#will update the tags when he has a translated name

[fragrantpines]

Pei Long's kisses are short and sweet. They are sprinkled throughout the day but on days where he cannot give you your daily doses of kisses, he'll give them all back to you on a later date.

He'll hold your face with one hand, stroking your cheek tenderly with his thumb while his other hand rests on your back, pulling you closer and closer until there isn't any distance left between your bodies. If you try to move, his hand will gently push you back towards him until you are practically leaning on his chest. 

"I love you," he whispers softly, as if he were still in a dream. 

When you stand on tiptoes to press a kiss onto his lips, reminding him that this isn't a dream, he looks awestruck for a moment before proceeding to shower a bunch of kisses over your face, devoting a small piece of love into each and every single one in hopes that it would calm down his heartbeat that was beating dangerously fast.

Nothing in this world was enough to prove how much he loved you. So, he can only hope that these small kisses filled with his love will someday fill your heart and remind you that you are always loved no matter where you are. 

…

Pei Feng's kisses are like a storm, erratic and appear too fast for you to be able to stop. You'll never know where they will appear from until you're suddenly trapped between him and something, whether it be the door, bed, table… it happens so often to the point that you can say with confidence that you've been pushed onto every single surface that can possibly be leaned on in this world.

… At least, that's what you thought until you were suddenly pulled into a nearby closet without notice. 

"Where have you been?" He asks sharply, eyes glaring into yours as if they wished to pin you down at this very place. The closet was so small that it could barely fit the two of your bodies but that didn't seem to stop the man from thinking otherwise as proven from his arms that were placed on both sides of your head, making the already small space become much more cramped than it was before. 

Any excuses fall onto deaf ears. He cuts through all of them mercilessly until he's had enough and shuts you up with a kiss, taking advantage of your surprise to pry open your lips and slip his tongue into your mouth without a moment's notice.

His kisses are long and passionate, never half hearted as though he wishes to devour your entire being, capture your heart and mind until the only thing that you will ever think of is him, him, him. 

There's nothing that you can do to stop his rampage so just let him kiss you as much as he pleases, allow him to clear up the unease in his heart and feel that his love for you is mutual, not just a fantasy that he has created in his head to fill the empty hole in his heart.

[minkyungseokie]

第二章 | Moving and Meeting the Boss

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names, topics of eating that aren't ED related, but might be triggering to some, DeepL translated languages. Untranslated Chinese, French, and other languages

note; okay! second chapter is now ready. I might start another series based on driver x reader x wag. I sort of rushed through this. I also changed a couple of things

She now contracted meningitis during her F2 days and that was the reason for her leaving, but she told people it was the lack of funds

There has something to do with eating, but it's not an ED

The eating thing is based off of a very adorable mukbang YouTuber named Tzuyang. I also never been to Monaco, so Idk how everything works

Realized she should have a last name since she's Felix's sister

note2; please give me requests for moodboards, blurbs, smaus, or anything else you want for this series. Or just request anything as long as you read my rules and how to request thing

fc; imleslie(Y/n), xavier serrano(Aaron Antognelli), blanca soler(Chiara Lorenzi)

Come Talk to Me | Driven by Destiny Masterlist

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 10 more people to be tagged

Buckle up! This is a long one!!!!!!!!

(My god, Susie is so fucking pretty that I might actually cry)

In the now packed-up house, Y/n gazed around. "Are you all packed up?" Her brother asked as he crossed his arms next to her. Chan sighed, "I'm going to miss coming over to your house and hanging out," he said, looking around the house. With a soft smile that showed off her sharp teeth, Y/n looked at her brother, "He'll miss popping by my house during random times when the homeless orphans don't have work to do and mooching off me until he needs to go home to Korea." Y/n teased, pinching his freckled cheeks.

Chan giggled at Felix's expression and looked away, clearing his throat when Felix's glare turned to him. The long-haired male slapped his sister's hand away gently and tried to keep his scowl before giving up and breaking out into smiles as laughs filled the room. "For real though, I am going to miss you." Felix said, opening his arms for Y/n to enter, "Aw, I'm going to miss you too, but you can come visit me anytime you want in Monaco." Y/n offered, pulling back.

"You too, Channie. You and the rest of the derelict unparented are free to come visit me in Monaco when you want." Y/n said, opening her arms up to the shorter male. "Why does this feel like I'm sending my little sister off?" Chan asked, gladly accepting the hug that was offered, "You are basically family, mate." Felix assured, wrapping his arms around both his sister and his best friend. The group continued to hug until there was a loud honk heard in front of the house, "Well, I guess we should get this stuff into the truck." Y/n said, letting go of the two singers to grab one of the nearest boxes.

Y/n lugged the box to the truck where a mover stood, ready to grab the box from her hands and put it in the truck, "I'll take that, sir." The worker offered. Y/n froze and stared at the mover, "Excuse me?" Y/n asked, "Oh? Did I say something wrong?" The worker questioned, looking at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, "I am not a man. Please don't assume because I have masculine features." Y/n said, steeling her nerves. Y/n wasn't a confrontational person, but over the years, resentment had built up enough for her to tell someone off when they called her a man.

Her boobs were prominent enough for people to know that she wasn't a man and she was wearing a sports bra with flannel, how the hell did the man assume she was one as well? "I'm sorry, I didn't know--" "I think you did know, but it's whatever. Don't do it again." Y/n huffed, turning around and walking away.

Y/n entered the home again and grabbed a box aggressively, huffing dramatically. Felix and Chan shared looks before putting the boxes they had in their possession down, "Hey, what's wrong?" Chan questioned.

Y/n shook her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She sometimes felt like it was irrational of her to get so upset by someone assuming she was a man, but at the same time, anyone would get upset by being called the wrong gender.

Y/n squared her shoulders and picked up another box before turning to look at the two with a smile, "It's nothing, mate. Just a bit of an annoyance." Y/n then turned and walked out with the box in her hands.

The trio made their way back and forth until all the boxes were in the truck. Now, they stood on the lawn watching as the movers grabbed the furniture and loaded it onto the truck, "Y'know, we're actually going to miss you." Chan spoke up, continuing to watch the movers work. "I know. That's why I said you're free to visit me in Monaco. I'll also try to visit you and in Seoul whenever I can." Y/n assured, throwing her arms around each of the boy's shoulders and giving them an awkward side hug.

"We know. We'll try to visit when we can too." Felix said, laying his head on her arm with Changbin following suit, "We're done, ma'am. We'll be taking this to the sea freight now unless there is something else you need." The mover looked at the tall half-Asian with a pointed look, asking if there was anything she needed or if were they good.

"You're good to go. Thank you." Y/n said, nodding at the mover. The trio watched as the movers packed up and drove away, "What time do you leave?" Felix asked after a few moments of silence, "Three o'clock in the morning. Seeing as my insomnia is so bad that I can't fall asleep, I'll probably be up and out by two. Do you mind dropping my keys off at the realtor office safe drop box? I won't be able to do it since I leave at three." Y/n said.

"Yeah, we can do that. We'll be dropping you off anyway." Chan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

"Yah, wake up. It's two." Felix hissed as if there were others in the house.

Y/n groaned and swatted Felix's hands away before turning onto her side and snuggling into the blankets, "Y/n, it's time to wake up." Chan said, joining Felix at the side of the hotel bed Y/n was sleeping in. The two put their hands on her and looked at each other, nodding before violently shaking Y/n back and forth.

"搞什么鬼?!" Y/n yelled in Chinese after being woken up so violently, turning to stare at her brothers with wide eyes, "Sorry, you wouldn't wake up, so we decided to shake you until you woke up." Chan snickered, signing as he spoke, looking away as Y/n glared at him and Felix. 

Y/n sighed and threw the blankets off of her body, "Jesus, dude. You could've kept trying to wake me up gently." The dark-haired woman scowled, reaching over to grab the external part of her cochlear implant and the hearing aid for her other ear. Felix grabbed the hearing aid and helped her put it into her ear, "When are you getting your other cochlear?" Felix questioned, making sure the volume was on the level Y/n always kept it on.

"I get the second implant after I start my new job. I'll have to tell the boss about it as soon I do the interview. Especially since I forgot to tell her about my lack of hearing." Y/n mumbled, looking at Chan and Felix from the side since she knew that they would be giving her judgy looks.

Y/n turned to see that they were indeed giving her disappointed looks as if she wasn't taller than Chan, older than Felix, and more intimidating than the both of them combined. "Stop looking at me like that! I was trying to get the application in as fast as I could. I simply just...forgot to put it on my application." Y/n explained, looking down and scratching her cheek. When she looked back up, they were still looking at her with disappointment, "Stop looking at me like you're my parents and I just got caught smoking a fat one....or something cause I wouldn't know how they would look at me." Y/n quickly added the second part and gave the two boys a awkward smile.

Felix and Chan sighed in unison, "Okay, well, I guess we can't really be that upset with you since you'll be telling her face-to-face. Get up and get ready. Felix picked out some clothes for you to wear." Chan said, pointing to the end of the bed where some clothes were laid out for her, Y/n sighed, running a hand through her thick hair, "Okay, whatever. Please move out of the way." 

Chan stepped back as Y/n swung her long legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the floor, grabbing the clothes and studying them before going to the bathroom to get changed while Felix and Chan checked to make sure that everything was properly packed. Y/n exited the bathroom wearing a pair of high waisted brown trousers, a white collared button down with a brown, beige and white sweater vest one top.

Y/n sat down on the bed and picked up the socks that were sitting on the bed, putting them on while Felix and Chan continued to talk, "Y/n, do you want to get some McDonald's on the way or something?" Felix asked.

"I just want a coffee and a bagel honestly. We can get something from the bagel shop nearby. I heard they have some good bagels and coffee." Y/n suggested, putting on her boots and grabbing the glasses that were on the nightstand next to the bed. "I'm down." Chan said, looking to Felix, "I'm okay with that." The blonde shrugged, grabbing Y/n's suitcase and pulling it out into the hallway.

Y/n stood up and looked around, making sure that she had left nothing on the ground

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜����𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Y/n turned and looked at her brother as she got ready to board the plane, "Okay, so you'll call when you've landed in Monaco, right?" Felix inquired, holding her wrists lightly. Y/n rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I promise that I'll call you as soon as I get to my new home in Monaco. Don't worry about me. Just make sure that you take care of yourself. All of you." Y/n gave a pointed look at Chan.

