Opening the door to the apartment, you saw Yuna sitting around the coffee table with the girls. The girls were coloring, and Yuna seemed to be getting some studying done.

           “Oh Yuna, you’re a lifesaver.” You sighed, dropping your bag on the floor as the girls looked up.

           “Mama!” Hyo Bin shouted, looking up at you as you walked over to the table. “Look! It’s a kitty!”

           “A kitty, wow.” You hummed. Min Ja walked over to show you her picture as well.

           “Mine is a picture of you!” She said happily. You smiled, taking the picture as you kissed her forehead.

           “Yuna, I’m so sorry this was so sudden.”

           “No, it’s okay.” Yuna assured. “I just hope everything is okay.”

           “Everything is fine.” You assured. “Again, I really appreciate it.” Opening your pocketbook, you pulled out the money you promised and handed it to her. She didn’t want to take it at first, but you reminded her that you hired her to be paid, so she kind of had no choice. With a smile, Yuna stuffed the money into her bag.

           “Mommy, Yuna said she wants to be an idol.” Min Ja said as Yuna got up to get ready.

           “Oh yeah?” You hummed, glancing at the teenage girl. “An idol, hm?”

           “Yeah, I’ve been going to auditions. No luck yet.” She said, chuckling a bit. “There’sauditions coming up for JYP Entertainment, I’m going to try my luck there.”

           “She’s super good, Mommy. I want to be an idol too!” You couldn’t help but chuckle at Min Ja’s enthusiasm.

           “Well I wish you luck, Yuna. You’ll do great~!” You smiled encouragingly. The teenage girl blushed, smiling a bit.

           “Thanks. I’ll be heading out, then.” Yuna said. “Bye girls.” She waved as the girls hurried and gave her a hug, which she happily knelt down to accept it. As you wrangled your girls into your arms, kissing them each, you waved Yuna out the door. Once it was just you and the girls, you lied on your back and groaned, covering your face. It wasn’t long before your girls hopped onto your stomach, making your grunt.

           “Mommy, why were you late?” Min Ja asked.

           “I had to work.”

           “Is that why Yuna picked us up?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh.” Min Ja looked at Hyo Bin, who snuggled herself onto your chest. You smiled, running a hand through her hair as Min Ja continued to talk, switching the conversation to what she did during her time at daycare. As you listened to her, you heard your phone begin to ring. Sitting up, you scrambled towards your phone and opened it. Weong-Bin was calling. Assuming it was for Min Ja, you answered it.

           “Hello?”

           “Are you home yet?”

           “Yes. I just got in a few minutes ago.”

           “Let me talk to Min Ja.” He said. Without a response, you turned to your daughter; she was looking at you with a curious expression.

           “Min Ja, Daddy is on the phone.” Her eyes lit up as she took the phone into her hands.

           “Hi Daddy!” She said eagerly. You watched as she talked to her father, your hand still going through Hyo Bin’s hair. You could hear Weong-Bin’s voice faintly on the other end, apologizing for leaving the recital, but saying the Min Ja did a wonderful job. Though Min Ja was still upset, talking to her father definitely lifted her outlook on the entire situation. After some time, Min Ja hung up the phone.

           “What did Daddy say?” you asked curiously.

           “He said he was sorry and that he would see us soon.” She nodded. “Then he told me to hang up the phone first. So, I did.” Rolling your eyes, you took the phone back and checked the time. It seemed like now was a good time to get the girls bathed, and then you would start dinner up.

---

           That talk with Weong-Bin was no help. If anything, it made everything a lot worse. If Weong-Bin had kept his cool attitude straight through until the end of the conversation, you had to admit to yourself that you may have been singing a different tune. But you knew that was how he was, being sweet as a button one minute, but it took one thing that he did not want to hear to set him off. He was like a child in that aspect. With this weighing on your shoulders, you couldn’t focus on anything. It was bringing your mood down, it was bringing your energy down…you didn’t feel like yourself, and it was bothering you. When you got like this, it was only up to a few hours you would go through the motions, and then be fine. But now, it had been almost four days. Tonight, the girls were with their father, leaving you alone in the house. You figured this was a good time for some self-care.

           You drew yourself a bath after dinner, sitting in there until your fingers and toes became prunes. The wine was prepared, you had your fluffiest pajamas out and ready to envelop you in their warmth, and Netflix was already pulled up with a variety of shows to watch. Hopefully, this would bring your mood up or at least make you feel less shitty. The bath was helping so far, relaxing your muscles and putting you at ease. So, it was a good start.

           As you finished up your bath and slipped into your pajamas, you fell back onto the couch. After filling a glass of wine, bundling yourself up in a warm blanket, and flipping through Netflix, you allowed the glow of the TV and the warmth of the wine to envelope you.

           “This is fine…” you mumbled to yourself, snuggling deeper into your blanket, and put the wine glass to your lips. “I need alone time.” Alone time left a chance for thoughts to come creeping into your mind.

           I want to be a family again.

           You responded to that thought by taking another drink of your wine.

           I really do care about you.

           Another sip.

           Is it because of Jung Hoseok?

           More.

           I will change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.

           Two more drinks. Before you knew it, your wine bottle was almost done, and so was your head. It was swimming, but no longer from your intrusive thoughts. You had come to realize how you were spoiled with Hoseok visiting you when the girls were with their dad because now that he wasn’t there, you didn’t like the silence of the living room. It was something you had forced yourself to tolerate before, with your family living too far away, Nayeon keeping herself busy with school, and Taehyung’s job taking up a lot of his nights. Jungkook and Seokjin were most likely busy with school and work…That just left you, a sad sack in her fluffy pajamas and getting tipsy on wine while thinking about your love life.

           “I can’t handle this.” You finally said, lifting up your phone. You scrolled through your messages until you fell upon Hobi, who was at the top of your messages list since he was the last person you talked to. You were talking about possibly meeting up for dinner soon, and you had recommended the restaurant that Seokjin had worked at. He was pestering you to attend ever since he got the job, and you were trying your hardest to make time. You hesitated for a moment. The last thing you ever wanted to do was to become dependent on Hoseok. After all, he was a single guy with single friends who were most likely out having a good time. Just because you made the decision to stop partying and going out when you had Min Ja, does not mean everyone else did. Staring at his contact information, you decided one text wouldn’t hurt.

           Hey… (Sent 8:45 p.m.)

           Setting your phone down, you fell back on the couch, nuzzling your head into a pillow. Your eyes stared blankly at the TV from now on, you weren’t too sure at this point what you were watching. The last movie had ended, and something new popped up in the queue. You were almost certain this was something you had seen before, but you had no strength anymore to change it. You didn’t even react at first when you heard your phone buzz underneath your body. Groaning, you shifted a bit, pulling the phone into view to see Hoseok’s name and selfie blaring bright light into your face. He was calling you. Quickly, you answered.

           “Hello?” You groaned. You heard Hoseok hum when he heard the grogginess in your voice.

           “Are you okay?” he asked curiously.

           “Yeah…I just wanted to text you.” Hoseok could notice you were starting to grumble and slur some words. “I was a bit lonely tonight with the girls at their dad's.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You chuckled a bit.

           “You must be buuusssyyyy.” You cooed, your voice slurring as you reached out for more alcohol. “If you weren’t, the first thing out of your mouth with be if you could come by.”

           “Heh, you must be drunk.”

           “Mmmmm, maybe a little.” A giggle escaped your lips. “I’m…sorry I bothered you.”

           “Oh, it’s okay. I was just preparing some stuff for work tomorrow.” He admitted. “It sounds like you need to go to sleep.”

           “I do…” you said softly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep though.”

           “Because you’re drunk on wine?” he teased. Another giggle escaped your lips, and Hoseok couldn’t help but smile.

           “No….” you hummed. “Weong-Bin has been getting into my head again…” Hoseok’s lips almost immediately turned into a frown, and he sat back in his chair. “I don’t think I told you, but at the recital, Weong-Bin said that he wanted us to be a family again.” Hoseok blinked, trying not to give an over the top reaction.

           “What did you say?” he asked curiously.

           “…Well, I told him no….” you said, feeling your throat tighten and your eyes cloud with tears. “But he keeps calling my phone and texting me asking to talk to him. The other day he showed up at my work and worried the hell out of my coworker. He’s been worried for me ever since, the poor kid. I feel so guilty. And the girls have no idea what’s going on, but it’s been like four days and I’ve just been in such a rut. And I know that they know I’m not myself, you know?” A sniffle interrupted your rant, and you felt your throat close up for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. “And I burnt my hands the other day and they still hurt and nothing I’m doing to cheer myself up is working and I-.”

           “Okay, okay.” You heard Hoseok quickly cut you off, and you stopped almost immediately. Your eyes were red and puffy now, and your heart was pounding in your chest. Was he tired of hearing you vent? He was busy after all. “I’m on my way over.”

           “What?” you sat up, sniffling. “N-no, you don’t have to do that. I just wanted to call for a few minutes. Besides, your work-.”

           “I’ll bring my work with me and do it there. It’s just paperwork and applications for the next session. Portable.” You heard the rustling of papers on Hoseok’s end, and you sniffled again. “Just stay by the door and I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

           “I’m sorry…” you hiccupped.

           “Don’t be sorry.” He said gently. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” With that, the two of you hung up. As silence filled the room again, the faint glow of the paused Netflix screen being your only source of light, you stood up off your couch. Dragging yourself to the door, you unlocked the knob and opened the latch, allowing Hoseok easy access when he arrived.

---

           “I’m here.” Hoseok chimed gently, knocking on your door. When he didn’t hear a response, he tried to open the door. He was surprised to find it was unlocked but stepped inside. “Hello?” He hummed, stepping into the apartment. Sliding off his shoes, he closed and locked the door before making his way into the living room. He called your name with a gentle, and worried tone in his voice.

           “I’m on the couch.” You called back, just as Hoseok saw you. You were still curled up, stuck in that one position on the couch that you put yourself in after unlocking the door. He walked over, seeing you on the couch, a quarter-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and a wine glass that was empty as well.

           “So, you must be really drunk.” Hoseok hummed, lifting up the wine glass and bottle. You glanced up, your eyes following him into the kitchen as much as they would allow before giving you a headache. Your ears told you what your eyes could not, that he dumped the rest of the wine out and put the glass in the sink to be cleaned. “When was the last time I saw you drunk? We were what, 19?” He teased, a smile forming on his face as he walked back to the couch. You pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing some space on the couch for Hoseok to sit. He turned on a table lamp before he sat beside you, and placed all of his work on his lap.

           “Iiiiiiiiii think so?” You slurred, trying your best to think back. “I stopped drinking after I got pregnant.”

           “When did you start again?”

           “After the divorce.” You hummed, and Hoseok responded with a breathy chuckle. “I haven’t been really, really drunk though. Tipsy, sure, but…” you had to stop yourself to groan.  

           “Well that’s what you get for drinking a whole bottle of wine.” He said, flipping his little folder of work open. He was skimming through some applications.

           “I have a lot on my miiiiiind!” You groaned, nuzzling the pillow under your head in defeat. “I know I’m going to regret it tomorrow.” Hoseok smiled a bit. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you do your work.” You hummed.

           Nothing was said after that. Hoseok did his work for a little while, while you silently lied beside him. You had since turned off Netflix since you weren’t even really watching it anyway. There was nothing in particular that you wanted to say to Hoseok right now, just knowing that there was a body next to you in case you needed to speak, made you feel much more at ease than any bath or fluffy pajamas. Hearing him scribble away on his work, while also humming and making simple sounds of intrigue at every application that he looked at was like music to your ears at that moment, and that was most likely what sent you to sleep.

           When Hoseok finished with some of his work, he was starting to get tired too. His eyes wandered to the digital clock on the TV stand, and he saw that it was pushing 11 o’clock. Setting his folder onto the coffee table, he stood up off the couch and looked towards you. He saw you were already sound asleep, your chest lightly rising and falling with every breath that you took. He noticed your body had to be contorted in order to make room for him to sit, and it’s been a few hours, so he was assuming that you were far from comfortable. Kneeling down, he gently reached out and shook your shoulder.

           “Time to wake up.” He cooed, smiling gently as he heard you groan. “Come on, let me take you into bed before I head home.”

           “Don’t goooo, Hobiiii.” You begged, your eyes still half shut as you struggled between slumber and alertness. Hoseok chuckled a bit. “I’m lonely….”

           “I know, but you’ll be up and at work tomorrow, so it’ll be okay. Let’s get you to bed.” He helped sit you upright, and your eyes finally opened all the way, scanning the room with a tired and still drunk expression on your face. Hoseok chuckled. “How cute.” He cooed.

           “Stop.” You pouted, nudging him. “Let’s just go…” you stood up, scratching your hair as you felt the blanket drop back onto the couch. Hoseok led you to the bedroom turning on the light before watching you shuffle to your bed. “Mmmmm….” You groaned, plopping down onto the comfort of your mattress. Nuzzling into the pillow, you felt Hoseok grab the blanket from the end of the bed and toss it over you, falling onto you and covering you in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled.

           “I told you not to apologize.” You heard Hoseok respond as he stood at the side of your bed. “Now, head to sleep.”

           “Will you stay?” you asked softly, glancing up at him with a pout on your face. Hoseok sighed, putting his hands on his hips. He smiled down at you.

           “Just go to sleep. I’ll hang around for a bit.”

           “What time is it anyway?” you hummed curiously.

           “Almost 11.”

           “Oh…” You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s so late. I don’t want you to travel in the dark.” Hoseok smiled more, watching your body begin to relax as slumber and your drunk state was beginning to take over you. “Promise you’ll stay. My couch is comfortable.”

           “I know…” He chuckled.

           “My bed is comfortable tooooo~.” You giggled a bit. “But I’m already in it~.” Hoseok felt his cheeks hit up a bit, but he began to laugh, an attempt to cover up any embarrassment he may have been feeling. “Mmmm, but you’ll take the couch. Because you’re good.”            

           “I’ll go get you some water.” He said. You heard him leave the room, and you hummed, nuzzling into your pillow. Your head was still pounding, and you lied down in your bed, gripping the pillow tightly as you tried to keep yourself awake until Hoseok came back.

           When Hoseok returned to your room, water in hand, he tried to make his way in as quietly as he could, in hopes of not waking you if you fell asleep. When he approached your bed, he set the water down on the bedside table and tilted his head to look at you. In a short amount of time since he had exited the room, you had fallen back asleep. This time, instead of being curled up on the couch, you were sprawled out on your bed as you snored the minutes away. He knew now that he wouldn’t be able to wake you up if he tried.

           “Oh, what am I going to do with you, hm?” he hummed, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. The touch only startled you, but it didn’t wake you up. You just shifted, groaning a bit, but you continued to snore in your dream-induced slumber. Knowing that you were asleep, Hoseok quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

           Hoseok found himself in the living room, and it was quiet. He looked around the room, putting his hands behind his head as he tried to think of what to do. He groaned, sitting on the couch as he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t too sure how long he decided to sit there, his mind glancing back towards your bedroom door from time to time. After what felt like forever, he looked towards the clock and saw that it had only been 45 minutes since you had entered your room and fell asleep.

           “Well, guess there’s no helping it.” He hummed, standing up. He walked to the door, checked that it was locked, before walking to the couch and laying down, tossing the blanket over him, resting on the pillow, and staring at the ceiling until he too, was able to fall asleep.

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[dalamjisung]

blue ✾ han jisung

okay, so I had three asks for a Jisung fluff story, and together they formed a pretty cool storyline! so I hope you all don’t mind, I mashed them all together and came up with this! :D 

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 3142

pairing: reader x han jisung

description: with thousands of miles in between you two, will the relationship last?

(inspired on the song BLUE by TAEYEON: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVtTdZt-HtI)

Half of the time you were at the studio, and the other half you were at the coffee shop at the end of the block because you’d have to work overnight again. And it wasn’t like you hated your job– it was actually pretty dope being songwriter for one of the biggest entertainment companies in the country, especially when your boyfriend also worked at that company. He was a member of a boy group called Stray Kids, and you have been assigned to them since pre-debut; although the jobs were very different, he was one of the three members that always worked with you to get the songs just perfect. You two spent countless nights talking about feelings and writing them down; brainstorming for new comebacks and concepts, creating choreographies to match the rhythm of the title track, making out, recording the songs, signing contracts, splitting lines to fit the members voices, and all that being a songwriter encompasses. With the plus of Han Jisung by your side. 

However, there were some aspects of your jobs that didn’t match. At all. Mainly, the fact that he’d go on world tours for about four months while you were trapped back at the company with a bunch of deadlines and other groups to attend to. It was stressful. But you made it work… for a while. It wasn’t quite like that anymore; there were no flowers waiting for you every Wednesday, your busiest days, at your office. No letters or emails or snippets of love songs recordings waiting for you when you got home. No more insisting that you guys went public so he could ‘show you off.’ No more breakfasts in bed when Jisung got back from tour, because both of your would be exhausted and honestly, no more cuddling– you both needed a proper night of sleep without waking up every time the other moved. You knew things were falling apart. You were very much aware of it, and of your part in it, but oh god, how you wanted to blame him. You wanted to blame Han Jisung and only Han Jisung, simply because you didn’t want to admit to him– to yourself– that you failed at the thing you loved the most in the world; your relationship. 

But it wasn’t only him and that was a fact. You guys fell in a space of comfort and routine that was hard to escape, and with the situation that both of you were, it was even harder. You sighed, checking your messages one last time before coming to terms with it– he forgot to call you. Again. And when he remembers, you’d probably be sleeping the three or four hours you managed to make free on your day. It has been almost a week of calculated, emotionless “good morning” and “good night” texts, no in between. No “I love you’s” or “I miss you.” It felt forced… and you just wanted it to stop, no matter what.

You were in the studio with BamBam when he calls, and for the first time, you ignore him on purpose. You are late on a deadline and Got7’s manager is hot on your tail, pressuring you to the point that you’d get home every night and burst into tears, thinking about quitting your job, forgetting all about your special project, as you called it, and wishing for familiar arms to surround you, a whispering voice telling you that “it’ll be alright, love.” But none of those happen; you keep showing up to work every morning and Jisung is never home, and even then, you’d still make time to work on your personal project once you got home. A project made for Jisung, to finally officialize you guys’ relationship, and now, you are not even sure if you should continue it. 

The phone stopes ringing only to start again and this time you groan in annoyance, scaring the man by your side. 

“Everything alright?” BamBam asks, squinting his eyes when you turn your phone screen facing down. 

“Just peachy,” You mumble, staring at the damn line you’ve been trying to finish since two hours ago. It just wasn’t happening; you feel as if you lost your touch, nothing you were writing was coming out good and your bosses were starting to bother you. The definitely mentioned you quitting, but you ignored them as you usually did. 

“Y/N,” BamBam sighs. “Go home. I got this.”

“No, I can’t go home.” You say and it’s true. You’ve been dreading going home for the past month or so, because it didn’t feel like home anymore. There was no Jisung wearing an apron in the kitchen making dinner, or Felix and Woojin appearing out of nowhere because ‘your wifi is better than the dorm’s’; it didn’t feel like anyone lived that and getting home to an empty apartment fucking sucked. So yeah, you couldn’t go home, and you simply didn’t want to anymore. “I just can’t.”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” BamBam asks taking your pen away and turning your chair to him. “We all noticed. We all know. What’s up?”

And you just start crying, because you can’t hold it in anymore. You cry because your best friends are gone, because you are alone, because everything apparently depends on you and nothing you do is good enough. You cry because you want to, and it feels as if a weight is taken off your shoulders when you say “I can’t do this anymore.”

——————————

BamBam drops you at your apartment that same night; he promised Chan that he would watch out for you while they were away and he did his best, but in a situation like this, he felt like an idiot. He didn’t know what to do, so while you were in your office packing for the day, he calls Jisung, telling him to call you in about thirty minutes or so, when you’d be home alone. And this time, you can’t ignore it. You just can’t.

“Hey,” You croak, your voice tired and overused. 

“Hey,” He answers, brows furrowed and eyes low on his hands. “How are you?”

“BamBam called you didn’t he?” You ask with a humorless chuckle. You’re embarrassed really, it was stupid of you to not go talk to him in the first place. When your boyfriend nods, you nod with him, defeated and feeling like you might cry again. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I’m so sorry…”

“You’re scaring me,” He says, and you nod again. “What happened?”

“I just-“ You sob, tears falling out of your control, and you want to punch yourself when you see the desperate look on his face. “I just miss you so much and I-I don’t think I can do this…”

“Do what?” He sighs, frustrated. 

“This, Jisung!” You shout, grabbing your hair and pulling it back, finding relief on the sting on your scalp. “Us. This. You there, and me here. It’s killing me!”

“W-What?” He whispers, and you notice the wet glint in his eyes. Great, now you made the love of your life cry. “Y/N, don’t say that!”

“But it’s true…” You choke out. “I miss you so damn much I can’t even come home. The agency is talking about firing me because I haven’t been the same since you were gone, and honestly, Jisungie, neither have we. We don’t talk anymore. We barely text, and when we see each other– on a screen, I might add– we fight. And it’s not your fault babe, really, it’s your job and I’m so damn proud of you for getting there, but it’s my job too, and I’m almost losing it. I’m about to lose it for real.”

“But we promised,” He says and his voice is strong. “We promised to fight until the end."

“I think this might just be the end of me,” You whisper, crying. “I don’t want to, believe me! I love you so much, but I don’t know what else to do!”

“We can fix this,” He vowels, grabbing the screen with his hands and bring it closer to his face. “I love you. We can fix this.”

“Can we?”

“Yes,” He says and he sounds so sure, so decided, that you nod. You believe him, and you allow him to guide you when you feel vulnerable. “I wish you had talked to me before, love…”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper looking down in shame. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then leave it to me,” He says and you see his hand touching the screen of his computer. “Trust me to help you when you can’t help yourself anymore, Y/N. Please.”

“Okay,” You breath deeply. “I trust you. But you have to trust me too. This is a two way street, Jisung.”

“I do,” He smiles, relived. “I trust you with all my heart even though you almost broke up with me just now…”

“Stop it!” You whine. “I sounded like it was the best thing for the both of us.”

“Being away from you will never be the best thing for me, Y/N. Get that through your thick head.”

You laugh, the first true one in weeks. “Okay okay, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” He whines. “I’m not leaving you even if you beg me to. Now tell me everything that’s bothering you.”

“Jisung, no,” You sigh, blushing. “You have problems too, I am sure, you don’t nee-“

“If we’re going to make this work, babe,” He says with a sad smile. “We have to communicate better. That’s the hardest part, love, but we can do this… come on, tell me everything.”

And you do; you talk about sleeping alone, and not being able to write, and about hatting one of your bosses (whom he hates too) and the conversation goes for hours. He tells you about being alone too, even though he has his eight member by his side, and how he wished you’d be more open with him. He talks about the concerts that don’t feel the same without waiting for him backstage and you talk about coming home to an empty space. Both of you finally talk, and it great and amazing, but once he’s gone, and you’re alone again, and silence takes over the room, you start wondering if things will really change. 

The doorbell wakes you up before your alarm, and you swear that you could kill anyone that early in the morning. You know it’s not Jisung trying to surprise you because he still has two concerts left before coming home, so you scream random words and try to go back to sleep. But then you hear the noise of the door closing, a subtle slam, but enough to alarm you. Were you getting robbed? 

As silently as your sleep deprived body could, you tiptoe to hide yourself behind the door of your room; and it was the perfect timing, because as soon as you rest your back on the wall, the door opens slowly, and a man comes in. He walks to your bed, and just as he is leaning forward to look for you in the mess of fluffy blankets, you kick him in the butt, pushing his body forward and locking him in place by his arms. 

“What the fuck?” They shout, and as his face turns to the side to look at you, you recognize some facial features. 

“What the-“ You let him go, walking to your nightstand and putting your glasses on. “BamBam, care to explain why you sneaked into my house?”

“Hm, care to explain how you know how to immobilize people?” He groans back, sitting down while massaging his shoulder.

“To protect myself when people sneak into my house.” You deadpan, still waiting for an explication. 

“Jisung called me last night,” Your friend says. “He told me to come get you and take you to get coffee on the way to work.”

You were surprised. He listened, you thought with a small smile. He listened to me.

“I’ll get dressed really quick and we’ll go,” You squeal in happiness. 

On the way to the coffee shop, you two pass by the florist that Jisung usually went. He is waiting outside for you, with a handful of daisies. 

“For the beautiful lady,” He says, smiling from ear to ear. “Your boyfriend called and told me to give these to you when he’s away.”

“Wha-“ You can’t even finish your sentence. You feel tears coming to your eyes as you hug the bouquet. You hear a snap coming from your right side and you assume BamBam just took a picture of you for your boyfriend, but you couldn’t care less.

Things are finally getting back to normal, you think. I hope I do too.

At work, everything went perfectly. You managed to deliver projects that had been late for weeks and you got all contracts signed and sent back in time. You wrote two new songs for the new girl band, Itzy, and got the schedule ready for Jus2. All that and you even managed to leave the office early, in time to your once again scheduled calls with Jisung. Truth was that you planned on having the surprise ready way earlier, but job and relationship and house and every single other problem got in the way. You felt that you were finally ready to tell the world that you are in love– and had been for two years– with the one and only Han Jisung. You were back at it full force and nothing could stop you. 

This was the mental state you were for a week. A whole week solely focused on work and Jisung. You had three songs ready, and you needed only one or two more for a mini album. That was the way you chose to tell everyone about you two; a collaboration of your talents and voices. It would be epic, and thankfully, it was already approved by the higher ups. Sometimes you felt as if it was unfair, for you to work alone on it when it would clearly influence you two immensely; you felt as if it was unfair to him, sure that if he knew about it, he’d want to participate on the making of the songs, not only the recording. But you also knew that he would be incredibly proud and happy and that that would override the fact that you hid this from him for so long.

It was almost 8PM now, and you were still at the company, trying to write just one more song for him, for both of you, but you were stuck in a line that you weren’t sure should be sang by you or him. So you went from the top, singing everything to try and come up with something for that ending. 

You are my blue, as always

You are my blue, filled with longing

It's beautiful

You closed your eyes, singing it by heart; you could almost see him, with his beautiful smile with that one slightly crooked tooth that he hated so much, but you thought it was endearing, looking at you with smily eyes, the type that express all of his fondness for you– of you. And then he’d come closer, chuckling a bit– ah yes, you could hear it, that slow, aired laugh he had, that made your heart go boom boom. 

Love, that which resembles you

My day is still here

A labyrinth full of you, one step further

An exceptionally deep sigh

And now his hands would touch your waist, swaying his body with yours. You felt it; the warmth of his callused hands, the delicacy of his slim fingers on your skin. He was right there. With you. And then, the lines that were missing come, his voice echoing in the small studio.

Slowly flowing through the breath

I think you are, you are my blue

As always, you are my blue

Filled with longing

It's beautiful

“Hello, love.”

——————————

“Remember,” His voice is the first thing you hear in the morning when you wake up, and you love him, you really do, but this was too much. “When you wanted to break up?”

“Jisung,” You mumble with a hoarse voice, hiding under your pillow. “That was two years ago and it’s 8 in the morning…”

“Still,” He chuckles and you start counting to ten. “I’m proud of us.”

You stop at 6 and peek at him, hair all over you face and marks of the pillowcase on your forehead. 

“What?” He asks, wide eyes and innocent smile. He was definitely hiding something. Sighing, you accept the fact that you won’t be able to sleep anymore and you try to make yourself presentable. “Stop it, you look beautiful anyways.”