"What? Why'd you look at me like that?" Chan chuckled nervously, "I'm telling you to take care of yourself. You tend not to do that." Y/n joked, looking him in the side. Chan jumped away as if he was shocked and held his side, "No promises, but I'll try."

"Flight 35 A is now boarding."

Y/n looked over at where people were beginning to line up, "Alright, it seems I've got to go." The girl pointed behind her with a thumb. Felix pulled his sister into a hug and laid his head on her shoulder, "You better call me when you land. I'll fly to Monaco myself if you don't." He said voice muffled into her sweater vest.

"Okay, let go. I have to board." Y/n groaned, pushing the blonde away from her playfully, "See you, Y/n." Chan said, giving the girl a quick hug. Y/n grabbed her carry-on and boarded the plane, "Make sure the other Stray Animals are around when I call. I want to talk to all of you." Y/n spoke.

After a long flight, of which she slept through most, she hopped off the flight feeling groggy and completely disoriented. To be quite honest, she just wanted to go to sleep in a bed with thick blankets and the fan blasting on her face so she didn't overheat while sleeping. The thing was, she wouldn't be able to meet up with the person who sold her the house until the next day because the offices were closed and her stuff wouldn't arrive until the next day either, so she had to get a hotel for the night.

Y/n groaned as she rolled her neck, attempting to massage the stiffness out of her shoulder and neck as she entered the Uber, "Uh, Hôtel Fairmont Monte Carlo, s'il vous plaît." Y/n spoke in a tired and dull tone.

The driver nodded and pulled off. Y/n pulled out her phone and pressed on the contact of the one person she knew would be up. It was 9:41 PM in Monaco, which meant it was 4:41 AM in Seoul currently and there was one person she could guarantee would be up at that time.

Chan.

Y/n pulled out a pair of headphones with a large-diameter ear cup that completely encloses her ear and audio processor and put them on. Y/n looked out the window while the phone rang, "Hey! You're in Monaco, I'm guessing." Chan said as his face popped up on the screen. "Yeah, I'm in an Uber right now. I'm heading to the hotel." Y/n mumbled, mouth stretching into a little yawn.

"Oh, yeah. Your stuff isn't there yet, is it?" Chan asked, looking at something off to the side, "No, it'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I'll be contacting Mrs. Wolff tomorrow as well to schedule the interview. The jet lag was going to be a bitch." Y/n sighed, leaning against the window. "Yeah, it is. What time is it there?" Chan questioned, "It's, uh, 9:43 PM." Y/n answered, dragging her eyes away from the fogged-up window to the face on her phone.

"Have you eaten?" Chan questioned, "No, not yet. Have you?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I ate some ramen earlier. I'm just snacking on some honey butter chips right now." Chan responded, lifting the yellow bag to the screen.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by the driver, "Madame, nous sommes arrivés à votre destination."

Y/n looked out the window and saw they were indeed in front of the luxury hotel, "D'accord, merci, monsieur. Je vous souhaite une excellente soirée. Sorry, Chan. I have to go. Tell Lixie and the others to text me when they can." Y/n said, exiting the car.

"Okay, I will. Have a good night." Chan said, "Have a good day, mate." Y/n said before hanging up. Y/n pocketed her phone and grabbed her items from the trunk. She waved at the driver in thanks and made her way into the hotel. It was a random one that she picked out and it was probably way too luxurious for a one-night stay, but it was the closest to where her new home would be and she was way too tired to find an even cheaper hotel.

She checked in and paid for the room, trudging up the stairs in a slumped-over position. As soon as she found her room, she stood up and unlocked it as if she was being followed by someone and had to enter quickly. Y/n threw the door open and closed, dropping her bags where she stood before making her way to the bed and getting in

Y/n woke up the next day and immediately ordered an Uber. Her items would be arriving today and she already slept in pretty late. Y/n's dark brown eyes swept the room until they landed on the digital clock on the dresser. It was 2:52 PM. The truck with her stuff would be there around four and the realtor would be there around 3:00, so she had to get going pretty quickly. Luckily, her Uber was on its way and she would be at her new address in no time.

Honk!

Y/n's head snapped up once she had heard the honking of the horn. She could only assume that they were there for her and the chime from her phone telling her that her ride has arrived only confirmed her suspicion. Y/n quickly gathered her items and sped and walked out of the front of the building with her hand up in a wave to show that it was her who had ordered the Uber. Y/n pulled up the trunk after the driver had opened it from the inside of the car.

Y/n put her suitcase and carry-on bag into the trunk and closed it, rushing to get to the backseat and get into the car. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco, s'il vous plaît." Y/n said breathily, pulling her phone out of the bag she had and opening the notes app. Seeing as she would have to move all of her stuff in, of course with the help of the moving pros, and there were some other things she needed to do through the day, she decided that it would be a good idea to make a to-do list.

To do for today and tomorrow

Move my stuff into the house

Rearrange everything to my liking

Unpack everything

Go grocery shopping

Call Mrs. Wolff back

Y/n reread the list over and over to see if anything else came to mind, but when nothing did, she pocketed her phone again and stared out the window. Monaco was a truly gorgeous place and she could see herself living out the rest of her life in this beautiful country.

She could definitely see herself finding a man or woman, who would most definitely be an F1 fan seeing as the country basically lived and breathed F1, finding a much better home, settling down, and having a family.

It wasn't something she wanted anytime soon since she was still pretty young, but it was something she could see happening when she was ready.

Actually, now that Y/n thought about it, and as the car passed by the water, she doesn't think any house, which was actually one of those apartments where you have a whole floor to yourself, would be better than the one she got. It cost an arm and a leg to get and she would be able to afford it after she finally started the PA position.

The flat included three bedrooms, one bathroom, two shower rooms, one separate toilet and a kitchen. In total, it has four rooms. Two underground parking spaces provide space for any vehicles and a balcony that overlooked the water. It that high street, city center, bus station, and shopping center all within 500 m, so it was well situated.

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes. This was the start of her new life. While she was is Monaco, she was going to be a different person then what she was in Australia. Gone is the shy, antisocial, introverted girl that lived in Sydney and in is the girl who is still the same thing, but trying to be more confident.

"Pardonnez-moi, madame. Nous sommes arrivés." The driver announced, "Hm? Oh, merci beaucoup." Y/n thanked as she exited the car. She waited until the driver popped the trunk and then grabbed her things, "Merci encore, madame. J'espère que vous passerez une excellente soirée."

The driver gave Y/n a smile, "C'est très gentil de votre part. J'espère que vous passerez également une excellente soirée." She responded before driving off, giving Y/n a wave as she drove off.

"Miss Lee?" A voice with a thick accent called out from behind her. Y/n whirled around to face a tall man with dark, curly hair, a chisled jaw, and broad shoulders. It was the realtor, "Ah, Mr. Tomatis. How are you doing today?" Y/n greeted, looking to the side so she didn't make eye contact. "I am well. Listen, I would love to stay and talk with you, but I have an important showing to do, so here's your keys. Enjoy your new home." Mr. Tomatis gently place the keys into her hands before walking off.

"Oh-kay. Guess it's time to check out the new place in person." Y/n took a deep breath, trilling as she exhaled. The girl made her way into the building until she reached her floor. Y/n put the key into the door and unlocked it, "Home sweet home, I guess. Once I step through this door, my new life officially starts." Y/n mumbled, resting her forehead against the cool wood. Y/n opened the door and wheeled her suitcase in behind her, "Woah, this is sick!" Y/n awed, looking around her home.

She left the suitcase and carry-on near the entrance and walked around, looking through each room and mentally mapping what went into each room and how she would lay everything out.

Once she was done with her mental mapping, her hands fell to her sides and she looked around with a flat face and eyes dulled due to boredom.

She didn't know what to do now.

The truck wouldn't be there until four and it was only... Y/n looked down at the screen of her phone, which displayed the time in a large blue font...3:12.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Y/n's head. She had to schedule the interview and was advised to do so once she was settled down enough, but since she had time to waste, why not do it now? Y/n opened her contacts and pressed on Susie's, making sure it was on speaker, "Hello?" The sweet Irish voice that Y/n had heard last time, answered the phone.

"Uh, yes. It's Y/n Lee. I'm calling to set up my interview for the PA position." Y/n stammered, "Oh, Ms. Lee! I've been expecting your call back. I assume that means you're in Monaco?" Susie asked, "Yeah, uh, yes...ma'am." Y/n confirmed, nodding as of the woman on the other line could see her.

"Great, I know that you're going to need some time to settle down completely, so the interview will not be taking place any time this week. How about the next week around 10:00 AM? What day works for you?" Susie questioned, "I can do next week. How about Wednesday?" Y/n pulled out a pen and pad of paper to write down the date and time. "Wednesday works perfectly. Alright, I will e you then." Susie said.

"See you then." Y/n confirmed before pressing the 'end call' button. Just as Y/n put her phone on the counter, she got another call but this time from the company that had her stuff, telling her that they had arrived early and were ready to move her stuff in.

Y/n ran out the front door and down the stairs to see that they had indeed arrived earlier than planned and were already beginning to unload the lighter stuff, "Hey, I didn't expect you to be so early. Please, follow me and I'll show you where my apartment is." Y/n said, grabbing a box and leading the way to her floor.

After showing the movers where she was, Y/n went back down to grab another, but before she could make it too far, someone stopped her. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're moving in. Do you want some help?" A tall slender man with dark hair and dark eyes. The man in front of her was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome and Y/n was the definition of awkward around pretty people.

Y/n opened her mouth to decline, probably stutter through the sentence before falling too embarrassed to continue speaking, when another voice spoke up. "Babe, what are you doing? Who's this?" A woman who absolutely gorgeous saddeled herself next to the man, looking up at Y/n with a raised, perfectly sculpted, eyebrow. "I-uh..." Y/n's eyes darted around frantically, trying to find any way out of the situation.

She knew she said she was going to be a totally different person than she was in Australia, but she had the worst night of sleep where her body got too hot with the blankets, too cold with the fan, and still too hot with both. She also kept waking up randomly during the night, feeling dizzy and disoriented. She also may be up and doing things, but she was severely jet lagged and wanted to do nothing, but drop dead on the floor and sleep until she could physically no longer sleep.

Y/n was going to be quite honest, she could use the help and it would make things go a lot faster, but how was she, a socially awkward person, to talk to two very pretty people? 

Answer; she didn't.