“Or so you say,” You mock and put your hair up in a bun. “What is it? Why are you being all sentimental this early in the morning?”

He squints his eyes at you and scoffs, moving his body closer to yours and caging you with his arms and legs. He was an extreme cuddler, and you weren’t complaining. You laid your head on his shirtless chest, his t-shirt, as always, tossed somewhere in the room because he feels hot at night even though snow accumulated on your windowsill. 

“What?” You groan when he starts squirming. “Jisung, what is it?”

“You really don’t know?” He gasps. “I’m offended, Y/N, really!”

“Babe, I might know later in the day,” You whine, hugging him closer to you. “But it’s too early now!”

“Now I know how Chan hyung’s fiancé felt last month,” He mumbled.

“Jisung what are you talking about?” You sigh, deciding to move on top of him. You move your body so that it’s laying on top of his, your chin propped on his chest so you could look at his handsome face. Oh god, you were so in love with this man.

“Y/N!” He laughs once you poked his right side.

“Tell me.” You demand.

“You should know!” He tried to squirm away from your poking, but he fails. You keep going at it until he loses his patience and rolls you two around, trapping you under him. 

“Babe-“ You try to get away but you can’t. He holds you in place, eyes on yours, noses touching, and smiling mouth kissing all over your face. 

“I can’t believe I married you,” He chuckles and it finally clicks. “Happy anniversary babe. It has now been two full years since we released our album and got married. I love you.”

“I knew,” You try to look serious, but even you can’t hold your laughter. “I knew! I promise I didn’t forget our anniversary!”

“Y/N,” He laughs. “You forget your own birthday.”

“…I love you?” You say, smiling sheepishly.

“Much better.”

[cravingmarvel]

Leave Me Lonely

Bucky Barnes AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes  x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak 

Word count: 2283 (I don’t know how that happened)

“I played around with the engagement ring on Bucky’s finger, reminding me that he’s just mine for the late hours. Only when the sky is dark and covered in glowing stars. When the moon comes out giving him permission to touch me in the most intimate places. It means that he can love me and doesn’t have to pretend.”

A/N: Yup another sad Bucky one shot. Nobody’s surprised hahahah This took me forever but I couldn’t stop writing. I would really love some feedback because I’m insecure af hahahah  

Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Tagging some people who I think would like this (You are not obligated to read this if you don’t want to hahaha): @buckisthatyou @buckyforbreakfast @buckybarneshairpullingkink @buckystan-plums

I felt Bucky’s body move a little underneath mine and looked up to see him wide awake, smiling down at me. “Good morning, doll. Did you sleep well?” His raspy morning voice making a shiver run down my spine. He looks so gorgeous with his messy hair and light stubble. He took his hand from under the covers to slowly caress my cheek with the back of his hand. I leaned into his touch to memorize what it feels like.

“You look so beautiful. I wish I could stay here all day.” He quickly gave me a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, y/n.”

“Then stay.”

I pouted and cupped his cheek. I could still feel the thin layer sweat on his skin from the activities of last night. He lets out a deep and long sight before turning his head to look at the ceiling. It always ends like this. I ask him to stay but he never does. It’s a constant cycle of late night sex, begging in the morning and him leaving anyway. It was tiring but the pain was worth it, I got to experience him loving me in a way no one else could.

I played around with the silver band on Bucky’s ring finger, reminding me that he’s just mine for the late hours. Only when the sky is dark and covered in glowing stars. When the moon comes out giving him permission to touch me in the most intimate places. It means that he can love me and doesn’t have to pretend.

When his fiancé, Ana falls asleep. Ana who is so graceful, stunning and everything I’m not. She insisted that Bucky also wore a ring, to show every man and woman that he is taken. That he belongs in her life forever. That he is going to get married to her and she is going to take on his last name. That they are going to start a family.  

I do feel bad that he’s cheating on her with me, his best friend. She trusts me and has told me so many times before. “I know how close you two are and I’m not worried that he’s going to cheat on me with you. I trust you.”

“Why do you have to get married to her? You don’t even love her.” I climbed on top of him to give him a slow kiss, to make him realize who he really loves.

“It doesn’t matter, y/n. I have to marry her, she’s pregnant with my child and I can’t just leave her alone with that responsibility. You understand that, don’t you?” He smiles at me and tugs some strands of hair behind my ear. The pain in my chest grows at the thought of never seeing him again like this. After today is over, the only person who has the privilege to see Bucky like this, is Ana. She gets to do all the things I want to do with him. But the worst thing by far is, she has a piece of Bucky that will always bond them together. Whether they are together or not.

I kiss him passionately and pour every ounce of love I have for him into it. I try to memorize the feeling of his lips against mine. The way they taste like salt and move so flawlessly with mine. I try to memorize everything, because this is going to be the last time. He is going to get married today. And it’s not me.

First and foremost, Bucky and I were best friends. I can’t quite remember when we started this… friends with benefits thing. But what I do remember is how hard I fell for him. You have to remember, Bucky is the kind of guy you’d want as your boyfriend. He makes you realize what home and safety feels like. He makes you daydream and you forget everything you worry about. Your parents would jump in your arms, saying how happy they are that you found a guy like him.

So of course I wanted it to evolve into more. I wanted to give him all of me and love him in every aspect. I wanted him to be mine. I had the feeling he wanted that too. He hinted it at me more than one, taking me out on dates, staying in bed till noon and giving me nicknames like ‘doll’. So I assumed he would ask me sooner or later. But that day, oh that awful day, he broke my heart.

We sat on the couch in his apartment watching a movie with his arm around my shoulders, holding me close to him. I buried my face in his chest inhaling his scent, as I wrapped both arms around his torso. I contemplated whether I should do this or not. But I was tired of waiting, so I made the first move.

“Bucky?” He hummed in response giving me the sign to keep talking. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something too.” I was surprised and lifted my head to look at him. “But you go first.”

I sat up straight so I could look at him properly. “No no, you go first, please.” He held my face in his hands and pulled me closer until our lips met. It was just like any other kiss, sweet, slow and full of love. He pulled away to look into my eyes.

“I’m engaged.”

The expression on my face said it all. Shock, anger, sadness, all of them except happiness. I stood up to stand in front of him. “What?” He stood up as well and reached out to hold my shoulder but I took a step back.

“Y/n please let me explain. She’s pregnant.” He probably thought it would help me understand his decision but it only made the lump in my throat bigger, making it almost impossible to speak. The tears started to flow without making any attempt of holding them back.

“My parents told me to propose, I had no other choice.”

 I don’t belong here, not anymore and I felt the urge to run. “You- you just kissed me. You made me believe we could be more than friends. But this whole time you fucked someone else while you led me on.” I walked towards the door with the intention to never come back or see him ever again.

“I love you, I really do but I can’t leave her, she needs me.” I heard his footsteps closely behind me, following me to the door.

“You can’t tell me that you love me. You have no right to hurt me like this, to betray me.” I shouted back at him wanting him to hear the pain in my voice.

That night I tried to scream the pain out me, pretty sure the neighbours could hear me.

And even though I walked out of his apartment with the intention of never wanting to see him again, he kept coming back and I let him.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time to make sure I looked my best. If you ignore my tear stained face, puffy eyes and red nose, you’d agree that I look somewhat presentable.

With my heart heavy and aching, I got into the cab that took me to my dreaded destination. The whole way to the church was spent trying not to acknowledge the stabbing pain in my chest. I tried so desperately not to think about that what he told me all those months ago would be reality in a few hours. And there was no turning back. This is out of my control. I could try and beg him to not say ‘yes’ but I’m exhausted, I’m done with begging. If he doesn’t want to be with me, what more can I do?

I didn’t even bother to sit down. I stood close to the doors, ready to leave when and if he says yes. And I hate to say this, the church was beautifully decorated. Her dress fit her like a glove, exenterating her tiny waist and full chest. Her bridesmaids dressed in baby blue gowns looking almost as good as the bride. And then there was Bucky, dressed in a dark blue suit, probably tailored. His hair freshly washed and blow-dried. His beard trimmed just the right amount leaving a light stubble.

My heartbeat picked up its speed the closer the ceremony got to the big question, whether or not he would say no. First to say yes was Ana, but I couldn’t hear her, only the beating of my heart. And then it was Bucky’s turn. He turned his head to look at me and my heart stopped. The air in my lungs was stuck and I felt like I’m going to faint right then and there. And then he opened his mouth, still keeping his eyes locked on me.

“Yes.”

I wanted to run, I intended to do so when I walked in here. That’s why I stood so close to the door. But as the words fell from his lips, I just froze. He turned his gaze back to Ana and looked at her with the smile I received hours ago when we laid in his bed.

The ceremony ended with a kiss and the guests clapped with smiles on their faces, while I stood with tears streaming down my face. My vision clouded and my mind running a marathon. I know this was coming but the hope inside me, that he would realize he’s making a mistake never faded. I clung on to the idea of him leaving her at the altar and running into my arms ever since I received the wedding invitation. But now that’s just another imagination in my head that never came true.

The party was held in a ballroom inside a hotel. The words fancy and over the top don’t come close to what the room looks like. Bouquets of white and pink roses elaborately decorated every table. And fairy light adorned the ceiling giving the room a warm glow.

Bucky and Ana shared their first dance as husband and wife and all I could do was watch with sad eyes while my heart crumbled in front of me. He held her in his arms like he used to hold me and that smile, oh that smile that used to warm my heart and fix every problem I had. The smile that I hoped I would see every day as I wake up.

I started to walk towards the door like I did all those months ago. I don’t belong here. I took one last look over my shoulder only to see Bucky happily dancing with his wife.

Right as I stepped closer to the front doors of the hotel that are supposed to get me to a new chapter of my life, one where Bucky, all the pain and sorrow doesn’t exists, I heard his voice shouting my name. I turned to look at him with teary eyes.

“What? Do you want to rub more salt in my wounds?” I wanted to turn away from him but he grabbed my arm.

“No I wanted to talk to you.”

He led me to one of the seating areas of the hotel. No one was here except for Bucky and I. We sat down on one of the soft couches that looked and felt too expensive for my taste. I played with one of the loose threads nervously. I turned my head to look at him patiently awaiting for what’s to come. He cupped my cheek with his large hand and gave me the most pathetic look of sympathy.

“You do know that I still and always will love you, right doll?” He replaced his hand with a quick kiss on my cheek. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t. He whispered in my ear so quietly that even I was barely able to hear it “kiss me.” He slowly moved away and I wanted to get up from my seat and slap him. But instead I did as he told me. I kissed him and felt the whole world fall of my shoulders. I felt so light, I could’ve sworn I levitated. The familiar taste of salt and the soft texture of his lips that I love so much.

“You are a sad excuse of a woman, y/n.”

I quickly pulled away from Bucky’s lips and looked over his shoulder to see his wife, Ana. Bucky jumped from his seat to look at his wife. “Can’t keep your hands off of MY husband! Seriously, you should be ashamed of yourself.” Bucky went to stand next to his wife and looked at me in horror.

“He loves me, he told me this morning and seconds before you showed up.” I had enough. I was angry at both Bucky and Ana.

“Doll—“ he let out a chuckle and all I wanted to do is choke him “I never said that I loved you. Ana is the one for me and you need to realize that. Whatever we used to have is long over and you know that, doll, don’t you?”

I couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. He kissed Ana on the cheek before frowning at me.

My entire body started to crumble into nothing but sorrow. My heart broken all over again. How could I be so stupid? What did I do to deserve this? I just looked at him with a blank expression.

“Just leave. Leave me lonely.”

Permanent Taglist: (OPEN)

@fuckthatfeeling @funkenniffler @void-imaginations

PART TWO

[yutasbirthchin]

Hero - Epilogue

Group: Seventeen Member: Vernon Word Count: 2889 Genre: angst/fluff/tear jerking/idk

Prologue/Chapter1/Chapter2/Chapter3/Chapter4/Chapter5/Chapter6

a/n: Sorry it’s been like a month since the last update, I’ve had the worst case of writers block when it came to finishing this, I literally have like 4 other one shots brainstormed and half written that I wrote in the mean time because I really just couldn’t get this chapter right. But here it is finally! The last instalment! Thank y’all for sticking around and reading this whole story. Feel free to drop me an ask and share your opinions  :) 

“Here, Oppa, here! Isn’t it so pretty? It looks like it will serve the best coffee ever!”

Vernon’s eyes scanned the coffee shop. “It’s definitely…err…unique.”

“It’s unique, it stands out, that’s what all businesses should do, stand out from the crowd.”

“Can’t we just go to Starbucks?” He asked, really not trusting the pastel pink shop with ‘Sweet Treats’ printed along the top, it’s shop front decorated with hearts, polka dots and every other ‘cute’ thing under the sun.

“Is it so cute that it’s going to impede on your masculinity?” She fired back. “There’s nothing wrong with cute things.”

“I don’t have a problem with cute things, you’re cute and I tolerate you. But that shop… just for a coffee? I don’t know.”

She smiled. “Oh come on, I let you drag me into boring shops you want to go in. Besides, it’s our first time in America in ages, live a little.”

Before he could respond his she bounded into the shop. He looked longingly at the Starbucks across the road before following her in.

“Hello!” A very cheery man came rushing forward from behind the counter. “I’m Cole, thank you for visiting my lovely little abode, please have a seat.”

“I loooove your shop!” His companion squealed as he took a seat opposite her. “Who designed it?”

“That would be me, my father handed the shop down to me. He certainly was not pleased by my colour scheme or my decorating, he thinks it will drive customers away but I disagree. I mean, if it attracted a gorgeous girl such as yourself, it must be doing well!” He answered back with a wink. Vernon’s blood boiled as he stared at the shop manager, he was too flirtatious for his liking.

The two placed their orders and the man skipped behind the counter, presumably to start making their coffee.

“So where are you guys from?” Cole asked as he placed their drinks and food down.

“We’re from a little town in Korea.” The cute little girl answered. Cole glanced at the guy who didn’t seem to be in the brightest of moods.

“You’re a long way from home then, what brings you here?”

“We have family in America so we came to visit them, glad I did, there aren’t any gems like this where we live, right bro?” Vernon only nodded in response.

Cole laughed in response. “Thank you.” There was something oddly familiar about him, but the ringing of the bell signalling new customers dragged his thoughts away. “Give us a shout if you need anything.” He said with a wink before twisting on his heel.

Vernon couldn’t deny the coffee was good, and the pastries were the best he’d had in a long time. Sophia could tell this just by looking at him, she knew her brother well. “Still wanna go to Starbucks?” She teased.

“Oh shush.”

“This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“That saying is overused.”

She smiled as she put the phone down. She’d never mentioned to Vernon where exactly in America she had ended up, not because she didn’t want him to know but because she didn’t see the point, he wasn’t in America… Except now he was. She of course wanted to tell him, she wanted to be able to see him again, to hold him, but she was also scared. What if somehow he’d changed? What if she’d changed so much he didn’t like her anymore? There were so many possibilities. Now he was actually in America she felt bad. She knew he had come to visit relatives, not her, but the fact that he didn’t know where she was made her worry. America isn’t a small country, what if they happened to be on complete opposite sides and wouldn’t be able to even meet once? It would be too disappointing for her to handle.

She looked back at her half-finished essay and scowled. Back to work I guess.

The small cafe had suddenly become fairly busy around 1pm, with only a few empty tables and a queue forming at the counter. When it got this busy, Cole didn’t bother seating customers and taking their orders from the tables, he let them come up to the counter as it was more efficient that way. It did, however, mean that there had to be at least two people serving the counter, and so Youngjin sighed making her way out front. She didn’t mind the job, she actually enjoyed herself. Sure, since Cole had taken over the décor had changed to one she had a love hate relationship with, but the job was just the same and she earned a decent wage to get by whilst in college. What she didn’t like, though, were the times in which she had so much school work to do that she had to bring her laptop into work and write essays when she wasn’t busy. It was too stressful.

When the end of her shift finally came she sat behind her laptop, typing furiously.

“Babe, you know you can’t claim overtime just because you’re still here, right?” Cole joked.

“I know, I just have to finish this paragraph and then I’ll be off.”

“You got any plans tonight? Anything fun?” He asked.

“Yes I have a lovely little date planned with my laptop.” She replied and Cole chuckled.

“I could never be a student, don’t know how on earth you survive. I mean, you rarely ever go out and party and never leave anything last minute yet somehow you’re still always bogged down with work. You need to live a little, we’ve got to get you a boyfriend.”

“I’m always busier because I was dumb enough to take extra classes.” She answered and Cole shook his head.

“You’re really hung up on that guy, aren’t you?”

For the first time since the conversation started, Youngjin looked up from her laptop. “What do you mean?”

“You completely glossed over the last sentence I said, so either you zoned out or ignored it, and judging by your desktop image, I’d guess the latter.” Youngjin acknowledged what he said, but chose not to reply. “Who is he? Your ex? From Korea?” It was a simple answer but for some reason she felt oddly defensive, as though Cole was slowly cracking her open so he could judge her.

The last few years had been tough for her, it’s not easy to forget a past you so desperately want to forget when there’s an aspect of it that you keep so dear to your heart. Vernon. She loved him, she knew she did. And she hadn’t let him go, they still messaged each other almost everyday, but she found it hard to talk about him to other people because it dug up elements of her past that she didn’t want to dig up. People were nosey and wouldn’t be satisfied with a ‘he’s my best friend that I’ve known since we were children’, and she was terrified that she would accidentally let something slip.

After she still hadn’t replied Cole sighed, realising that he had probably overstepped a boundary. “Forget it, babe. I’m sorry.” He didn’t wait for a reply before heading out.

Youngjin sighed and forced the thoughts away, she needed to finish this paragraph before she lost her flow. She was intent on finishing her essay that night. Especially as she had to cover her coworkers shift the next day.

“Hello, hello, annyeonghaseyo.” Cole greeted Vernon and Sophia as they walked in the next morning.

“Good morning!” Sophia beamed. “How did you learn to pronounce that so well?” She asked, pleased that he had remembered they were Korean. Vernon couldn’t really fault him on his customer service.

“Ah, we have a Korean girl who works here and I bugged her until she taught me something. She only taught me hello though, so I can’t converse any further.” He replied.

“How can she only teach you one thing!?”

“She’s not the most talkative, keeps to herself a lot, to be honest I’m surprised she even taught me that.” Cole replied with a laugh. “She’s also almost always doing college work. But anyways, what would you two like this morning?”

When Cole came back with their orders he watched Vernon carefully, he really couldn’t work out what about him was familiar. Vernon, sensing the eyes on him, looked up and narrowed his eyes at the barista. “Why are you staring at me?”

Cole, obviously not realising he had been staring, felt embarrassed. “Oh! No, I uhh.. You just look familiar, really familiar and I don’t know why.” Vernon was confused, he definitely had not seen Cole before this trip and couldn’t think where he could possibly know him from.

“Leonardo DiCaprio! He looks like Leonardo DiCaprio!” Sophia burst out, causing her brother to hide his face in embarrassment.

“Sophia, please.” He whined but the other two just laughed.

“You really do look familiar though, are you sure you haven’t been around here before?”

Vernon shook his head. “No, I really haven-” he was cut off by the sound of the door opening and Cole exclaiming.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” The three other people in the cafe questioned.

Youngjin stared at Cole confused, waiting for an explanation but he stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He’d worked out why the boy looked so familiar, but didn’t know whether or not this would go well, considering Youngjin never wanted to talk about him.

Vernon, who was the only person who couldn’t see the girl who’d just entered, turned in his seat to see if he could work out what was going on. His eyes widened as they locked with those of his old friends.

“Youn- ah shit.” He said as he proceeded to drop his coffee, pouring it all over himself. This seemed to shatter the illusion and everyone jumped to help him clean himself up.

Cole watched the two as Youngjin mopped up the floor and Vernon attempted to clean himself up with the help of his sister. There was no denying that this was the guy pictured as Youngjin’s desktop image, but their interactions weren’t giving anything away. He sighed, deciding to dig; he might get an actual answer seeing as Vernon was there. “So, do I finally get to know what the story is with you two?” He prompted.

Vernon looked up at Cole, clearly confused. “How did you know we know each other?”

“Probably your dramatic scene.” Youngjin teased, gesturing to the area of the floor she had just finished mopping.

“Hey, it was an accident! Who said it had anything to do with you?”

“Wait, you two know each other? How?” Sophia asked.

“Well, if they don’t know each other, Youngjin definitely has some explaining to do. It’s not common to have random strangers as your desktop image.” Cole said and Youngjin’s cheeks immediately flushed.

Vernon looked at her, amused. “I’m your desktop image?”

“Cole! Why woul-”

“Did you miss me that much, Youngjin? So cute!” Vernon teased.

“I swear I could kil-” Youngjin started but stopped herself. “I’m not the one who tried searching for you for ten years because I missed you!” She shot back, and this time Vernon’s cheeks flushed.

“Ten years? Wait! Is this the same noona you had a crush on from elementary school?” Sophia asked, clearly not worried about embarrassing her older brother. Youngjin didn’t say anything, but looked at Vernon with an eyebrow raised.

As embarrassed as he was right now, Vernon wouldn’t change a thing… Well, maybe he would change the coffee stain down his shirt, but other than that he wouldn’t change a thing. He’d noticed a slight change in his best friend over the last two years, but this was the first time seeing the new confident, sassy Youngjin in person and he loved it. He turned to Cole. “We’ve been best friends for nearly thirteen years.”

“Friends, huh?” Cole questioned with an eyebrow raised. “How friendly are we talking?”

Youngjin chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Why ask if the answer is blatantly obvious?” She was about to continue when Sophia spoke instead, sending a cold chill down her spine.

“I thought her name was Younghee or something?”

Vernon watched the panic set in on his Noona’s face. “Younghee, Youngjin.” He said, surprising himself with how quickly and naturally the lie came. “I got the names confused.”

“Wow, you guys made it sound like you had some really cute hidden love story but it turns out he couldn’t even remember your name.” Cole laughed.

“In my defence I hadn’t seen her in ten years, and I was only seven when I last saw her.” Vernon replied.

“I’m sorry about Sophia.” Vernon said breaking their silence.

Youngjin rested her head on Vernon’s shoulder and looked out across the lake. “Thank you, you saved me back there.”

He reached for her hand, gripping it in his. “You shouldn’t worry yourself so much.”

“But that’s literally my biggest fear. If someone asks about me and I give too much away, or they get suspicions, or I can’t answer a question because I don’t want to give anything away, or-”

Vernon pulled back from her slightly, forcing her to sit up and look at him. “I think you’re doing more damage to yourself worrying about it than you would actually do if you just let it go and spoke freely. You don’t even really have to lie. Why can you speak so many languages? Because you had a lot of free time when you were younger and you got bored. Why did you have so much free time? Because your dad was really protective over you and didn’t trust the world… And because you dropped out of school after you dad died. How are you so good at martial arts? Your dad taught you. Why did you move to America? Because you wanted a fresh start and to get away from the bad memories you had in Korea. It’s really not as hard as you think it is.”

“But what if they ask me about Younghee or Ong?”

“There’s no reason for them to ask about that. Also, you’re in America, no one here would even know about that story. There’s nothing linking you to them.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re the link, what if they ask about you?”

“I’m your childhood friend, we’ve known each other for ages, et cetera et cetera.”

“Am I really just overthinking everything?”

“Yeah.” He replied, bringing his free hand up to her cheek and cupping it. “I get it, you just want to live your life and you’re worried about your past, but there’s literally no reason for anyone to probe so far that they find anything out. Stop letting your past rule your life.”

Youngjin stayed silent for a minute, staring off into space, but then she laughed to herself before meeting his eyes again. “I’m your Noona but why does it always feel like you’re the older one?”

“Jinnie I literally spilt my coffee all over me when I saw you.” He said with a laugh. “I can talk you out of your worries but I’m definitely no more mature or composed as you.”

She blushed at the nickname, hearing it for the first time in person. And then she surprised herself. “I love you, Vernon.”

Now it was his turn to blush, as she had well and truly caught him off guard. He couldn’t have controlled the smile that appeared on his face if he tried.

Vernon leant forward and pressed his lips against hers in a sweet gentle kiss. They both jumped at the loud bang and turned to look across the lake at the firework that had just interrupted them.

“And here I was thinking the whole firework thing was just an expression.” Youngjin joked. “Why are they even letting of fireworks? It’s not the 4th of July.”

Vernon watched the way the light from the fireworks shone against Youngjin’s face and smiled to himself. “I love you too.” He said, drawing her attention back to him before he kissed her again.

“Hey, Vernon?” Youngjin started as they pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“I really wish you didn’t have to go back to Korea.” She said, a slight frown playing on her features. Vernon smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he turned to face the lake once again. Youngjin narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“You really love me that much, huh?” He teased.

“Oh come on, don’t tease me! I’m actually sad thinking about you leaving.”

“It’s only fair isn’t it? You left me twice.”

“I take it back, I don’t love you, I hate you.”

Vernon let out a loud laugh. “You can’t lie to me, Jinnie.” He laughed louder when he looked at the expression on her face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Then how much longer are you here for, Vernon?”

“Well, Sophia and my parents are flying back next Sunday.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You aren’t going with them?”

He shook his head in response. “This was a goodbye trip.”

“What do you mean?”

“You dummy.” He laughed as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I only brought a one way ticket.”

[artificialqueens]

Supersonic; Stars Are Falling And So Are You (Pearlet) - shadyqueenie

A/N: I know I should be posting “It’s not personal, it’s fiction” but I had this idea and I wanted to write it so, so, so bad… that I did. End of the story. It’s a collection of one-shots, each one has a focus on a specific pairing. The only leitmotiv is the setting – the fashion business. The title is Supersonic just because I’m obsessed with Detox’ songs (you can listen it here). K! Today’s pairing is Pearlet, with Matt and fem!Violet – Matt sees Violet a year after their breakup. Based on a personal story of mine. (Actually, I’m using this collection as an outburst. Sorry!) Hope you’ll enjoy it! (catch me on @shadyqueenie here on Tumblr if you want a specific pairing, or (as always!) correct my grammar mistakes!) Your duh, shady

SUPERSONIC – STARS ARE FALLING AND SO ARE YOU (PEARLET)

They don’t pay me enough. Matt repeated this line like a pray, sit in the backseat of a luxurious car. Traffic was so dead slow Matt couldn’t bear anymore his restlessness. He suddenly realized he was eating his nails. It was something he started doing since he accepted the job as Michelle’s personal assistant, almost a year ago. When he gave up modeling, he wanted nothing to do with that world a single moment anymore. But he had bills to pay and had almost no education. Since he was sixteen Matt has been doing nothing but modeling, and gravitating towards fashion business. So, as Michelle offered him a job he immediately took it. And immediately he regretted it. Being the assistant of the stylist of one of the most important fashion houses of the country sounded like an appealing job – but in the end was a never-ending series of “bring me a coffee”, “carry the models to the sets” and sometimes even “do the laundry”. Matt went from being the spoiled model to the one that spoils the models in a handful of days. He didn’t even have enough time to sleep, and that was the most triggering aspects of his new job.