She walked past them with a quick 'excuse me' pretending like she didn't hear them. If they got upset with her, she'll just say her hearing aids weren't on or turned up enough for her to hear that they were speaking to her. "Wait! Ma'am, hold on." The man called out, following Y/n outside and grabbing her wrist gently, stopping her in her tracks. Y/n steeled herself and whirled around with a fake smile, "Oh, sorry. Can I, uh, can I help you?" Y/n asked, eyes darting between the man, who was giving her a smile, and the woman, who was scowling at her with her arms crossed.

"Yes, you can help us. My boyfriend asked you a question and you just walked past us as if you didn't hear. Are you deaf or something?" The girl sneered.

"Yes."

"Pa-pardon?" The girl asked, dropping her arms, Y/n turned her head to the side, showing the couple her cochlear and the the hearing aid, "I-I am in fact...deaf." Y/n muttered, turning to go get more boxes. Behind her she could hear the flustered man scolding his girlfriend while she stammered out flustered responses, 

"How could you-?!"

 "I..I didn't know, okay? Hop off my balls."

"Woman, what balls would I be hopping off of?"

"I... You... Just shut up! We should be helping anyway."

The two stopped their flustered play fighting as Y/n walked past. They both grabbed boxes and followed her, "Hey, we are so sorry." The man spoke up, speed walking so he was next to Y/n, "Especially me. I didn't know you were actually deaf and even if you weren't, I wasn't being the nicest. It's just, and this isn't an excuse, there have been some... how do I say this?" The girl asked, looking up.

"Issues." The man supplied, the woman snapped her fingers and pointed at her boyfriend before quickly putting her hand back under the box as it began to tip over in her hands, "Issues. We have had some issues with our last neighbours and it made me sort of defensive. Sorry about that. My name Chiara Lorenzi and this is my boyfriend..." Chiara trailed off so that he could speak for himself.

"Aaron Antognelli. And you are?" Aaron asked, depositing the box on the floor of Y/n's apartment, "Y/n Lee." Y/n answered. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope we get to become very good friends in the near future." Chiara said, nudging the taller girl as she and Aaron walked out to grab more boxes.

With the extra two sets of hands, Y/n and the movers were able to get everything inside quickly and it was a good thing too since the sky began to dark with thick rain clouds. "Um, thank you for your help." Y/n muttered, going into her house and beginning to close the door when a hand appeared between the door and the frame, keeping her from closing it fully, "Hold on there, kangaroo. Don't you want help unpacking?" Aaron asked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask for that. You have done quite a bit a-and I don't know you well enough." Y/n frantically shook her head. The couple shared a look before turning back to Y/n, "Please, we... I insist. We want to make up for the rocky way we greeted you. Of course, we won't force you to and if you don't want us to help you, we'll leave." Chiara said.

Y/n sighed and nodded, opening the door fully to let the couple in. She didn't know them or trust them, but she also needed all the help she could get. That, and she was shit at decorating, so it would be nice to enlist the help of someone else.

Chiara and Aaron looked around, "Why does your apartment look so much better than ours?" Aaron asked, "I thought they were all the same." Y/n said, looking at her spacious place. "Nah, yours has much more space, but it could be the fact that you're living alone that makes it seem that way." Aaron shrugged.

Chiara whirled around and clapped her hands together, "Alright, let's get this done."

With a yelp, Y/n fell out of her bed as the alarm she had set on her phone blared in her ear that contained the hearing aid. She had so much fun with Aaron and Chiara the previous night that she ended up going to be later than she usually liked to whenever she had something important to do the next day. After the day they helped her unpack, the two quickly became friends Y/n and they had been hanging out with each other ever since.

Y/n groaned and hobbled over to a cabinet near her bed where she kept her medicine, "Shit, getting drunk the day before my interview was not smart." Y/n grumbled, opening a bottle of pills and a bottle of water from her mini fridge.

Y/n gathered her clothing and put it on the end of the bed then went and took a scalding hot shower that helped her sober up. Y/n gave a quiet groan as she messaged her shoulders, "Man, my shoulders are stiff." She complained.

Stepping out of the shower, Y/n put on her outfit, which consisted of wool wide-leg pants, a skims t-shirt bodysuit, a nocturne cropped jacket, and a pair of heeled patchwork boots. Looking in the mirror, Y/n narrowed her eyes, "Hmm, wait." Y/n looked around to the clothes she had thrown everywhere when looking for a good outfit.

Her room was covered in an explosion of beige, brown, white, and black. There was not a lick of color in any of her wardrobe, save for her shoes, which were still not brightly colored, so they still fit her aesthetic. "I need to add some color to my wardrobe." Y/n muttered, before grabbing her things and making her way down to where the Uber was waiting for her.

She gave the driver the address of a café that Susie had suggested, Café de Paris, and  off they went. Y/n's heart thudded so hard in her chest that she was pretty sure that the beat was coming from her stomach rather than her chest. Y/n ran a hand through her long, messy hair and tried to calm the nervous feeling in her stomach.

The driver looked at Y/n through the rear mirror and cleared his throat, "Nerveux? Vous avez un rendez-vous ou une raison de vous énerver?" He asked, causing Y/n to jump from the sudden addressing. "Euh, oui. J'ai un entretien très important. J'ai déjà obtenu le poste, mais je suis encore nerveux." Y/n answered shakily, wringing her hands together nervously.

The driver studied Y/n through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, "Eh, don't be nervous. It must be just a 'get to know you' interview." The driver said, switching to English and waving a hand to the side as if he was brushing Y/n's nervousness away.

"You're right. Merci, Monsieur." Y/n sighed, leaning back against the headrest. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Susie sat at a table in Café de Paris, occasionally looking at her watch as she waited for Y/n to arrive. Admittedly, she had arrived a bit too early, but she was excited. She had been looking forward to finally starting the F1 academy and with Y/n working by her side, she'd make these girls into Formula One champions.

Susie continued looking out the window for Y/n, even though she has no idea what Y/n looked like at all. Y/n walked through the door and approached Susie from behind, "Mrs. Wolff?" Y/n spoke up, causing the blonde woman to jump up. As soon as they were face-to-face, both women froze.

Now, Y/n was open about her sexuality and what she liked, but Susie wasn't. Susie had never been interested in women and she wasn't one who would ever fall in love when she already had a husband and a beautiful son, but Susie's heart raced looking at the younger woman and she couldn't understand why. Susie had no problem admitting when another woman is beautiful and the one in front of her? Well, she was drop dead gorgeous in Susie's eyes.

"Ah, Ms. Lee. You startled me." Susie chuckled, putting a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart. Whether it was racing because of Y/n's beauty or because she genuinely got startled, she didn't know. Either way, the woman in front of her made her heart race. "My apologies, Mrs. Wolff. I didn't mean to scare you." Y/n apologized, giving the older woman a shallow bow instinctively.

"Shall we sit and begin?" Susie asked, gesturing to the chair. Y/n nodded and sat down across from the older woman. "Okay, remember that you already have the job. This is just to get to know you a bit more. Do you want to order something or do you just want to start?" Susie questioned.

"I would like to order something." Y/n muttered, Susie gestured to someone and a waiter came over, "Are you ladies ready to order?" The waiter asked politely. "Yes, I would like a chocolate chaud and panna cotta parfumeé au citron." Susie told the waiter who wrote it down before turning to Y/n, "I would like Le Chou Profiterole and the Irish coffee. Please." Y/n said.

Once the waiter finished writing down their orders and left, Susie turned back to Y/n with a smile that made Y/n want to throw herself off a cliff. She was so pretty and Y/n didn't think Susie knew just how gorgeous she was.

"Okay, let's start while we're waiting for our orders. Can you tell me about yourself?" Susie questioned, "Oh okay, um... I'm Y/n Lee, I am half Chinese and Half Australian, I am 23 years old, I want to do modeling in my spare time, I like surfing and skiing, and I used to be a Formula Two driver before I contracted meningitis and had to stop." Y/n replied.

"You contracted meningitis?" Susie asked, "I did. I lost hearing in my right ear," Y/n turned her head and moved her hair, showing her cochlear, "I had to get a cochlear for my right ear and I have a hearing aid in my left because I'm losing my hearing in that ear. After I got my surgery, I just decided not to continue driving even though I would love to continue." Y/n shrugged.

Susie nodded, "If you had the chance, would you try and continue to drive in F2?" Susie questioned. Y/n sighed and looked around the café, "I honestly never thought about it. I wanted to but I didn't have enough money to continue, so I thought that my chances were over. If I had the chance to do it again, I don't know if I would take it. I'm turning 23 soon and I fell like I'm getting too old." Y/n said, looking up as the waiter arrived with their stuff.

"Thank you/Merci." Susie and Y/n said simultaneously. Y/n brought the glass mug up to her lips and took a sip of the drink. Y/n put the mug down and looked at Susie again, "What are your goals for the next five years?" Susie asked.

"Hmm, I think I still see myself working in the motorsports world or perhaps attempting to further my modeling career. Or both." Y/n answered, picking up one of the cream puff and taking a bite, refraining from making any sort of noise. 

"Do you consider yourself a passionate person when it comes to this sport?" Susie inquired, Y/n nodded as she swallowed the pastry in her mouth, "I was..am...Before I got meningitis, I was obsessed with being a Formula One driver. I was about as passionate about it like most of the guys on the grid. It was my passion." Y/n explained.

Susie nodded and sat back in her chair, "That'll be all." She said, picking up her spoon and eating some of her panna cotta parfumeé au citron. Y/n paused halfway from the plate where she was reaching for another mini creampuff, "That's all?" She asked, "That's all." Susie reiterated 

"Okay." Y/n nodded. She was honestly so unsure as to why she needed to do the interview when she was only going to be asked about four questions, "Now, let's get to know each other since we're going to be working closely together. My name is Suzanne Wolff, but you can call me Susie. I am Scottish, 39 years old, I have a wonderful husband who is the team principal of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team, and I have a gorgeous fiver-year-old son named Jack." Susie introduced herself.

The woman held out a hand for Y/n to shake, "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Wolff. I look forward to working with you." Y/n said, grabbing the older woman's hand and shaking it firmly. Susie waved off her formalities, "Oh, please. Call me Susie. We'll be working close together, so we might as well drop the formalities." She chuckled.

The two women continued to talk about random topics, getting to know each other more and more. The two became quick friends and even made plans to hang outside of work sometime in the future and even talked about Y/n meeting her son and husband since she would have to meet them eventually.

By the time Y/n was in her Uber and on her way home, it was well into the afternoon and Y/n had a small permanent smile on her face as she thought about the older woman.