Yes, Matt was bored stiff. But then, that day, Michelle called him at her office for his daily schedule. “Just one thing today Matt, and I know I might ask too much but… A model is arriving at the airport for tomorrow’s runway show. I need you to come and pick her, since she doesn’t want to reach her hotel by taxi” she looked up to the sky, giving him the impression that she wasn’t really pleased by that behavior. Matt raised an eyebrow – Michelle wasn’t an easygoing person. Usually when models come with ridiculous requests she was used to ditch them, searching for someone else. “Ok” he simply replied. Honestly, it was none of his business. “Don’t you even ask me who she is? Aren’t you curious?” “Do I have to?” “Well…” Michelle took a deep breath and played for a bit with one of the enormous ring she was wearing “I will tell you, so you won’t be surprised… Nor that I think your face can handle more than expression that you always have” she joked, but then suddenly she became serious as she looked at Matt right in the eyes “It’s Violet.” “Oh.” So, that’s why Michelle had that ridiculous smile printed on her face. Did she choose Violet on purpose? Knowing Michelle, it could be – after all, she knew why Matt gave up modeling. He’s been Violet’s fiancé for years. He imagined a happily ever after life with her. Maybe with children, a tiny countryside house, a medium-sized dog with a pedigree and a bunch of shits about what he didn’t care anymore. When they broke up Matt felt so heartbroken he didn’t want to model anymore, as it remembers him all the good times he had with her lover and job partner. “Ok, no problem. When do I have to leave?” “Now? There’s a car outside waiting for you” Michelle was surprised Matt didn’t bat any eyelids at her request. But Matt era was made that way – he didn’t let go out even a single emotion “And Matt…?” “Yes?” he stopped by the door as Michelle called him. “Don’t waist time during the travel.” Matt didn’t even bother to reply, but waved at her and exited. Michelle sighed. Matt was unprofessional, but she grew fond of him since the first time she hired him as a model, almost seven years ago. Even if he looked like a sleeping beauty he was focused on his tasks, and in the end he became an excellent assistant. Moreover, his carefree attitude didn’t let him cry when Michelle shouted at him because she was stressed-out at the Fashion Week – and that was definitely a bonus.

He waited for Violet at the airport entrance. Unexpectedly, he didn’t felt nervous, nor anxious. Not even happy, though. Seeing her didn’t matter anymore. But… was she expecting to see him? The answer arrived minutes before. As Violet realized he was the one that was waiting for her, she stopped walking. She paused for what seemed a century, and then continued walking slowly, step by step. Behind her large sunglasses Matt could tell she was looking at him right in the eyes, her usual and mischievous smile printed on her pale face. “Well” it was the only word that exited her lips in a long time. “Hi, Violet. I’m Michelle’s assistant” “And what’s your name…?” She said playfully, handing him over a leather carryall.   Matt simply looked at her. A year has passed, and she still looked as the day they spilt. Apart from her hair color – now a platinum blonde that hardened her features, there were nothing remarkable of new on her. She kept on wearing those old-fashioned dresses and curling her hair. Of course, she was beautiful. Matt heard form mutual friends that that year she travelled the world and was on the cover of a lot of fashion magazines. He couldn’t complain Michelle for wanting Violet to be one of the leading models in her Fashion Week’s runway. “I’m working Violet, and I don’t really want to play those kind of games” he replied annoyed as he took her luggage. Not that it was his duty carrying her luggage, he just wanted to be polite – a real gentleman – and avoiding sparks for an argument. “That’s a pity… I remember you were really into role playing” she tried to tease him once more. Her voice was loud as she was trying to call the entire airport’s attention. And she succeeded, but the only one who didn’t look at her was the focus of her attentions. Rolling her eyes, Violet followed him three steps back.

“That’s what you do now? Michelle’s lapdog?” she asked once they entered in the car. She protruded towards him, a bit too way flirty for Matt’s taste. “It’s called assistant. I needed a job and was the best one I could have found” he decided to ignore her as much as he could – that’s why he kept his glance on his phone while talking. He was also trying to reply at Michelle’s message. She asked how things were going, but Matt was so pissed off he replied with a simple ‘done’.  ‘Just act professional’ was the only thing Michelle replied. He could her sighing for miles. “You’re too old to model?” her sneaky comment called his attention, though he found it pretty rude. She knew, he was sure of that. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her ex fiancé “And you?”, but the tone he used was more like a joke than a dare. Violet smiled at him. She wasn’t really used at Matt doing jokes so, even if she didn’t think that was a good one, tried to laugh. But Matt never tells jokes, and Violet never laughs. “Do you remember last year? Today, a year ago, we staying in that beautiful suite…” she whispered those words, slightly touching his arm. The blonde kept looking at her, nauseated by that behavior. It was like he didn’t want to talk to her. Well, he actually didn’t want to talk to her. Matt avoided the ‘Violet topic’ for almost a year, and remembering the good old times wasn’t easy. Especially the old, good times with her. “Violet” Matt sighed “I don’t want to talk about us, honestly” “Then you can at least tell me why did you stop being a model? You know you were good” she tried again. “Why do you want to talk?” “Because we have never had the chance since…” “…since I found you and Miss Fame in our bed?” he finally told it. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was last year’s spring. They were hard times for them, always arguing and fighting. In spite of that, they were still together and Matt was even thinking about proposing. But then once, when he entered their home he found Violet having sex in their bed with one of the models he hated most. He felt his heart cracking. Matt swore he actually heard a faint sound – like a glass crushing into the floor. He locked himself in a hotel room for days, avoiding his friends, his family and most of all he avoided Violet. He cried and slept and drank way too much. A week later he exited the room and he felt as if he was a new person – he decided that Violet was a bitch, that she didn’t deserve his tears. And never spoke of her again to anyone. “Yes.“ she breathed. "I don’t really feel like talking. With you, about you” “I know it was wicked of me letting you know I was in love with someone else in that way. But it has been a year. Can you just…?” she looked at him with puppy eyes. It made Matt’s blood boiled. That glance was something Violet used to do when they argued, because she knew that was one of Matt’s weak spot. He was aware of what Michelle wrote him moments before, but he couldn’t handle it. Not after a year, as Violet remembered him. “No Violet, I can’t ‘just’. And you know why? Because you’re a spoiled bitch. You don’t love anyone but you. Not me, not Miss Fame. And I’m so sorry for her when she’ll find it out. Because that’s it – everything’s about you, your desires and your life. You want to talk now? I don’t want to listen to you anymore! Guess what? I’m here because I’m forced to, not because I’m delighted to stay by your side – as you might have thought” he paused, just for a second, trying to catch his breath. Yes, definitely too many words for him “The world does not revolve around you. And you’re not a princess, you’re just a whore.” Since he started talking, Violet looked at him with mouth open. She didn’t think of Matt capable of such a long speech, or such a loud voice. She was almost impressed. But he tried to harm her with words and Violet couldn’t let him got away with it “Maybe I’m not a princess, maybe the world does not revolve around me, but you know what? I was trying to stay in good terms. You don’t want it because you’re jealous of me.” “Of you?!” “Yes! Because I’m still a famous model, because I travel the world and have a fucking gorgeous girlfriend. While you are just Michelle’s assistant. You are a loser, Matt.” Two minutes after, the car stopped. Matt took her luggage and carried Violet to the hotel for the check in. “I’ll come and pick you tomorrow at 11a.m. Don’t be late” said Matt as soon as she was given the key for her room. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, and left the building without saying goodbye. The next morning Violet did not try starting a conversation with him. She kept her glance down to her phone during all the travel. It has been a difficult night for Matt. He felt bad because of what he told Violet, but he knew that it was good for him. After a year he felt a bit lighter. Luckily the travel didn’t last too much, and as soon as the car stopped Violet rushed towards Michelle, who welcomed her with open arms “My dear”, she said with a beaming smile. “Michelle” Violet kissed her cheeks and smiled in turn. Matt knew she was not happy at all, he could tell by her eyes. He cursed himself for knowing Violet so well after all that time. “How was the trip? And how Matt behaved?” Michelle asked apprehensively. The last thing she wanted was that one of her leading models was pissed off. Violet looked at Matt “Fine. Matt wasn’t suited for being a model. This jobs suits him better” she had a pop at him “Not everyone can be stars”. “Watch out, Violet” Matt replied glacial “Sooner or later, all the stars will fall” “Not me” she rebutted with a malicious wink, before heading to the backstage. “Matthew James” Michelle said nothing but his full name. Her tone sounded like a scolding. “Yup, sorry. It’s just- she’s so…” Michelle smiled and patted his shoulder in sympathy “Got it. But I expect you to act more professional next time” as soon as she said that, her phone rang “Ok, I’ll be there in a minute. Matt” she raised a hand towards him, trying to catch his attention “I think your job’s done. If you want to stay in the backstage and see the runway show that’s fine. I could use some help later” The blonde guy nodded and put himself on the bench, trying to avoid nervous seamstress, clumsy assistants and hysteric models. Most of the people might have thought that the scenario was insane – but Matt missed it. He missed the sensation he was feeling every time spotlights were on him, how professional make up artists gave him those fancy looks, how people looked at him – envious of his grace. And now, he was no one. Just Michelle’s assistant –  Violet was right. And that was all because he couldn’t divide his personal life with his career. After their breakup with Violet he tried to walk the runway, or posing in front of a camera – but he always looked tired, annoyed and, most of all, sleepy. So people started not to call him anymore. There were rumors about him abusing of drugs. Once he heard a photographer saying “this could be the only reason why he looks always so sleepy. He must have an addiction on Xanax, or Valium. Or some shits like those. I don’t think we can work with him anymore”. His heart cracked again. He was 24 and his career was already over.

Following his train of thoughts, he didn’t even realize that the lights went off. It was the sign the runway show was about to start. For his position he could see all the models entering the runway, while he was standing just next to the exit. As models walked next to him, they waved at him, or breathed a “hi!” –  after all most of them knew Matt since they worked together. But every time Matt lowered his glance – in their eyes he must have looked pathetic, standing there as if he was trying to relieve his past. Then his glance met Violet’s. She was the next one on the runway, and she was looking at him back. She blew him a kiss, cocky as Matt remembered her. The second after she was ready for walk the runway. Michelle wanted only beautiful models, and Violet was no exception. She knew how to seduce his audience, how to walk in a professional yet super provocative way. The way she looked in front of her, confident because of her charming glance, was part of her allure – and was also what made Matt fall in love with her once. Violet turned around, ready to cross the exit. Matt, attracted like a magnet, protruded in order to see her better, and that was one of the best decision he had made in ages.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to see Violet falling, just a few steps before the exit, as one of her heels collapsed.   It was a massive fall. The audience went with some laughs and “oh!” and Matt was so sorry, he couldn’t help but laughed too. Still, as he saw Violet struggled standing up, he was the only one who helped her. He walked shyly towards her and extended his hand. His first time in a runway after a while and he was next to Violet – how ironical. Not everyone would have helped Violet, if they were Matt. But he has been in love with that beautiful woman. And she has been in love with him. They used to watch old fashioned films, enjoying expensive cocktails in luxurious bar, traveling together. He loved spoiling her with jewels, and she loved buying him neckties. They spent almost five years together, maybe the time of their lives, and they both knew it. Violet and Matt were once in love with each other, and that was undeniable. That’s why he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. She looked at him imploring, tears coming in her eyes. Matt has never see her more humiliated. It was strange, painful but still satisfying. For the first time in a year, Matt felt like he was a winner. For once, he was right. “Stars are falling, my dear Violet. And so are you.”

(to my ex boyfriend – you shady little bastard, what an amazing experience seeing you falling from the runway)

[luvbotclub]

— bubblegum pink. + finn bálor [1]

→ request: ― just a small thing I did!!

→ word count: 4,544

→ content warnings: FLUFFY!FINN. alcohol mention (and use). some swearing. shitty ending. I guess that’s it.

→ note: this is finally done. my suffering is goddamn over. but I’m really somehow proud of this so I hope you all like it! shoutout to some of my friends on Quotev who have seen my work and have complimented it. I’m trying to tackle on more of the wrestler’s head in here instead of the usual where I focus on the reader’s mind, so this may look 100% shitty but i tried ok :’) enough babbling, i really hope you enjoy this!!

→ tag list: @rxvolutionvries, @danbanks35, @trulydarcy

masterlist | post your feedback here

She walked into the sweaty place with the air bouncing off of her, like a halo was on the top of her messy head and every step she took with her stilettos were worth dying for. He’s the only sober one out of his group, as much as it sounded embarrassing to admit. He never really was the kind who got too wild in parties anyway.

The night after a Takeover is where all the stress and the adrenaline and the tension go with the wind. Where all victories were celebrated on the dancefloor and all the losses were coped in by downing tequila shots and being encouraged by strangers to order the strangest and most expensive drink there is in the bar. Honestly, Finn is still unaware why he’s here in the first place even though being only three hours in into the sweaty ‘fun’. In all honesty he could have been reading a good book right now or just enjoying the small quiet his hotel room reserved or listening to the soft buzzing of the busy street below.

After-night parties were never his thing. He didn’t like how sweaty people would sit next to him and how disgustingly hot their breaths were— it’s understandable that they were being wild and incredulously lewd, but, maybe they can stay away from him and find another shoulder to cry on about how their ex dumped them in front of hundreds of people in the community mall? He just didn’t like being in bars. He’d rather be anywhere but here, really.

Charlotte just had to pick a karaoke bar. Of all bars in this damned place. Now Sami is drunkenly singing “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion with an also drunk Shinsuke providing backup vocals, or so he said. They really weren’t singing, they were just slurring over their words in a horrible attempt to sing. They were hitting the high notes with a couple of voice cracks here and there and Finn swore he went deaf for a second. He was simply staring out of the window of their booth, completely bored and sober and looking at random people with his chin set on the leather cushion when she walked over to the counter and reserved a booth for her and her friends, who were already in the mood to hit the high notes and cause people their eardrums, by the looks in their eyes as they stared at the booths.

A happy glint in her eyes. Air bouncing off of her. A halo on top of her messy head. Each step worth dying for. Bubblegum pink dress gleaming under the soft boom of music and the buzz of lights. Bubblegum pink.

He felt the cushion weigh next to him and saw Charlotte’s blonde head look out the window, too, a goofy grin on her face. “Who are you looking at, my chum pal friend?” she whispered excitedly, as though they were children talking about their crushes in front of their parents. Finn chuckled at her. Obviously she’s drunk— who’d use ‘chum’, ‘pal’, and ‘friend’ all in one sentence? Drunk Charlotte, apparently. “Does my little Finnegan have a crush on a particular someone?”

“She’s not my crush, Char,” Finn rolled his eyes at her, moving his gaze away from the bubblegum pink girl. “Just… she’s kinda cute?”

“Kinda?” Charlotte blurted, as though he said something punishable by death. “Are you fucking blind? Look at her. Don’t give me the ‘she’s kinda cute’ treatment.” She shook her glass and took a sip. “Many men have said that. Many of them are actually in love with the girl. Is ‘she kinda cute’? I don’t think so. If that’s called being kinda cute then the whole damn women’s division here is kinda cute.” She grinned at him again and gave him a subtle wink that made him smile slightly. “Talk to her. Buy her a drink. Maybe make some new acquaintances tonight? You’re gonna be friendless really soon.”

She stood up and walked over to the ‘fun’ and left him with her ringing words. Drunk Charlotte. Why in the fuck would he listen to a drunk Charlotte? Last time he listened to a drunk Charlotte, he almost got his tongue stuck in a shot glass because she said ‘you could get the lime at the bottom’. He was young and naïve and new to the aspects of NXT and victory parties. He learned his lesson then— don’t listen to drunk people. They’re drunk. (Well… duh. Obviously.) They’re practically saying nonsense. Slurred words are not to be taken seriously.

Maybe Charlotte isn’t saying nonsense this time. Maybe he should really talk to her.

Tongue almost got stuck in a shot glass, Bálor. Keep your head in.

He needed new friends.

Fine. Drunk Charlotte won. He’ll be giving her five dollars tomorrow if this night ended well.

Finn finally stood up. It was the only time he stood up this night, unless you counted going to the bathroom to wash his hands every damn thirty minutes and escape the murder of his eardrums. He walked slowly out of the booth, his damned co-workers cheering for him as he made his grand exit— Charlotte might’ve filled them up with the situation already. But it didn’t really matter. How much will they remember in the morning anyway, when their heads are pounding and memories are fuzzy?

He made his way towards her after she talked with the receptionist. Her friends gave him these strange looks like Finn did something wrong— well, not technically. He’s been given these looks like he’s about to do the worst, punishable-by-death kind of thing in his life. He cleared his throat, meaning to actually clear his throat, not to snap the girl’s attention to him. His friends rolled their eyes.

Good job on a first impression, Finn.

He read somewhere while scrolling in Facebook that good first impressions can lead to a good relationship— so in this case, if he and this bubblegum pink girl hit it off and had a friendship, it wouldn’t be so good. He’s not sure, for all he knew the article could have been just another bullshit story in the internet.

Not really sure.

Fuck it anyway.

“Oh, hey,” the girl said, grinning kindly at him.

Angelic voice. Dashing grin. Kind personality. Marry me.

“Hi,” Finn said stupidly, and he mentally slapped himself. He stuck his hand out and she shook it. “I’m Finn. And you are…?”

“(Y/N).”

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he said, and internally groaned for his cheesiness. He’s notoriously known for being the cheesy pick-up liner. His co-workers wouldn’t let him live this down if they ever knew. “I saw you from my booth. You look really lovely.”

“Oh, thank you very much!” (Y/N) answered, smiling from ear to ear at the compliment. “You look very lovely yourself, Finn.” Noticing that she still had friends who were waiting for the booth number, she looked over her shoulder and coughed nervously, “Booth 109. Right around the corner. Can you guys wait for me there?”

With sighs of relief and a few nods, they walked away. One of them, who had a small voice, shouted over her shoulder, “Get laid, (Y/N)!” before turning the corner and disappearing.

“They hate me,” said (Y/N) deprecatingly, later grinning up at him.

“I’m sure they don’t,” Finn assured, giving her a small smile, “you look like someone who’s hard to hate.”

“I’m pretty sure they do, after how many times I said I didn’t wanna go here in the first place,” smiled (Y/N), leaning against the wall. “I mean, it’s just… really noisy and sweaty here? I get the point that you really should be loud here but… I really didn’t want to go.”

Laughing, Finn said, “Same situation with my friends. Is there a celebratory party going on?”

“Yup. Promotion, kinda. One of them has a stable job or some shit. You?”

“Victory and loser party. I hate it there.”

(Y/N) giggled. Snorting, she said, “Victory and loser party? That’s new. I want to try and throw a party like that one of these days.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching the back of his head as he chuckled softly, “my friends and I are wrestlers, you see. The winners from the pay-per-view earlier are gonna be the ones who treat the losers with drinks. Losers pay for the karaoke— but they’re the ones who use it anyway.”

“And how about you? Are you a loser or a winner?”

“Winner,” he grinned.

“Ah, parties…” (Y/N) sighed, resting her head against the cold cement. “I dressed up like this when I really thought about ditching on them.”

They looked at each other with serious expressions on their faces before finally falling into a fit of laughter. Spluttering yet another laugh, Finn said, “Well, I was about to ask you out for a drink but seeing as we both hate it here…”

“Let’s ditch on our friends. I don’t give a fuck about Henry’s emotional speech about his promotion anyway,” she shrugged, walking towards the exit, “and you don’t give a fuck about your victory and loser party.”

And so, they ditched on their friends with suppressed giggles. They ran around Brooklyn in a haste— it was late at night, no one would be really bothered by them, and no one would bother them. It’s just him, her, and the moon that night. Nothing else. It’s just their pounding hearts inside their chests and their pride worn across their chests. Nothing else. Just two sober strangers making jokes and being close to each other. Nothing else. It’s just a black buttoned-up man and a bubblegum pink woman.

Nothing else.

Their close ‘relationship’, it wasn’t anything strange. Or weird. Or misplaced. In a world like this, like theirs— this kind of love is a normal, acceptable, placed thing. Not anything to be judged at. Nor to be looked down upon.

They settled down in a bench near an almost empty McDonald’s. It was late. So late. But the moon still shone as bright as the sun did, their skin gleaming with her peppered kisses of moonlight. But the cars still buzzed as strong as lightning. But their hearts were still pounding loudly in their ribcages.

Her hair’s in a ponytail now, with tiny wisps escaping out of the elastic band. Her dress is still satin and lace and bubblegum pink and shone under the moonlight. She was holding the bottle of vodka in her hand, laughing slightly as she took it out of the paper bag. “Have you ever drank alcohol while being with a stranger before?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I haven’t, but I’d like to try, m'lady,” Finn said sarcastically, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. She rolled her eyes, hit him on the arm, cranked open the bottle, and took a deep drink before handing the alcohol to him. “Have you?” he asked, after taking a drink and they stayed in silence, just watching teenagers stumble their way through their drunkenness and to their homes with bleeding knuckles.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been drunk with a stranger before?”

“No. But I’m about to.”

“Yeah,” murmured Finn, taking another drink before passing her the bottle and she did the same. “Brooklyn is really pretty at nighttime.” He softly groaned as he sat back and watched the soft city. She looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed in a joking matter as she smiled at him suggestively.

Laughing softly, she said, “Yup” and took another drink before passing the bottle back to him— it’s kind of a cycle. Take two drinks and then give the bottle to the person next to you. “See those skyscrapers over there?” she pointed somewhere far. Behind all the trees and the bars and the empty McDonald’s. Behind all of those, there were mighty skyscrapers standing tall and chivalrous. Built by a person’s hand. How odd. “I want to be like them.”

“You wanna be tall and might?” Finn said jokingly, smiling when she giggled.

“Yup, I want to be tall and might like the skyscrapers, Bálor,” answered (Y/N) sarcastically, looking behind her shoulder and giving him a sharp wink. Luckily the ‘Open 24/7’ neon sign that McDonald’s had was slowly faltering, if it hadn’t been for that she could have seen Finn’s heated cheeks.

“But, no, really.” She sounded more serious now. More formal. “I wanna be like them because I want to look untouchable. Invincible. People can never say bad things to skyscrapers. I want to be like them because I’m exhausted of my unstable life. Fired here, fired there— I’m trying as hard as I can to have a job. Really. It might not look like it but I really am trying. Then I have to see my friends be successful while I’m here trying to be happy for them. I can’t stand to see another promotion party. I can’t stand being completely vulnerable to people’s talk at me.”

Drunk. Slurred words. Droopy eyes. Weird hand gestures.

“I’m not drunk, by the way,” (Y/N) said all of a sudden. She took the bottle in his hands and took another drink. “I’m just… babbling. Haven’t been really able to speak my mind for a couple of days. But it’s kinda strange, isn’t it? I’m jealous of skyscrapers and that probably doesn’t even make any sense right now.”

Finn scoffed playfully. “Oh, so of all things you said to me, you think the strange thing is you’re jealous of skyscrapers but not the fact that you’re practically ranting to a person you barely know?”

“I know you. I know you’re a nerd for almost everything. I know you like convenience store-brand vodka.” She shrugged at that, a goofy grin settling on her face as he stopped staring at the bottle in her hands and started looking at her in disbelief. “But anyways, you’re drunk, right?”

They looked at each other for a moment before grinning. “We’re sober adults, you and me both, (Y/N).”

“You’re right, you’re right,” she said, throwing her hands in the air as a I-give-up kind of gesture. “Wanna wander aimlessly for a little while? Our friends will start to worry in like, a few hours, anyway.”

“More like your friends,” Finn grinned. “Mine are drunk and most probably still singing their fucking hearts out.”

(Y/N) put a hand over her chest, as though she was offended over something he had said. “I did not take you for someone who use swear words. I thought you were a good, innocent boy.”

“I’m not that innocent.”

“Oh, baby, I know,” she gave him a playful wink and they both snickered. Both of them had heated cheeks, Finn’s from her wink and her suggestive remark and (Y/N)’s from the vodka.

“I’ll get you for that.”

“Oh, sure. Race me to the heart of that park over there.” Her pointer finger was aimed at a park a good block away from them. “If you win, I’ll give you my number. If I win, you’ll treat me to McDonald’s. I guess, if we both win you’ll have my number, and I’ll have my McDonald’s.”

And at that, she stood up and began to run down the street. She threw her arms in the air again and screamed out a loud “Fuck!” and continued to run before Finn realized what was happening and decided to get up and follow her— without a care for incoming cars. They were getting tipsy, and now, at this time, cars only dragged along the road every few hours. And now, at this point, they didn’t really care.

What was happening: he’s racing a girl he barely knows. He’s going to treat her to McDonald’s if he lost.

His reward: her number.

The air felt strangely warm. Warm as in the country summers and the apple-picking weeks. Warm as in the sunny days in the beach. It felt foggy. Thick. Every step he took, it felt like parting the atmosphere between them and the bubblegum pink. Every step he took, he felt younger and younger.

He had never been with someone who made him feel young and whole again— who didn’t make him feel like he was obligated to act mature in a completely non-rational situation. She made him feel the opposite. She made him feel like he was meant to do something more in life than travel around the world and do a couple of dropkicks here and there and wrestle his heart out, like he was meant to have space for his heart other than wrestling.

Each step she took, the air radiates off of her. The halo on top of her messy head is glowing as bright as it did hours earlier, when she was sober and acting self-deprecatingly. The ecstasy in her eyes— it never went away permanently. It did, for a moment— when she was talking about skyscrapers. But it never did die. It just… disappeared but stayed there, waiting for a moment to shine in the darkness.

When they both saw multiple gleaming streetlights planted on the dirt, they knew they were nearing their destination. The air is still foggy, thick, parting, warm like the apple-picking weeks. Their steps are in a haste, desperate to get their rewards. (Not him—not that much anyway.) Their hearts are pounding against their chests as loud as a beating drum in noisy parades. Their minds are fogged with nothing but white noise and alcohol filling empty cracks that never needed to be filled.

Finally they entered the mighty gate. The park is still open, even at this time of night. The gravel crunched underneath their feet as they increased speed. Their hands were balled into fists so tight to the point that their knuckles turned white.

“I’m going to get my French fries, motherfucker.”

Her laughter filled the void that even the quiet of his hotel rooms couldn’t. Her smile brought the light he thought he never needed. She— she made him feel something he never thought he would feel. Something he thought he never needed.

“I’m going to get your fucking number.”

It really can’t be.

“We’ll see about that!”

He can ignore it. He’s tipsy. She’s tipsy.

“You can’t fucking beat me!”

The world is practically amazing right now. It’s not true.

Heels scratching on dirt. An arm hitting a pebble. They laid on the ground, both silent except from their soft gasps of breath. Finn smiled.

He. Is. Drunk. He shouldn’t be feeling this way.

The sky, a light swirl of lilacs and blues and pinks now instead of deep blue with stars like diamonds, was spinning. Their heads were pounding and she was still holding the bottle in her hand.

But if she says another word. If she smiles another smile. If he feels young again.

“Fuck.” He was breathing heavily.

Then he’ll admit it. He’ll let himself feel it.

“I never felt that kind of adrenaline since I was a kid.” And with that, (Y/N) sat up. She was smiling at him. And her face is a masterpiece. A painting of some kind. Her emotions were the watercolor that would spread. And as she drunk the vodka again, the beverage stood as her eraser. It removed all her emotions. It removed all the paint on her face. Washed her with a warm cloth. It removed all flaws until her face is bare. Until her face is like a boring, old canvas, waiting to taste some kind of pain, some kind of unbearable serenity, some kind of recklessness.

He swooned. He felt young. He felt like the world, somehow… it mattered. It didn’t spin, it didn’t feel like it made no sense anymore. The way she smiles, the way she talks and the way she was afraid to show her emotion. It made him feel like the world isn’t doing cartwheels anymore, it made him feel like the world finally made sense. He felt a tremble in his chest, a pounding against his ribcage, a small switch flick in his brain. He felt all levels of weirdness. He can’t feel his legs.