Y/n hated to admit it, but she tended to catch feelings for people quite easily. She didn't and never would believe in love at first sight, but she did believe that one can get to know someone well enough to gain some sort of feelings for someone. 

And Y/n could tell that the bubbling feeling in her stomach was her feeling giddy and anxious. She was beginning to feel something for the older married woman, but she brushed it off. It was just a small puppy crush, and even if it wasn't, nothing would ever come of it. Susie was a heterosexual married woman with a family and if there was one thing Y/n could never be, it was a homewrecker.

 Susie entered her home happily. Her husband and son greeting her at the entrance, "Hello, liebling. How was the interview? I can assume it went well since you're smiling from ear to ear." Toto said, kissing his wife on the forehead. "She's perfect, Toto. She is everything I wanted and more in a personal assistant. Not to mention she's absolutely gorgeous. If she were to go to a GP, people would assume she is some sort of supermodel WAG." Susie said absentmindedly.

Toto gave his wife an odd look as she bent down to greet their five-year-old. His wife was what some people would call a girl's girl and she definitely has complimented other women before, but the way she had talked about the woman she had met with made him feel curious. She had never sounded so infatuated with anyone other than him and Jack.

Of course, Toto knew that his wife was not going to cheat on him and especially not with another woman, but there was just a feeling in his gut that said there was something more than just a regular excitement to be getting the F1 Academy project off the ground. 

"Yeah? Is that right?" Toto asked, "Yes. She used to be a F2 driver too, so she is the most perfect candidate for the job. I think you and Jackie would lover her." Susie said, kissing the top of Jack's head and carrying him into the kitchen.

Toto shook his head as he chuckled. He didn't know what the woman was like, but she must have been super amazing because she left such an impression on his wife that she was positively gushing about the new PA.

By the time Susie stopped talking about the new PA, Toto himself couldn't wait to meet her and he was now sharing the excitement that she was practically projecting off her in waves.

This was the start of something new and both Wolff's could tell.

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @evie-119 @xoscar03 @cheyxfu @laur2608 @sunnylikesfrogs @goldenmoonbeam @victorharrington @only-nope

Unable to tag all of you

This one was over 6k words. I felt like I needed to give you guys this since I had been away for so long.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 9 more people to be tagged

[meidnightrain]

SCENT OF SUMMER BREEZE - a 6reeze event

❝ take a breath and wipe your sweat, till it feels like summer once again ❞

SUMMARY: the scent of sunshine still lingers on, the breeze carries the memories that bloomed with him as you wait for the summer to kiss your cheeks once more

WARNINGS: reader is gn in all fics, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, tw will be put in fics itself on a later date

NOTES: this is a yorushika inspired event, with all the fics being named after their songs! do not send asks to my inbox asi won’t respond to them or may forget about them. updates may be sporadic and inconsistent. alternatively you can follow the tag 🎐 - scent of summer breeze.

TAGLIST (only reply to this post) : @akutasoda, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @luvkvni, @kaiserkisser, @kissingkzuha, @veekoko, @lillian-llumina,

BLOOMING IN THAT SUMMER - aether

modern au, gn reader, childhood friends to lovers

you’ve never had the heart to confess to your crush and things take a turn when he leaves on the last day of summer

EAT THE WIND - venti

canon timeline, reader is gn, bartender x alcoholic

as someone who’s always given love advice, you’ve never given it a try until a drunk bard stumbles in one summer day

FIREWORKS BENEATH MY SHOES - xiao

modern au, reader is gn, doomed summer romance

fireworks are beautiful and colorful but short-lived, ending with a bang just like your summer fling with him

GHOST IN A FLOWER - kazuha

high school au, reader is gn, friends to lovers

eating popsicles under the summer sky, dancing barefooted by the shore, you pray these memories won’t fade like ghosts

SPRING THIEF - heizou

canon timeline, reader is gn, forbidden romance

meetings under the cherry blossom tree have always been a summer dream when two lovers are on different sides in a war

THE LYING MOON - wanderer

canon timeline, reader is gn, youkai x puppet

three times he has met you under the lying moon, each with a different name but this fourth summer, you do not know his.

© AVENTURINTUS 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter word count: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You and Joel get closer to one another after a close call. Brief mentions/descriptions of smut. Mentions of violence.

☝🏻 I WILL NO LONGER BE ADDING NEW TAGS due to some of them not working as they should, despite me tagging, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

It’s different when you wake. He’s different.

It’s hard for your brain to translate, but you can feel that the tension in him has shifted a little; and not just from massaging him - although you can still feel the warmth of his skin blazing on your fingertips, even now.

But it's like a small part of that tension has been squeezed out through a juicer and all that is left is the pulp to discard.

You can feel it in yourself too. Something scabby has fallen off of you somewhere. Fresh, glossy skin has grown underneath. Healed.

You lay in the cot peering at him as Joel sits in the wicker chair watching the sun rise. You see its light moving slowly across his face, changing the shadows around his eyes, making them softer where they were once harsh. 

His fist is to his chin; thumb swiping back and forth against his bottom lip as he stares vacantly out at the valley. Just a slow - somewhat teasing in its agony - back and forth across the chapped skin as you watch, mesmerised for a little while.

It washes everything else away for a few moments. 

There’s an elevated, yet unspoken, understanding existing between you now; a connection that’s been reconnected somewhere with copper wires. You can feel it. Your mutual pain tethering you like stitches in the skin.

If you had known this, back in the day, that you would both have to suffer through so much to get back here, back to one another… Well, you might’ve reconsidered that perilous path, as weak as you are. He might’ve too.

Or you both might’ve hurtled down it at warp speed, colliding in a vibrant kaleidoscope of kinetic energy.

Everything happens for a reason, it doesn’t matter. It resonates in you as you feel some acquired peace between the slow, weighted absorption into the layers of your epidermis, that you had to go through all of that to get here.

To get to this little moment right now where you can just observe him and bask in the viability of it all.

It brightens you somewhere; a small luminescent glow within all the murk, to know that Joel endured and survived. And so did you. And here you both are, brought together again after an insurmountable feat of improbability, implausibility. Against all the fucking odds.

Whether its fate, destiny, whatever. It doesn’t matter. 

You're just both here; right where you're supposed to be.

And that has to mean something. Surely he has to feel that sucker punch to the jaw too? Feel the bloodied teeth plink from his mouth onto the gravel. Surely he can’t brush it off with a shrug of those broad shoulders and a gruff utterance about fate being a simple ruse and nothing more?

You think back to his words, and even the ones he doesn’t say. They still batter around your head, trying to find a way in through your orifices.

Ya needed me, so many times, n’ I wasn’t there.

And you did. You never stopped needing him. You still need him now, still want him. You need him to tell you that you made it back to him as he fills you full of that sweet relief and elation.

You need him as you both try to navigate cresting over the horizon of the billowing pain that haunts the cobwebbed crypts of your souls. You feel it tiresomely, twisting in your skin, uprooting your skeleton from the endowment of your worn and fibrous muscles.

You can still hear them, the screams. Still feel the blood slicking through your fingers, but it seems lessened somehow. The constant din in your ears is now muting, turning down.

And you know it’s because of him, because of Joel.

That incendiary presence of him fanning the fires again to burn it all away until there’s nothing left. You can feel it licking on your skin, prickling, spreading. Engulfing you. You can smell your hair burning, feel your skin boiling and blistering and you can no longer breathe as you become flaky ash piles at his boots.

Stifling, you sit up pulling the blanket off, and Joel turns to you. He drops his fist and tosses you a small smile that sinks into your chest cavity warming you still.

It’s sincere; it blooms into his cheeks revealing the dimple he never outgrew. It’s the same smile he always had for you. A smile of contentment, of satiation. He looks so different when he smiles, young again. That no worry has ever touched his face and left a bruise of tainted sadness. It’s his beautifully familiar face that has haunted you for so long. 

You can see it in him too; that slow erosion, layer by heavily guarded layer. Peeling him back like silky onion skins to reveal the naked core that makes tears sting down your face. You know that you being here, back in his life, is a welcome relief.

How could it not be when he smiles at you like this?  

You return it through your sleepy eyes. You glance at the clocks and they all read just past five in the morning, or thereabouts. 

You stand and so does he. You step forward, and so does he.

You dance that unspoken waltz as Joel passes you to take up root in the cot, ready to drift off in your lingering warmth, and you sit in the chair, your turn to watch. 

But as you pass him, your fingertips brush and you can swear you can hear the static crackles of electricity. 

You definitely feel them as they zap up your fingers and into your arm.

Hours later and Joel stirs from the cot. 

He pushes the heels of his large, calloused palms into his eyes as he wipes the sleep from them and his head feels unusually clear. 

He realises, as he wakes, that it’s the first time in a long time that his dreams have been quiet, silent. Like the centre of a hurricane; no noise, no bullshit.

There was nothing; just a peaceful calm that he sank into for a few blissful hours, and he marvels at how this must have been what it was like to sleep before the outbreak happened.

He’d just simply forgotten that it could be like this. 

But he’s sceptical. He knows this so-called calm will be fleeting, it always is. But he’s going to take the reprieve whilst it’s offered to him. 

He hears you at the stove as he blinks back info focus, he rises as you put a chipped plate inside his hands and smile warmly at him in that way you used to. Like you were always so happy to see him again.

He joins you at the wicker chairs and you both eat with some quiet contentment swimming around your ankles.  

Joel smirks as he slips a piece of meat into his mouth with his finger and thumb. Chews quietly as he watches you pull yours apart into strips and suck them into your mouth idly as you look out the window. Old habits die hard, he thinks. 

There’s so much about you that is different, yet still the same. Nuances, mannerisms; the way you speak. It’s all you in there, he’s sure of it.

But there’s another you that he’s not fully acquainted with yet. A stronger you, a weaker you. A ying-yang of yourself where there was once only arrogance and self-assuredness. A dreamer and a risk taker. A lover and a fighter.

He watches your lips; their fullness as you lick them and leave a wet sheen that he longs to taste again. He wonders if you taste different now.

Somewhere, in the back of his head, Joel remembers those lips wrapping so amiably around his cock. A renegade thought drops in front of his eyes and he’s forced to spectate.

It’s you, waking him up to see you under the covers as he lifts them up to be met with your face between his legs.

Your tongue is running up the length of him and your eyes, God your fuckin' eyes are staring at him wickedly. Gleaming as you take him fully into your hot, wet mouth.

He gasps and throws his head back and he feels it all over his body; that carnage within him that your mouth causes. That weak, brainless flesh he becomes sinking into the mattress as you pull him apart...

Joel clears his throat. Distracting himself as he feels the stirring in his jeans. He reaches for the walkie-talkie after glancing at the clocks and switches it on. 

You continue to eat and gaze out the window at yet another sun filled sky.

You flinch when the walkie-talkie suddenly crackles. Some static buzzes through and Joel twists the frequency dial at the top gently to tune it in.

The buzzing alters between high and low rumbles, and you listen carefully trying to make out anything as you put down your plate.

Joel had said no news was good news. But there is someone talking now; their voice wiry and buried so far beneath all the static it’s hard to make them out.

He raises the walkie-talkie to his left ear and then resorts to pacing as he listens carefully. 

... Branched off… A while ago… Heading north… Casualties…

“What are they saying?” You ask, feeling your body stiffen.

You’re pretty sure you hear the word casualties, but you can’t be sure. Your mind automatically conjures up scenarios that you try to stomp on.

You remind yourself to breathe. They might just be simply checking in. 

“Fuck,” Joel taps the walkie-talkie down heavily in his palm.

“Joel, what are they saying?”

“I can’t fuckin’ hear ‘em whilst ya yappin, can I?” He bites back hissing, trying to decipher the words. His eyes looking at you, but also not as he listens again. 

... Outpost three…

“That's us,” you say. Fuck!

“Quiet!” Joel paces again, opening up the door. He steps outside trying to get a better signal and drown you out. 

You sit back in the chair sighing, squeezing your fingers in and out of fists. You can still hear the crackles and fuzzed voices coming in and out as Joel stands just behind the door, his broad back to you, hand on his hip. 

Something's wrong. You can feel it. Feel the coldness of it creep up your spine and into your shoulders.

“Shit!” He marches back in and reaches for one of the tins on the shelf. He throws one open and rummages around for another battery for the walkie-talkie. 

You shake your head wearily.

“Something’s happened.” You say, feeling the panic rise up on your skin. Your throat runs tight and dry. 

“We don’t know that. We don’t fuckin’ know anything right now.” He gruffs. “C’mon on ya son of a bitch!” He seethes as he twists off the back of the walkie-talkie.

It’s rattling him too; you can see it as he tries to steady the subtle shake in his fingers. He throws you a look, one that's intended to be soft, reasurring. You're certain of it. But it's hard outlines are etched with concern.

Your heartbeat has settled into your ears, blood pumping. A sickly feeling bubbles in your stomach acids; the meat on the verge of making a ghastly return.

You stand, pacing now, with your hands wringing at themselves. You can’t help but let the worry creep in. In fact, it starts to flood in.

You glance out the window as Joel snaps the back of the walkie-talkie back on. 

“Joel.” You murmur, the dread filling you, stopping you in your tracks. 

Your eyes widen, so does your mouth. You can see them. Oh God!

There’s three of them; four, maybe five. Now six. 

“Joel!” You gasp frantically as he turns towards the door again. “JOEL!”

He stops; the alarm in your voice tugging his eyes towards the window. Shadows of infected bodies are gathering at the bottom of the hill, more of them appearing from behind the treelines. You can only watch horrified as they increase in number. 

Joel dumps the walkie-talkie and it clatters across the table clumsily. He takes the rifle off the stand and thrusts it in your hands. You start to fill it with bullets as he reaches under the cot and pulls out a hidden shotgun taped up under the slats.

He’s beside you again; his bicep bumping into yours and plucking thick cartridges into his fingers as you both glance up and down at the window like nodding dogs on a dashboard. 

There’s more. Seven, eight, nine-

“You think they broke off from the horde? They were trying to warn us?” A definite panic lodges in the back of your throat, but you swallow it down.

Endure and survive. Come on. You’ve got this. 

Joel grunts a response at you, but you don’t catch it.

You empty the remaining bullets into your pockets and clumsily drop some as they clang to the floor.

It’s alright. You’ve got time. Focus.

“Looks like they’re wandering, they're too far to know we're up here, right? We might get lucky and they’ll pass by...” But you know that’s not what will happen.

They’re a plague that keeps coming and coming. You know that if you don’t deal with this now, you might not be so lucky to get another shot.

It’s the hideous mantra of this world now; kill or be killed.  

“S’possible. Don’t matter.” Joel says, jostled but he keeps his cool. At least from what you can see anyway.

Ten, eleven, twelve-

“We can take them.” You assure him. Although, you’re certain it’s said for yourself.

“Ain’t got no choice. Can’t risk ‘em wanderin' towards the commune.” He puffs.

He looks at you and nods once. He knows that, between the two of you, you can pick them off quickly as you return that solid reassurance back to him. 

More creep up the hill. You hear the horses bray loudly in the stable sensing the death they carry with them - animals always know - and this pulls their attention.

They start running and more appear from out of the trees quickly. 

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

“Shit!” You gasp, cocking the rifle.

“There’s a ladder on the rear, on the right. Get on the roof. Flank me, okay?” Joel instructs you, pulling you away from the window.

You don’t have time to discuss it, argue or agree. You can hear them now. The hissing and screeching that comes from their rabid mouths. Hungry.

“GO!” Joel snaps as you both bundle out the door.

You hear his shots immediately as he fires off, rounding the shack and drawing them towards him, giving you time to get into position.

He needs you to get into position. Needs you to cover him. He needs you.

You’re scrambling for the ladder; hoisting yourself up it as fast as you can go, fire burning in your lungs. 

You throw yourself down on the roof; your chest thudding against it; breasts crushed and knocking the wind out of you, as you raise the rifle steady on your elbows and fire off rounds quicker than your brain can process your motor functions.

Bodies drop, stunned in their quick deaths. Backs of their heads explode as the bullets ricochet through brainstems that don’t function above the basic instinct to feed and spread their poison.

You hit your targets, some of them are moving too fast to be hit in the head on your first shot. Wounding shoulders or legs which slow them down instead.

Breathe. Focus.

Joel appears in your peripherals; he takes a couple of steps forward as the numbers lessen that are coming at him. His shotgun is high in strong, taught arms; he aims with precision and feels the gun shunt back into his shoulder blade each time he fires.

He reaches into his pocket as he reloads; you take up the slack whilst he does. In the throes of the screaming, the ringing in your ears, you notice how calm Joel is, how he moves with exactitude.

Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire, reload. 

He glances up at you with a steely gaze and a nod, and you shoot the infected body running right for him as he pops out the spent cartridge shells.

It falls with several yards between them; screaming and viscera everywhere, and Joel doesn’t seem fazed, barely flinches.

His face remains vehemently stoic, drawn into that deep hypnotism of abject concentration as he wields the scythe of death again.

You’ve always been tough despite your reluctance at times. Always taken care of yourself. Headstrong, Kelper would say. Arrogant, Joel would say.

But now it’s different; he’s joined in.

Now you take care of one another and it’s not up for negotiation. You settle into it, clearing the way for him. You set them up, he knocks them down. He's got your back and you've got his, like planets in the perfect orbit of one another. He moves, you move. He runs, you run.

He shoots and reloads, you shoot and cover. Teamwork makes the dream work.

Joel steps over the body as he picks the last of them off, the shots echoing into the sky like thunder cracking; the last of the infected are gunned down until the air around you both falls eerily still. 

You push yourself up on your legs that feel like lead weights, breathing steadily despite your heart hammering.

You clock Joel standing still now. His gun still aimed, his body twisting at the waist slowly. He’s listening as he scans.

He’s listening like you are, intently. Listening for the distant moans or shrieks, listening for the beats of more running beasts drawn to the echoes of the shots that crashed around the valley. 

You scan the horizon, the bottom of the hill. The trees to the right. You check them all off carefully. You peer through the periscope and recheck all the routes again to be sure.

It feels like you both stand there for an age. You see movement to your right and aim the rifle, your finger ready on the trigger, but it’s just the brambles swaying in the breeze. You breathe out slowly and relax.

The valley is silent once more. 

Only when you're both sure that there are no more coming at you, do you retreat down the ladder and round to the front of the shack. 

“Ya good?” Joel asks, squinting in the sun as he approaches, and you scream for him as he’s yanked backward; an arm on the body of the mutated corpse beside him reaching up to clasp his calf, and pulling him off balance. 

He rolls down the hill; the infected with him, as you run forward holding the rifle up.

You can’t get a solid aim. Joel’s body is rolling around through the periscope too quickly, and if you shoot, there’s a good chance it’ll be him that receives the bullet. 

“Fuck!” You yell. You tear down the hill after them. 

Joel struggles, grunting as the jaws of the infected body snap at him, too close to his face.

His legs smash against the ground, his back pounding against it relentlessly and knocking the air out of him as he tumbles. His arms ache from the frantic struggle as they come to a stop.

The body scrambles at him wildly, shrieking and drooling with hunger and blood shot eyes. Sickly yellowing fungus grows out the side of its face like lichens, and its breath reeks as Joel breathes the fetid opacity of it in.

He has no weapon, nothing he can defend himself with. He roars out as he pushes upwards with all of his might; his legs kicking out from under him to try and knock the rabid parasite off of him that's coming closer to his face.

Somewhere, through the commotion, he hears his name - he hears you breaking through that heavy cloud of white noise. Then you’re there, aiming and shooting at the head as he holds it out for you by the chin; his fingertips inches from its snapping mouth. 

The blast echoes all around Joel's head and the body of the infected rolls off of him lifelessly.

The ringing floods his good ear, and it takes a while of you yelling his name through the void for him to come back to and hear you through it. 

“... Are you bit?... Joel?! JOEL!” You stare down at him, the rifle still aimed at him, a slight shudder on the end of it.

“No, no…” He pants, relieved. He stares at his shaky fingers then up to you with wild eyes.

“M’okay,” he wheezes, bewildered. “M’okay.”

“Jesus,” you lower the gun.

You reach forward, attempting to pull him up, but instead Joel yanks you towards him.

You topple onto his chest and he kisses you ferociously.

It happens within seconds. A snap. It’s clumsy, it’s frantic.

Your teeth clash and his tongue chokes you. His hands are grappling at either side of your head, your back, your waist. You can’t hear anything except more thunder rolling in your rib cage as your heart thrashes about inside it.

The oxygen is sucked out of your lungs by Joel swallowing it in as you both tear at one another ferally.

Your mind is a whir; a jumble of thoughts trying to untangle themselves. Your body is shaking, unable to catch up with your mind, or with him.