Fuck it then. He’s in love.

Not with the city. Not with the sky. Not with the soft grass pressed against his back. Not with the convenience store-brand vodka. But with how her lips curved into a small smug smile, how her laugh echoed in his head as a soft melody, how she filled every corner with her radiating air. With how the halo on top of her head glowed as bright as ever. With how her face looked like a painting, alcohol serving as her destroyer. With how desperate she is to get treated to a McDonald’s that she almost broke her ankle in the process. With how the world seemed so amazing, so pure, so meaningful— sober or not—because of her. With how the bubblegum pink dress gleamed with every move she made. He’s in love. With her.

Does that make sense? Is that acceptable? Is it okay to fall in love?

So many questions. But there’s only one answer. He doesn’t want to know. He just wants to savour this moment, fall in love with someone who he’ll lose soon, get drunk with someone who’s going to lose him, too.

“We should go and get your well-deserved McDonald’s then,” Finn rasped, offering a small wink that made her cheeks blush. “Are you sure your ankle is okay?”

“I’m fine, I don’t need a piggyback ride or anything,” joked (Y/N), which made him roll his eyes and stand up. She stood up, too, after being offered a hand. “But,” she started, as they calmly walked back to the bench and the almost empty McDonald’s and the lamppost, “I don’t mind a piggyback ride from you, seeing how well-built the mighty Finn Bálor is.”

“I promise you a piggyback ride soon.”

“Pssh. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“Stop making promises you never really intend to keep.”

Finn looked at her with a bewildered expression, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I have that habit of making promises. I also have that habit of keeping them.”

“People can’t promise you anything.”

“I think, in all thirty-four years I’ve lived through, I’ve picked that up already.”

(Y/N) laughed a glorious laugh. Smiled another light smile. “I guess.” As they both stepped inside the McDonald’s, the smell of cooking meat overwhelmed them. “Apple pie and fries?”

“Apple pie and fries.”

And now they’re back in the park again, sitting on the soft grass with their legs crossed. They looked like children, hungry and lost. They were washing fries down with vodka and choking on their words. She didn’t mind sharing. She didn’t mind him lying down on the grass while he finished the rest of the vodka. She didn’t mind how she opened up about her past relationships. She didn’t mind opening up to him like a book waiting to be read.

“So, that’s the story of how my foot got stuck in a wall.”

“Why kick it in the first place?” Finn laughed, and she shrugged playfully as she clapped the salt off of her fingers. He looked up to the sky. It’s early. 5 AM. He has to leave soon. “We should head back. Our friends might be looking for us.”

“Oh, y—” Her ringtone hit. She fished for her phone in her purse and laughed.

“What is it?” Instead of giving him a verbal reply, (Y/N) turned her phone and made him read the reason why she laughed. Two text messages from Henry, the guy who got promoted.

HENRY — (Y/N), where the actual fuck are you? Aria is drunk off of her ass and had already puked on Oliver’s sweatshirt. (Sent: 5:02 AM)

HENRY — Update on Aria: Slightly sober. Threw up again when Oliver suggested getting seafood. (Sent: 5:03 AM)

“Speaking of friends.” She grinned devilishly and locked her phone. Picking up the plastic bag of McDonald’s on the grass, she smiled at him. They walked back to the bench, to the empty McDonald’s, the skyscrapers. They felt exhausted, like any second they can collapse. Every inch of their bodies are tensed to the point that every move hurt.

The karaoke bar with its shining neon sign and vibrations came to view once they rounded the corner, both engulfed with silence. “Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered, grabbing Finn so they were hidden from Henry and his pack. “Thank you so fucking much. This is the best night of my life. Or morning. Whatever.” They both suppressed a snicker. “Give me your phone.” And so he did, gave her his phone unlocked, not even asking why. After a few seconds, she handed his phone back to him. “There’s my number.”

And suddenly, a shout of, “(Y/N), I know you’re there!” interrupted Finn’s mixed feelings and the small flip his stomach did.

“It’s Henry,” she whispered. “I got to go.”

Before she turned the corner again, (Y/N) grabbed the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips firmly against his. The force of it so strong that it almost knocked Finn over. The flip his stomach did repeated, the mixed feelings weren’t so mixed. He only felt one thing and the space in his heart got filled, finally.

He’s in love. He’s not terrified. He’s not doubtful. Only hopelessly in love.

“For so many hours, you made me want to do that to you,” (Y/N) confessed, after pulling away. And there she goes again. Spilling her heart out without a care. He admired that. “And you know what’s crazy? I’m in love with you.”

I’m. In. Love. With. You. Five words that made Finn’s mind explode.

“It’s not crazy.” And that’s true. “Love is love.”

“I guess so.” And with that, she leaned in again and kissed him. Eager but passionate. Soft but rough at the edges. Sweet but poisonous. It felt like the kiss is somehow making him feel everything she felt a few hours ago. Like she was transferring her own emotions, her watercolors, to him— emotionless, a boring, old canvas.

She pulled away. The flow of emotions stopped and he was no longer a watercolor painting, no longer a masterpiece created by her calloused hands and bruised knuckles and fingertips. Winking at him, she backed away slowly. To the road. Away from their fire. Away from their beacon. Away from him.

And with that, the sky turned lilac and bright orange and the sun balanced on the horizon. Birds were flying. The people are awake, ready to start their busy city life once more. The dark yellow cab was waiting for her and the promoted-stable-life Henry and the drunk Aria and Oliver with the puked-on sweatshirt. It was morning.

Her dress swished side to side when she made each step, the satin and lace gleaming under the sunlight. The halo on her head is still glowing, more iridescent as ever. Each step carried a weight that even the cement can’t handle. Each step, the air radiated off of her. And the bubblegum pink dress. Everything had a change of heart but it stayed there. Glowing. Radiating. Still satin and lace.

Still bubblegum pink.

[arts-butthound]

Sense and Salarian ability, chpt 4

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537765/chapters/64412392

He drifted home to a planet far away from the Citadel; where the grass grew high and he and his brothers would come home after a day of play, smelling of clay and tropical pollen. The smell of jungle plants seeped into the humidity of the air and rich, moist soil conformed to the feet. Lau could almost feel and smell the sunshine of Nasurn … Damn. This herbal mixture was everything that the asari vendor had said it would be! He sunk lower into the deep trench of the tub, water tickling the muscles in his head. He breathed in the arid spice and wished it were possible to stay here in the water, time easing to a standstill, for the rest of the day.

He’d been in the tub all morning, finally able to steal a few hours to rehydrate his porous skin. The recycled air of the Citadel tended to lean towards the dry side and long, frequent bathes had become necessary since moving here to run the gallery.

It was now nearly noon, standard station time, and the world outside of the bathroom called. He had obligations to attend to and a certain asari to appease. He heaved himself lazily from the tub.

             Inside the apartment, his strict habits were as uniform as his decorating-dealing in sharp corners and absolutes. Get out of the tub. Facial moisturizer. Body moisturizer. Horn oil. Eye drops. Get dressed. Straighten up the bathroom. Turn on the venting fan. Then it was off to the kitchen for a quick cup of tea and a small amount of nutrient paste. As he ate, Lau didn’t taste a thing. The man ran on auto-pilot, watching the clock, stealing minutes for himself. He had to be sure to only take what could reasonably be excused away.

             Eramanthe had only thought to invite him to the Art Museum at the last moment, yet had the gall to say it would mean ‘so so much’ if he showed up. He couldn’t decide if it was because the museum had borrowed a piece from her two hundreds and she wanted a visible excuse to avoid it or if it was that she was asked to be a speaker, but she was excited none the less.

Five minutes stolen.

Lau knew she had other friends to bother about this kind of thing. She hadn’t given him time to reasonably ‘think on it’ before he had to tell her ‘no’ on the pretense of pretending to be busy. Somehow the woman thought that inviting him just yesterday evening was practical. Lau had been in the middle of dinner. He had looked forward to doing absolutely nothing today.  He shambled about the apartment, deciding now was the perfect time to straighten sofa cushions in the living room.

Seven minutes.

“Never should have answered that call.” The salarian grumbled under his breath. He took a lint roller to his shirt, his keen eyes and hands zipping over stray bits of fuzz that stubbornly held to the fabric. A beige dress-shirt with a built-in abdominal guard and quarter rolled sleeves. Black pants. Newly polished boots. Gloves that reached just to the edge of his palm-a gift from his sister and apparently the current style at home.

Nine minutes.

             Lau ruefully locked up his apartment and walked to the closest rapid transit port. Fifteen minutes on the dot. The alarm on his omni-tool began to ring as he punched his destination into the terminal. Precisely on time. In this way, he could easily blame traffic on his tardiness, explaining to Eramanthe how there was a decent wait for a cab and how traffic had been bad at a certain intersection.

             He enjoyed that RT cabs didn’t need real people to drive. As annoying as her portals could be, cabs operated by an Avina module were a god-send to the socially averse. Only tell her where you needed to be and then enjoy the quiet while you could.

             On the annual occasion, The Ambei’on Museum of Culture and Art would open its doors to the public free of charge-claiming to want to spread a celebration of diversity in the galaxy. Parents often brought bored children, who ran around with heinous abandon. College students would come with sketch books in hand to study form. Art collectors would walk about, admiring and hunting for prestigious artists they had yet to purchase a piece from. Lau stood outside the front doors, staring up at the event banner.

Inside, the halls and amphitheater were abuzz with excitement and the garbled conversations of dozens of groups as they wandered about. This year the museum had welcomed in some of the most prominent works from the human race into their collection. Human artists and tour guides stood by pieces, grandly speaking of the history and importance of their assigned station. As Lau walked through the building towards the Asari wing, he made a mental note to make the trip here another time to look at what human art had to offer. He’d caught glimpses of works in passing, and though one of the more ugly species in the galaxy, human artists seemed to have a similar grip with the asari on universal form. Even if their painted colors were muddied at first glance.

As a college student, Lau had once thought his work would end up in a museum like this. He smiled to himself and shook his head at youthful folly. So few artists among the millions were actually purchased by museums; or were considered influential enough to be remembered in grand halls. Eramanthe had been at the game for three centuries. Now in her four-hundreds, she was bound to have at least one piece in a museum or another.

“Lau! Hey!” Lau focused ahead of him as Eramanthe waved, shouting to gain his attention in one of the most earnest, undignified manners. He half smiled, waving back at her as he walked. “I’m so glad you could finally make it!”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. Traffic got bad at-”

“Oh I don’t care about that!” Eramanthe waved off his feigned concern. “I’m just glad you showed up! I was sure you were going to tell me to bugger off when I called last night.” Her voice bounced with glee, Eramanthe’s smile curling around her cheeks as she took Lau arm in arm and began to walk.

“Bugger off?” Lau gave her a strange look. “Is that new slang you picked up somewhere?”

“It’s a human expression I learned recently while out people watching!” She took her free hand and waved it in front of them-as if she were relating to him something regal. “It means to hit the road! Get lost! Go away!” Lau made a small humming sound, shook his head. “Well I liked it!” Eramanthe defended, turning up her nose playfully. “Eighteen years of their being in space and I’m still learning so much about the species.”

“Only you would consider slang as educational.” Lau answered flatly, scratching the beneath of his jaw.

“You smell really nice today. You wearing a new cologne?”

They walked together companionably for a while, Eramanthe blathering on about some of the artists being displayed-how she’d like to meet and collaborate with them. Lau kept a constant eye out for business partners of his family. A hand full of them lived on the Citadel as well.  If he had to deal with the business aspect of his life today, Lau was sure that he’d end up on the evening news under the banner “Salarian Nerves Break.” Or “Frog-Man Gone Wild!” He wasn’t even entirely sure what a frog was.

The Grand Hall was a wide long room that was saved for sculptures of all sizes-those that ranged on the smaller side were presented closer to the walls, allowing for larger sculptures to breathe on the open floor. The best of every species creators were featured here in stone and sand, wood and clay, metal and waylaid junk. The room had the comforting smells of fresh floor polish and aging materials. The two would point out pieces that caught their fancy and stop to discuss it for a moment.  Move on to the next piece.

Eramanthe stopped and pointed out a sculpture that froze Lau's breath into a tight ball inside his throat. It was radiant. It was powerful. Abstract metal spikes, not quite connected, depicted the mighty and solid form of the turian people. When viewed at a distance, it was everything the turian hierarchy was known for. However, as the viewer grew closer to the piece and circled about, the more gapes appeared in the polished metal. In the center of this behemoth, made of softer curves and wood, was a form that knelt on bended knees and clutching at its head and shoulders heaved up around the cowl. The wood could have been visually appealing, but large gouges had been taken from the form-its surface was splintered and scratched.

It was perfect…everything here had to be placed just so. The execution was flawless. It was one of those pieces that dared you to reach out to feel the reality of its existence. Lau resisted this urge, of course. He wasn’t an animal. But it was there none the less.  The corner of his mouth threatened to twitch, to become an awed sense of wonder and respect. Maybe he could get the artist to contribute to the gallery…maybe the gallery could afford to commission a piece for permanent display!

“Caius Olymlin.” Eramanthe read the artist plaque. Lau turned jaggedly to face her. The crazy bastard was already in museums? So soon?  He looked back up at the piece. The space between years became tangible in front of Lau’s eyes. He hadn’t ever thought Caius capable of such complexity-

So careless. So reckless. The light catches his plates as he laughs, shining mercury. Surrounded by others, magnetic. Despised by the teachers around him. Despised by me. He plays more than he studies. His work is safe forms, passing grades. If he doesn’t take this seriously, why is he here?

-He’d always had great talent, but such discipline? He’d grown so much as an artist. “Goddess! Lau, get the load of this! He made this right out of college! That’s just not fair.”