Your own hands shred through his sweat matted hair, fist through his shirt collar. You straddle him as he crushes you against him further; gasping into your throat as his giant hands grip and squeeze your ass into him. 

An emptiness steam rolls through you, no place for coherent thought or wonder to harbour and grow. Instead, you're pulled under, drowning.

Unable to breathe as you let yourself sink into the crashing waves of him. Choking as you gasp, pulling at him desperately. There's no air here, your lungs contract, your throat clenches. You gasp and croak as you sink furhter into the depths, lightheaded.

This is what his kiss feels like. It feels like you might die. 

You pull back, wheezing, when you feel how hard he is against you. How that bulge in his grazed denim feels so fucking good pushed against your seam as you grind on it.

Joel’s hands cup your face; you’re both panting, both wanting. Both trying to stay in some sort of control. Both shaking as the adreanline courses through you.

"Joel," you whine, so full of need as your fingers twist around the fibres of his shirt.

"Goddamn, darlin'," he rasps; those brown molten eyes pulling you in.

His fingers drag down on your bottom lip and looks into your mouth as though it can’t possibly be real.

He pulls you down to him and licks his tongue into your cheeks again, a little softer this time as he regains some control over himself. It slows; the burst, the eruption, now a reduced flow.

Letting the frenzy bloom into an insatiable desire as he really tunes into you, tastes you again. 

You’re soaring as you suck on his lip and he moans out in delight. You want him inside of you so badly. He leans up, deeper into the kiss, and then yelps.

“Aw fuck!” He twists his hand behind him. 

“You okay, what’s wrong?” You pulse to him, your hands on his stacked chest. His heartbeat thrashing underneath them. 

“S’my back. Think I pulled it as I fell.” He winces as he tries to sit up fully, and you shuffle off his lap; the heated lust in you has a glass of ice water thrown in its face as you try to assist him flaccidly.

“Shit,” he grumbles.

You sigh out and then chuckle inwardly, despairing at how the fire between your legs is abruptly doused.

“Ya laughin’ at me?” He narrows at you with a cocked brow.

You shake your head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smirk.

He smirks back, his cheeks flushing, hair a ravaged mess from your desperate raking of it.

“Come on, let’s get you up. Slowly now.” You encourage.

It takes three attempts to stand fully and even that seems like a mountain he will never peak. Joel hisses as he clutches the bottom of his spine that sears and pulls tighter with each movement.

“Was too close for my likin’,” he mutters, as he limps up the hill holding onto your shoulder.

You take his weight, but you can feel he’s not putting it all on you. He waits whilst you bend to pick up his shotgun when you come across it.

“Mm,” you say with a frown blooming, somewhere a fissure inside you erupts.  

“The infected, I mean.” He assures you with a side glance. 

“I know.” You nod forlornly.

Your mind conjures scenarios that you don’t dare venture down. Cutting into the elation of the ghostly graze of Joel's lips still felt on yours. 

Something's happened, something's gone wrong out there. You can feel it as it claws at your belly skin, ripping you open.

“Don’t do that.” You hear Joel cut in. “They’re fine.”

You look at him as he hobbles beside you and a restrained smile is offered to him. He always could read you so well. 

"You don't know that." You mumble.

"I know Tommy... n' ya know Kelper. They're fine." He reassures.

You nod at him, even though the knot tightens in your gut.

Inside the shack Joel wobbles onto the cot and grimaces as he thuds down on it.

It's only then you realise his face is scratched up a little from the brambles, and the back of his hands too. Tiny red criss-crosses that graze.

“Is there a first aid kit in any of these tins?” You ask as you leave him to rummage in them. 

“Back one,” he grunts.

You reach for it and bring it over, pulling out expired antiseptic wipes and tearing the packets open. He tries to avoid it, but you pull his mitts forward anyway and swipe over them gently with the wipe. 

Joel bites down on his cheeks as he feels a little sting in the grazes, fragrant with an archaic artificial scent, but the pain in his back mutes it out.

You go for his face, but he gently bats your hand away. “M’fine, don’t fuss,” he gruffs softly and you back off.

He swings his legs up onto the cot and lays flat on his back. 

“Is there some painkiller in here?” You ask, rifling around, but find none. 

“Doubtful,” he mutters. 

“Why, did you trade it all for sourdough bread?” You smirk and you see Joel chuckle silently with his arm slung over his eyes.

“Pumpernickel.” He grins. 

You can’t help but laugh and so does he.

A heavy wheeze that rolls up from the deep pits of his chest and out the back of his throat. He laughs too hard and then winces again, and you both soften until the silly guffaws between you cease to longing smiles. 

"You're such a shit," you smirk. 

"Y'used to love me for it." He says, and then the smiles dissipate and the silence feels heavy again between you. 

You stand to return the tin to the shelf, you hear him shift on the cot.

“C’mere, lay with me.” Joel says suddenly. 

You turn and he’s reaching out his hand.

“I should keep watch.” You say, hating yourself immediately for saying it. Wondering why you're even saying it, it’s stupid. Futile.

You want nothing more than to be in his arms once again. To feel his weight crushing on yours, to taste his lips again.

To feel how hard he still gets for you after all this time.

“Could, or ya could just come n’ lay with me here for a bit.” He coaxes.

His eyes are blazing, marred with something other than ill-intention or pain. You decide it must be hunger because you know that look swimming inside of his brown irises - you never forgot it. 

You sigh, with a defeated smile and kick your boots off. You climb over him carefully, as he holds his arm out and you nestle down inside of it; your head cushioned on his shoulder.

His scruff scratches softly against your forehead and you feel his fingers gripping around the top of your shoulder, pulling you in closer to him. 

Joel smells wild, like the outside; wet leaves and soil. The faint aroma of sweat procrastinates around his shirt collar that flaps open at the neck.

You can smell the sun in the layers of his skin. A redolence of spice, possibly bergamot, buried deep in his pores somewhere.

The scent of nostalgia rears its head and leaves flutters in your chest and groin alike. He smells like home, or what home used to smell like all those years ago when you still had one.

He shuffles, adjusting to the invasion of your body against his and grunts.

“Is this okay?” You ask, you don’t want to cause him any more physical pain; the cot is only barely big enough for one, let alone the two of you squashed on it.

You feel the wall hard and uncomfortably flat against your back and buttocks.

“S’perfect.” Joel whispers. 

You feel him plant a long, unwavering kiss into your hairline and you think that this is what it must feel like to dive face first into the sun.

You lay on him, listening to his heartbeat and thinking of all the things that are on the tip of your tongue. But cowardice renders you mute. 

"S'been a long time." He starts quietly, and you know instinctively what he means.

The kiss that had exploded outside between the both of you infecting poisonous fear or doubt under his skin. And you can already feel your heart start to shrink. 

"I know. Me too." Your tone is flat. Your hand on his chest is pulling back lightly.

He stops it, firmly placing his over yours and warming it instantly. 

"I want to. Ya don't know how much I want to right now." He reassures. "Fuckin' back," he then grumbles on a distorted sigh. 

"Really?" 

"Darlin'." 

You smile and he can hear it click around your teeth. "I remember it was always…"

You search for the word knowing nothing you can say will do it justice. Joel had been a highly attentive lover equipped with an unrelenting stamina in his youth. 

Your mind casts back to a hazy, younger version of him being between your legs for what seemed like hours; drawing and pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your soaking core and into his waiting, hot mouth.

He’d take his sweet time in devouring you. It felt like the sex between you was the driving force of your relationship sometimes - you couldn’t get enough of one another. 

"It was." He agrees with a small smile crooking on the corner of his mouth.

And then you sigh wearily. The pink swirling thoughts crushed by a brutish reality that bulldozes over the possibilities.

He's right, it has been a long time.

It's been so long since you revealed your naked self to another person, vulnerable and bare. Your body isn’t what it once was. Where it was once supple and full, it’s now stretched and sagging in places.

And that panic floods you, freezes your body still and he feels you tense up under his grip.

“Stop it.” He murmurs into your hair and you smile at how he can do that still. How he can wrangle that angst out of you magically with just a few reassuring and gentle commands. 

"What if… after all this time we’re just fooling ourselves, Joel? The world is a very different place now. Is it even possible to find some semblance of happiness and cling onto it? Maybe it’s just a pipedream. A nice one, but a pipedream nonetheless.”

You’re unsure why you’re saying this, but it rolls off your tongue nonetheless, sticks to the back of your teeth like cloying fudge.

His eyes cloud over, and the tension pulls his face into that frown you’ve come to know over the last few days. Without it, he just simply isn’t Joel.

Your name is a gruff whisper on his lips as he shifts, grunting in pain, to face you, or make you face him. Subtle movements that now have your noses aligned.

“What ya scared of?” And it’s a question that carries so much weight. 

“Everything,” you barely whisper.

He pulls it out of you with those warm chocolatey eyes. “Losing you again.” You confirm after a few beats. "I was an idiot to ever let you go. I'm so sorry. I never got to tell you that."

"I know." He says. "M'sorry I couldn't make ya stay."

"No, it was all me-"

"No, darlin'. We were young. Wasn't the right time." He soothes.

"It was the best time though, wasn't it?"

He nods. “M’right here.” Joel squeezes your hand tight against his chest. You can feel the thrum of his heartbeat against your knuckles. “I’ve always been here.”

His expression flinches, melting away into something softer in the deep lines around his eyes. 

“Can we do this?” You query into his neck, seeking refuge there for a moment, faltering under his gaze. “Us again?”

“Do ya want to?” He asks back as you inhale against his skin. 

“Do you?”

“S’not what I asked ya.” He snuffles. “Tell me what ya want.”

You can feel the tears prickling in your eyes as he speaks into your hair. He hears you sniff and he reacts by holding you tighter, crushing you to him almost. A mouth full of flannel plaid shirt, as it drags against your eyelids wiping them dry.

You want to tell him; you want to rip it out of your chest and hand it to him in a sloppy puddle. You don’t want to hesitate, to shrink back into yourself. You don’t want to keep enduring and surviving because without him it’s all for nothing anyway.

You need to tell him that it’s him, it's always been him. That he's the greatest love of your life, the deepest hole in your heart.

But the words won’t come. They’re right there on the back of your tongue. You’ve seen so much horror, lived through it, but right now, you’re the most terrified you’ve ever been in your life. 

And so is he.

In a voice that is both low and so familiar in shackled want, he says “I don’t wanna lose ya again either, darlin’.”

He’d rip the world apart with his bare hands if he lost you again now. And strangely, that thought doesn’t scare him like it used to. 

It catches in the back of your throat, his omission. His softly spoken vow, and it draws your face back up to his to witness the sincerity as it warms your veins. 

You brush your thumb over the line of his jaw, feeling the soft greying scruff there that’s aged with him.

And he's never looked more fucking beautiful as you finally brave yourself to peep at him again. To confront everything you've wanted. Everything you've fought through to get here.

To get back into his arms.

“Never again, Joel.” You agree. “I’m not losing you ever again.”

His hand is felt on your lower back as he engulfs you. 

“Ya damn right ya ain’t.” Joel presses his lips to yours, tilting your chin up to him.

And you breathe him in, right down into the centre of your chest.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged & who re-blogged my teaser.

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[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter three

Summary: Tony finds out.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: Civil War & Endgame? Grief. Mentions of Murder, Death and Sex.

Word Count: I haven’t edited it just yet so not sure. I’ll update once I have.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Chapter Three Remaster

A/N: I wrote this chapter before even finishing Chapter Two. It broke me. Also, this was meant to be chapter four but I felt bad after not posting for a while and just letting this sit here so here you go.

Tags: @alastorsdarlingdoe | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love | @esposadomd

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

One Year.

Surrounded by Goats.

“How did Tony take it? You know, us being, well, us?” He questioned as he looked out to the Wakandian water, your head resting on his lap while you read. Sighing, you put your book to the side and sat up on your knees.

“He doesn’t know.” You played with a loose thread on his sling as you whispered the confession to him.

“What? Wait, you haven’t told him?” Bucky cupped your face which his hand, moving you to look at him. “Where does he think you are?” You move your hands around, gesturing towards Wakanda. “Why does he think you’re here?”

“I told him I’ve been coming here to meet up with Shuri,” You smiled remembering how grateful you were to T’Challa for opening Wakanda to the world, not only helping provide resources to other countries but also for giving you an excuse to tell your dad. “We’ve been working on a tech thing,” you move your hand over to Bucky’s armless shoulder. “Which, isn’t a lie.”

“You just left out the part that you’re sleeping in a hut, surrounded by goats, with an armless 100-year-old man?” Laughing, he shook his head at you while you just nodded at him.

It Still Wants Him.

“I lost a lot of loved ones,” you sighed as you looked around the small circle of group members attending today. “I lost a lot of friends, co workers, my brothers, I thought I had lost my dad at first and I also lost the love of my life.” You hadn’t realised your dad standing in the shadows of the entrance. His head was down as he listened to his child heartbroken over loss. The one life experience he couldn’t protect you from or heal. He wanted to see how your idea was working out, he wanted to see how you were helping people while you yourself have not yet been helped.

He was shocked to hear you say “love of your life.” He racked his brain on who you could be talking about, as far as he was aware, you didn’t care about romantic relationships. The others in group knew who you were, knew you lost friends, family, co workers and your brothers. Yet, they too were just as confused as your dad had been to learn this information. They had never seen you in any tabloids in regard to romance. Surprisingly considering who raised you.

They were asking all the same questions your dad was thinking. “What was their name?” “When did you know they had disappeared?”

“His name was James,” No, your dad thought, it can’t be. “Everyone knew him as Bucky, but, he liked it when I called him James.” He stared at you through the shadows, debating if he should storm in and demand to know the truth. He didn’t need to, you carried on speaking. Freely, opening about it all, all he could do was listen. “And, I watched him disappear after fighting Thanos.”

“I have never met anyone like him in my life. So calm and patient. It felt like a connection the second our eyes met for the first time. He was funny, charming and just all-around a nice guy. He had a lot of trauma but he worked hard to grow from it. He meant more to me than anyone could imagine.” You sighed, rubbing your left arm subconsciously. “There was a lot of tough times at the beginning, especially when you consider how we met and the complexity of us just knowing each other. But, I couldn’t imagine anyone else filling the space in my life like he did. I wished for him to be the man I grew old with, built a home with, possibly had children with.” You wiped a tear that started falling with your shelve. This was when you noticed your dad, you made direct eye contact with him and you had never felt so small under his gaze. Disappointment. That’s what you were. “Anyway,” you choked as you carried on, not dropping his gaze. “I knew us being together would have hurt so many people. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But, the heart wants what it wants and my heart, wanted him.” This was when you dropped his gaze and looked around at the fellow group members. “It still wants him.”

~

After the last member had left the sports hall of Midtown, you followed them into the schools parking lot. You lifted your head to notice your dad leaning against your car with his hood up. With a deep breath, you walked towards him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” You spat before he could open his mouth, you tried to open your car door but he slammed his hand against it. “Dad, please, I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re sleeping with a murderer.” It was as if he hissed at you, anger spat like venom as he looked down at you.

“I’M A MURDERER.” “And in case you forgot what happened a year ago, I’m not sleeping with him anymore.”

“Y/N he killed-“

“I understand you’re still hurting, Dad. I would be too if it was you and Pepper.” He saw the pain you still carried from only ever hearing stories about them but never getting to meet them yourself in your eyes, there was also the love you had for a man you grew to know as himself and not a killer. “But, it wasn’t him. Surely, with that genius mind you’d be able to comprehend that.” His head dropped with a sigh. “He loved me, he was kind to me, he made me happy. Isn’t that enough for you as my dad? Not as an avenger or a son? Just, my dad?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Looking back up, reaching his hand out to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “You to be happy.”

“I miss him, dad, I miss him so much.”

Pulling you into his arms placing a hand on your head, allowing you to sob into his chest.

“I know, Kid, I know.”

[quibbs126]

I mentioned before my confusion on the whole “Dark Cacao Chocolate” bit on Dark Choco’s new outfit, and now I’ve just come to the conclusion that it’s his full name

I mentioned in the tags that I thought it’d be funny to have a scene where Dark Cacao calls out to Dark Choco and calls him by his full name, and Dark Choco knows he’s messed up because of it. Like, you know when you’re in trouble when your parents call you by your full name? Basically that. So I decided to draw that here because I thought it was funny

To be honest, not sure I like how Dark Cacao turned out. I kind of half assed him, and I feel like redoing him. I’ll update the drawing if I do

But yeah, take this joke, hope you enjoy

Edit: I completely redrew Dark Cacao, much more satisfied with this.

It has also come to my attention that unfortunately, this was actually just a bad translation of the new outfit, and it’s just supposed to be Dark Choco Cookie

Here’s the one I originally found

And they’ve updated the costume descriptions to be more accurate now, and here’s how Dark Choco’s now reads, with no mention of the Dark Cacao Chocolate

Ah well, it was fun while it lasted. But hey, maybe we can keep it as a headcanon

[kanmom51]

13 June 2023 - BTS 10 year anniversary

I thought I'd wait a little for the day to pass and put together all their messages to us. So we got most of them, and of course, still waiting on our Jungkookie, whom I know will not forget army, that he loves so so much, and has something in stall for us as well.

But, because he's taking his time, I guess I'll post now, and when he comes to us I'll add his message as well.

The members messages to us:

Jimin

IG

Posted 13.6.2023 at 12:10 am KST

13-13-13

Yes, I know that JM added #JK because he couldn't tag him, but Tae still got JK's name in without hashtagging him right there by his side, in his rightful place indeed (by JM's side guys, you get my drift).

j.m #jk

#bts

#army

That is the order of things as they should be.

Weverse:

Translated @btsinthemoment

JM Samsung:

RM:

IG:

Weverse:

Translated @btsinthemoment

Cute how JM and RM commented on each other's IG posts.

Tae IG story:

So, Tae posted several clips and photos.

We have the guys together, we have some JM delight, we have some Jikookery too.

First 4 clips translated:

JM starting to sing Santa Clause is coming to town and JK starting to dance to it.

Next 4 clips translated:

Here we got us some Jiminie and Jikookie fun:

jimin jumping, thumbs up y'all.

Tae calling JK to pay attention to JM's antics and JK's laughter.

The fact that I've seen JM solo accounts and Vmin accounts cut out Tae calling JK to look at JM says it all, lol.

Next 3 clips tranlsated:

Another 4 clips translated:

Man was busy. He did put quite an effort, gotta give him that.

Last clip translated:

And this too:

See how you can add JK without having to place him hashtagged right by your own name?

Choices my friends. It's all about choices.

This moment:

cr./@everJJKPJM

This day:

Jikook all matchy matchy at the Niagara falls?

Suga:

Jin:

Weverse:

Translated by @btsinthemoment

IG:

Jhope:

Weverse membership message to fans:

Seoul in Purple:

Take two live performance:

Will update of course...

[mxtxfanatic]

Book of the Week: Transmigrating Into The Heartthrob's Cannon Fodder Childhood Friend

Author: This Concubine Is In Shanyang (妾在山阳)

Genre: transmigration, high school setting, danmei

Rating: T (despite Xie Sui’s best attempts 😔)

My Synopsis: If you’ve ever wondered how someone can play both bully and victim, look no further than Song Yu, our transmigrating main character who’s first instinct when faced with conflict is ✨violence✨ while his second is calling the cops, as he fights against his system to befriend and protect the reborn blackbelly protagonist-turned-love interest, Xie Sui, from a slew of dickwad suitors. Watch as Song Yu threatens to take on the whole damn world if he has to in order to keep Xie Sui single while Xie Sui just wonders whether he’ll even get a turn to enact his revenge on his foes without interception, thank you very much.

My Actual Review: The moment Song Yu walked into a room and immediately tried to brain an antagonist with a bottle of alcohol without so much as a “by your leave,” I was hooked. I think this is the first cnovel I’ve read where the MC’s first solution to a problem is just his hands 😭 Song Yu’s name can be found in the dictionary as an example of the word “tyrant.” But don’t worry! He’s only a harbinger of pain towards those who mess with the innocent and his loved ones (plus Xie Sui totally thinks it’s hot that this short king fights his battles for him). And for all of his violence, Song Yu’s goodness and persistence draws in both reader and LI, translating into an especially soft romance to counteract Xie Sui’s tragic romantic history. The drama and comedy tastefully interwoven into the high school setting makes for a lovely and moderately gripping read without becoming too stressful.

While the translation is currently incomplete, I finished it with an mtl and it was fine. However, it is still currently being translated and is almost finished, so if you want to wait for completion, that’s fine too.