Of-fucking-course he did.

             The enchantment died in Lau’s eyes, his aloof scowl returning. Taking two steps from the sculpture, Lau’s boots clicked against the wooden floor when he returned to Eramanthe’s side. “You don’t say.” He droned, briefly glancing at the plaque. “Well, some have the eye at a young age. Shall we go on to your piece?”

“Ah-we don’t need to do that.” Eramanthe waved off the idea, smiling uncomfortably. “It’s just from the Athame series. I really don’t need to see those…ever again.”

Lau smirked, shaking his head at her. Artists and their inexplicable need to distance themselves from old works would forever be funny. Lau gestured forward as Eramanthe took his arm once more and they left Olymlin’s reputation behind without a second glance…barely.

             In his desperation to put distance between him and the sculpture, Lau allowed Eramanthe to take the lead as they walked through the rest of the grand hall and through other bits of the museum. He teased Eramanthe-threatened to drag her toward “Athame in Water-Light” for ‘the culture’ and ‘the pride’ in his friend for having a piece of art in a gig like this!

“So, when is Zejaa’s Dala’Sian?” Eramanthe asked, trying to subtly turn the two away from her sculpture’s location. Subtlety was never her strong suit.

“A little more than nine months. Big parties like that take time to get together.” Lau shrugged. “Client’s need to make time on their schedules, family circles need to be notified to send their leading member. Etcetera.”

“Goddess.  I’ll never understand why it takes you guys so long to officially put someone in office. She’s been Dalatrass for what? A year and a half already?”

“Acting Dalatrass, Era.” Lau pointed out. He pushed her gently with his shoulder, which only served to make the both of them sway slightly. “Completely different set of forms and treaties. There is the proper mourning period to consider, after all.”  All these years of closely working within a salarian dynasty and she still cared to know so little about whom she dealt with. Some prideful part of Lau chose to guffaw at Eramanthe’s perceived audacity.

“And some of you still wonder why Illicei turned down the job. So damn fussy-” Eramanthe’s attention was suddenly called away by a museum attendant and a group of guests, waiting around with eager eyes. She’d be back in a few moments.

Lau took the chance to sit on a bench and assume a distant gaze. He barely remembered anything about his grandmother. He’d been too young when she’d passed on to the next circle. He only knew her from what he’d heard. What he heard was she’d been one of the most willful ohm’re in his family in recent memory.  Eramanthe seemed to look back on her fondly enough. But then, she liked most everyone. His mother, Illicei’s daughter, looked back on his grandmother with more embarrassment and distance. She suggested to his clutch of ten that they do the same.

He stretched his fingers against the fabric of his pants. Tension he hadn’t been aware of eased out of the digits as the white noise of the museum visitors hummed off of the walls. Today wasn’t completely intolerable. Maybe he’d grab some lunch with Eramanthe before walking home. Lau’s favorite food vendor, an arthritic old salarian, was near here. Lau, being one who generally didn’t enjoy cooking, figured he’d treat himself and buy enough to have for dinner later.

“So-” Eramanthe reappeared, waking Lau from his train of thought. “It looks like I’m a little late for a talk I’m supposed to give. It’s for a bunch of kids and their parents. I’ll only like fifteen or so minutes…”she planted her hands on his shoulders and patted them. “Stay! I’ll bring back some wine for us!” Gone again before Lau could blink. How did a woman with such short legs move so fast? One would think she were more rubber than a salarian whelp.

Now alone, he was able to take in the room fully. The colors of clothes against the multicolored stone blurred and lurched. Then his eyes glanced over a ghost in the crowd that made his chest heave with a heavy groan. The duct rat girl.

Damn the gods.

The girl stood still among the crowd, strange faces passing her by without seeing. But Lau saw her, much to his discomfort. He’d never seen one stranger so often. There was an entire ward, an entire station, of people between them and yet he saw her more and more often. A stranger is supposed to have the decency to go away after a brief encounter.

Despite Lau’s staring, she had yet to see him. Though still dirty and unkempt, her eyes were placid, her face blank as she stared up at a jagged red stone statue.

It was her hands that caught the flick of his gaze. How, though glued to her sides, they moved and caressed imaginary forms. Lau blinked a few times. He analyzed. She wasn’t touching it, though her fingers were ravenous. If Lau had to guess, he’d think…was she tracing the object of her hands attention. It was just an old krogan statue, crudely carved a millennium ago. It wasn’t an attractive thing by any means. Even the face had corroded over time. More or less, it had probably been donated by some collector as a possible tax write off. Or perhaps found by an archeologist before the krogan’s had become an isolationist nation on Tuchanka. Cultural history, perhaps. But art history?

The girl’s eyes roved over it, though. She looked for something that his, admittedly biased world view, could not reach. She’d looked at his worthless scrap too…his horns burned slightly.  Obviously she had yet to learn how to look at anything worthwhile. For now she wielded misguided eyes.

He considered her.

He considered his options.

He considered how much he was potentially going to regret this.

“You know, I never did get the… opportunity to thank you, properly. For returning the sculpture you broke, that is.” Lau cleared his voice appearing at her backside.  

Her shoulders bounced up around her neck, her hands immediately flinched into little claws. A slight gasp that could count almost as a strangled screech. Well…he hadn’t meant to scare her so.

Lau looked to the statue she’d been so enamored with. He wore a false smile, shifting his weight from foot to foot almost imperceptibly.  “It was unexpected.  I apologize for my anger then. I was certain you had come back to rob me. Not return a repaired sculpture.” Should he tell her that it was admirable? He probably shouldn’t. The right thing was done and it would be repetitive to say more.

The human didn’t say anything. How awkward. She just glanced at him with those piercing eyes over and over again. Looked from her shoes to him; back to her shoes. Back to him. She nodded, swallowing. Lau began to reconsider his decision to come over here. “Your school teacher should be praised. They’ve done a fine job teaching you at an introductory level of clay work. Eramanthe, my asari friend, wouldn’t shut up about how pleased she was at your repairs.” He wondered if he sounded friendly enough? Should he try better eye contact? The two stood, shoulder to hip, as still as the stone in front of them.

“Was….was it her sculpture?” She squeaked. Finally!

“Er, no. Someone else’s.”

More quiet between them. What had been so fascinating to her about this krogan rock?

“I don’t…go…to school.” The girl wrung the hem of her shirt repeatedly.

Lau looked down at her with offended surprise. ‘I suppose that explains her lack of manners before.’ he thought to himself. “But, where did you learn to fix that, without anyone to teach you?”

She shrugged, looking down and rolling her open palms. “I dunno. I followed the wire…it looked right?”

Right. The base armatures. He’d momentarily forgotten those were in there. “Tell me” he cleared his throat, looking back towards the broken immortalized krogan, “I noticed you were looking at this. What catches your eye?”

“It’s pretty. You can see where it got hurt. It feels nice, the edges-I didn’t touch it!” She clarified, fiddling with her hands when Lau shot her an incredulous glare. “I-imagined- it feels strong. That’s all. How it looks, I mean. It’s still got a lot of sharp parts in it- on it. That he doesn’t have a face…feels comfortable? Like he could be…I dunno. I just…like it. I guess.”

“You were staring at it rather hard to simply ‘like’ it. And what about your hands? You were-”

“I didn’t touch it! I swear. They just do that when I…look…at pretty things.” Her cheeks burned red, and her brows knit together. Lau watched as she knotted her fingers behind her back. He took a deep breath.

“It’s a texture thing, isn’t it?” He smiled at her. A small smile! Only to say he understood. There were things in life, when they lay in your hands, that made a person feel like comfortably vibrating. Or those things made them feel at a standstill, complete in their focus. “Understandable. Plenty of people have that and just don’t notice the need as keenly as others.” Her eyes grew to the size of small moons. “I suppose if you’re looking for texture, krogan art is a good place to seek it out-”

“Whazza difference?”

“Excuse me?”

“The difference. I mean, krogan art-isn’t all art the same? No matter who makes it?”

“A decent question, I suppose.” Lau shrugged and crossed his arms. “Different species have different needs of the senses, and scope of emotion. As an example, asari artists tend to work with soft, gentle curves. Classy and refined. Whereas krogans don’t seem to edit themselves, leading to the edges. No forethought, no planning. Just straight into it and getting a rather rough looking final product, but there’s honesty to it…if often a jaded honesty. An artist is only limited by their imagination, but their culture and environment do color their tastes and styles. To say all art is ‘the same’ is insulting to the works. Not to mention rude.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be.”  The cageyness in her eyes had dulled some. She looked at the statue again, a small smile gracing her features. “I wanna do that when I grow up.” She said, nearly under her breath; more to the air around her than to him or anyone else.

Lau scoffed, “You could certainly pick better points of inspiration to base that off of.  This piece of junk is more than likely here as appeasement. Even if you do have an affinity for krogan art, there are better examples.” He looked down at her, an unsure knot forming at the base of his gut. “What did you say your name was, earlier? I don’t believe I caught it.”

“Tegan.”

He nodded. “You may call me Ropon.” What could Lau say next? He knew, but part of him was still uncomfortable. It was a complete disaster last time. But…everything he’d been trained to believe seemed to stand in front of him. Some have the eye at a young age. Lau looked at her in earnest. “You-If you’d like to actually learn a bit about sculpting, I’d consider…having you back at the gallery for a few lessons.”

The duct ra…Tegan’s mouth dropped open and she gapped at him like a fish- eyes all a twinkle. He straightened his posture and folded his arms behind his back. “You’ll have to work for me though, in exchange. I’m not just handing out a free ride. Cleaning will have to suffice until I find a way to make you more useful.”

“YESSIR!”

Sudden. Irritating. “No need to shout.” He hushed, looking about them as others curiously looked in their direction. They soon lost interest. “Show up late morning tomorrow.  Ten to Eleven, preferably. Once the work is done, I’ll see where I need to start with you.”

Tegan bit her lower lip, jaw trembling with excitement as she continually nodded. Lau was surprised she wasn’t making herself dizzy like that. That kind of enthusiasm…Lau was almost jealous. He scanned the room for an approaching Eramanthe. Wishing for escape. Needing the wine she’d promised to return with. Tegan continued to stare at him eagerly, her smile a ‘u’ of excitement. It made him uncomfortable-like trying to humor nieces and nephews that were a year old. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well…I have other things I need to be doing today. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

If running away from a child could in any way look dignified, Lau would have done so. Instead, he turned on heel and walked away with his back straight and arms still folded behind him…desperately wanting booze.

“Aelin! Guess what!” Tegan bounced down the steps of the museum, towards a waiting older brother with a warm smile and a rub for her head.

Aelin stood up from his place on the steps and stretched his long arms. “Whazz’at, Petal? You look pretty happy right now.” Tegan smiled and nodded her head, taking Aelin’s hand in her own. She loved the sound of his voice; the way he always sounded tired, a bit husky-speaking in rounded tones. When she’d been small enough to share a bed with Vey and had had a nightmare, she remembered him rubbing her toddler belly and murmuring little pattering phrases in a language unknown to her.  Though, thanks to the blow he took to the underneath of his hood the evening past, he sounded wheezy, as though it still hurt to enunciate.

He took a long drag of a cigarette as the two descended down the stone steps, blueish gray smoke exhaled. Tegan watched it twist and curl until the smoke dissipated into the air. “Aren’t you trying to quit?” she pursed her lips as she gave him a solid look.

Aelin only chuckled, taking the thing in between his teeth as he spoke. “Vey certainly thinks I should. Harder to quit than she thinks it is, though.”

“You’re not even going to try, are you?”

“Not at the moment, no. So, what’s the thing I should be guessing at?”

             As the two walked down the street, Tegan twittered on all about her afternoon in the museum, all the pretty things that she’d seen! Aelin had a hard time imagining the paintings and sculptures she talked about but smiled along with her enthusiasm. That is, until she started telling him about the art dealer again. The more she talked about her conversation with him, the more Aelin’s paranoia twisted his stomach. His smile became a much wearier thing, though he tried not to quash her fervor. He listened to her babble on until they came to a small convenience store, where Aelin bought them both a fruity drink and sat them on a bench. (His bruised lung had begun to feel tired from the walking anyway, so now was as good a time as any to break.)

“Petal, I’m very glad you’re excited for this. But, you didn’t give him a...immediate answer, did you?” His fingers played with the condensation on the cold bottle.

“Yes?” Tegan answered, taking a gulp of the drink. “Why?”

“Well… You have a habit of doing this when you’re excited or want to help. And sometimes you end up regretting that, y’know-”

“That’s not gonna happen this time. This’ll be so much fun!”

Aelin stayed quiet for a minute, taking a drink and thinking. “Okay…um, I’m going to come with you tomorrow then.  Just to keep an eye on things…see what you learn while over there.”

“No!” Tegan stood suddenly. Her hair moved along with her, like a wild animal, as she slammed down her bottle onto the bench, glaring at her brother. Tears burned their threat at the edge of her eyes. “No! You wouldn’t be saying this if it were Vey or Cetus! I’m not stupid! I don’t need you to babysit me!”

“This is not babysitting! And I never said you were stupid, Tegan.” Aelin tried leveling her with a stern glare, patting the seat beside him again. She only crossed her arms and withdrew further from him.  He groaned, leaning against the bench and feeling his bruises wince and swirl. “Yes, I would say the same thing to the other two. You’re a bit on the naïve side, Petal. I need to make sure you’re okay with this guy.”

“It’s fine! He invited me! There’s going to be other people around, so I’ll be fine!”

“You get more stubborn by the day, you know that? Humor me…and know that it’s not me thinking less of you, little sister. Bad people exist.” Aelin shifted on the bench slightly, to better reach for and rub Tegan’s back. He felt her body angrily quiver under his finger tips.  “If this guy is honest, he wouldn’t invite you back if he thought you were stupid. If he’s a jackass, I want to be there to help you…let me?”