Translations: currently incomplete

Dummy Novels: unlocked, last updated Sept. 2023:

Foxaholic: locked (though password available), still currently updating:

https://www.foxaholic.com/novel/transmigrating-into-the-heartthrobs-cannon-fodder-childhood-friend/

[lintwriting]

Update to my Jullian Champenois post. The translation of "pulled up carrot" has been clarified to actually be a transliteration of Scott Lobdell's name, not an idiom.

In addition, "climbing the wall bucket" was actually the poster saying that they no longer like Jason Todd, since Scott Lobdell was the one who created him. "Climbing the wall" is a Chinese fandom term for no longer liking something, and "bucket" was actually the Chinese translation of Jason Todd.

Thank you @geigenklang1 for clarifying!

In addition, I've been reached out to by the original Weibo poster to clarify these points, as well as two additional ones.

The first is that my translation of "sakura girl" was inaccurate/more deprecating than the actual term. Rather than meaning stupid/delicate, Sakura girl is a reference to Japan's cultural focus on politeness, with the meaning being more like the original Weibo poster is shyer or more cautious to speak out for fear of being impolite.

The second is additional testimony from the original Weibo poster intended to clarify any questions about cultural misunderstandings.

This additional testimony highlights the fact that Jullian Champenois is well-versed in Chinese/Eastern culture (since I'm pretty sure he has to have lived there to be able to use Chinese social media since they're chinese phone number locked/location locked), and therefore he knows how inappropriate his responses would be seen. He would also be aware of how cultural barriers would make it harder to speak out against him when targeting specifically Chinese girls.

In addition, these DMs were to an art account, not a personal one, so it was him making advances at their place of work, crossing professional boundaries and disrespecting their work in the process.

I, personally, also want to take a moment as a Westerner to say: "i understand the worry abt cultral norms being different#but even in the west#speaking to someone twice and then being like “what porn accounts do you follow?” is weeeeiiiirrrrddd"

(tags via @recycled-stardust)

Here is a link to the updated, full post regarding the situation.

[arcielee]

Dancing in the Dark

Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut/NSFW later on, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s Author's Note: I know the Tom and the nurse trope has been done but NOT BY ME so here we go. This shit will be short and tragic, with a possible follow up if we ever get a season 2 of World on Fire. Enjoy. ♥  Update: This is completed! Artwork by 4yvle1 and they are crazy talented, so follow them. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - ende

Chapter 1

Vera walked with determined steps, her low pumps echoed on the Linoleum of the hospital floors as she walked towards the back offices. Her dark curls were pulled back and half-heartedly held with the few bobby pins she had left, but some had begun to frame her face and the severe expression she wore. 

She was mindful enough to soften her features when she would make her rounds, but in this moment she was focused on her steps as she weaved through the beds that now lined the hallways; the doctor was doing his best to accommodate the survivors of Dunkirk that continued to be brought in by the ambulance load, unwilling to turn anyone away.

In the back of the hospital was the only spare room that did not hold any patients. Inside were several desks, one for each doctor assigned. Sitting at the desk in the back corner sat Dr. O’Connor with a mug in his hand and two newspapers, the L'Action Francaise in his other hand and one from Great Britain opened on his desk, his eyes moving between them. 

Vera walked to the hooks the doctor had placed on the wall adjacent to his desk, allowing her and Henriette to hang their personal items and purses. His attention broke away to watch her, a smile splayed across his boyish features.  “Guten Tag, Vera, I am finishing up this devastating article that Henriette was good enough to translate for me,” he gestured to the newspaper in hand, “and I am enjoying a cup of coffee, which will have to suffice for breakfast today.” 

She found she struggled with his American humor, often unsure how to respond to his words and the smile he wore, despite the grim headlines printed on both papers. Her brow had a slight furrow and she reached for her nursing apron. “It is very busy, Arzt,” was all she managed.

“Doctor,” he placed his hand onto his chest. “Or, since we are friends, you can call me Webster, like everyone else.” 

Vera did consider the young doctor a friend.

They had been introduced by his aunt, a woman named Nancy Campbell, who she was fortunate to become neighbors with when her father relocated them to Berlin, with him pushing to become a more active member of the NDSAP. He, of course, loathed the American woman and found her crude, but Vera was enthralled by her bold ideas and her unabashed drive to search for the truth. Nancy was quick to recognize her disdain for the Nazi party, offering her apartment as a reprieve from her father, where she would help her with her English and share a glass of brandy. 

Nancy had been good to help her purchase a ticket for Brussels, where she found a nursing program and a chance for her freedom. She had even offered to call a favor with her nephew, who had just moved to Paris. “He’s a darling boy, you'll adore him,” she had said. 

Vera was assigned to the independent facility after she graduated and did find that she was fond of Nancy’s nephew, a young man named Webster O'Connor. He was very much the personification of an All-American man, with a boyish grin to his often teasing words and a genuine kindness behind his eyes. He was good to keep her at his side and introduced her to Henriette, who was also kind enough to help Vera with the little bit of French she knew. 

This had come in handy to help her mask her Hannover dialect that she found often alarmed their new patients, since the majority were now soldiers.  

Vera tsked at his request. “I do not understand the work you have invested to get this degree, doctor,” her accent flared with the new word and broke it into two distinct syllables, “and then request to be called Webster.”

“You sound like my mother.” Dr. O’Connor, as always, was never deterred by her directness. “Sehr gut,” he complimented her on the pronunciation of the new word. Very good.

Her smile was brief with her exhale as she finished the knot of her apron strings in the front. She found him to be peculiar, but she also appreciated that he continued his constant coaching of her English during the shifts they shared together. 

The office door opened again and they both looked up to see Henriette peering in, her dark brown eyes bright. Dr. O’Connor sighed and folded his paper to lay on the desk top, pushing his chair back to stand. “I know, I know. I am needed, as always,” he said. 

“You are correct, Webster,” she replied with her French lilt and a smile. “You are very much needed.” She saw Vera grabbing a tin basin and restocking with gauze, ointments, et cetera to prepare for her rounds. “Your boy has finally awakened, Vera,” she said, her smile now sly. 

Vera felt a blush creep across her ivory cheeks and she avoided the look from Dr. O’Connor. “Oh? Is this our comatose Navy man?” His cheeky grin could be heard with his words.

When he had been admitted, the name on his dog tag read Bennett, Thomas and she knew little else other than he served in the Navy, or assumed by the blood soaked uniform he had been wearing when he was brought in. Patient unconscious with a gunshot wound to his left shoulder, possible head trauma, were the words written by the doctor on his chart and Vera happened to be on staff when he began treatment. She continued to follow up with him, keeping the Navy man in her daily rotations. 

It had been late one night when she finished her walkthrough, before her shift ended, that she stopped to check on him. He was bare from his waist up, his arm and abdomen wrapped in gauze with a dark purple bruising that spread across his chest and shoulder. She leaned forward to check that the blood had staunch and paused, her eyes looking over his sharp jawline and the curl of his lips. Without a thought in her head, her hand reached to brush away his golden locks when she heard a giggle behind her. 

Her hand froze and in one motion, she rightened her posture and spun on her heel to find Dr. O’Connor, the grinning fool, and Henriette, who at least had the decency to hide her smile behind her hand. 

“He is very handsome, no?” Her voice was soft as she raised a brow. 

Vera made an attempt to flee the hospital and they followed her towards the office, begging her not to leave but to stay and share a stout. “We are friends, are we not?” Henriette hung onto her arm, her brown eyes pleading. 

“C’mon, Vera, we are only teasing you,” Dr. O’Connor had jumped in. “It’s just… we’ve had quite a few men come through our doors and it was just surprising that someone finally… piqued your interest, is all.”

Vera was flustered. “I did not become a nurse as some ploy to get my M-R-S,” her tone was sharp, with a flourish on each letter. “I am doing what is right, what is my duty.” 

“Of course, of course,” he soothed, his hand touched her elbow and he began to walk towards the door; Henriette grabbed her own purse and followed. “No one is doubting your intentions. It’s just nice to see, ya know, you have a little crush.” He wore that same damned cheeky smile. “It makes you human.” 

Her eyes had narrowed onto him, but she still agreed to go with them and have a drink. They talked into the night, sharing their different pathways that brought them to the hospital, their liquored tongues confiding in one another. It gave her a true sense of friendship, an unspoken bond that would follow them within the hospital walls, and she found she did not mind it and even enjoyed their company. 

“He is quite the handful, Vera,” Henriette continued to tease her.

That was until this moment. 

“I guess, I will begin my rounds with him,” she struggled to keep her tone flippant and ignored their exchange of amused expressions with each other. She lifted her supplies to rest on her hip and followed them from the office, towards the growing commotion. 

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!”

She heard a man yell and saw ahead that Jacques tried to hold Bennett, Thomas to the bed. Vera was quick to push past them, her hands reaching to rest on his legs. Her touch halted him for a moment and she saw his face was flushed, his eyes focused on Vera and her cheeks burned at the intensity of his blue eyes. “Let me go and I’ll take my chances!” His voice pleaded.  

Jacques was careful to press on his abdomen, avoiding his injuries and keeping him from leaving his assigned bed. “Hey, listen!” He tried to reason with him. “If you leave now, you will die!”

His attention returned to Jacques and he cocked his head, his face burned with his anger and it amplified the blue of his wide eyes. “Oh, so I just stay here and surrender? Like you lot?” He gave a sharp scoff as his eyes looked over the staff by his bedside. “Paris has fallen–she just told me!” 

Vera kept her grip on his legs, throwing her eyes back to the doctor and Henriette; her eyes widened and Dr. O’Connor kept his gaze on him, his expression solemn as he listened. 

“And not a shot fired!” He cried out and then his eyes narrowed as he emphasized his following words. “How is a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

Her own hold loosened as she looked to Jacques and the sudden change in his mien. “Pardon?” His dark eyes burned in response to the words and his brow furrowed, pressing forward.   

“Jacq!” Henriette was quick to grab his arm, pulling him from the bed.  “Laisse-le.” Leave him.

He allowed himself to be pulled away, throwing a disgusted look back at the Navy man, who seemingly relaxed once the personified restraint was gone. His piercing eyes returned to Vera and she peered at his chest, noticing the bandages had shifted in the altercation and fresh blood began to seep through. “You have opened your wound,” but as soon as the words left her lips, she saw his gaze focus on her mouth. 

“Christ.” His expression was incredulous. “It seems the krauts are already here with their nursebands.” 

Her eyes narrowed in return. “Our staff has been devoted to helping you,” she snapped, her tone low. 

“You think you’ve helped me?” He was propped onto his elbows, his agitation still apparent on his flushed face. “Thanks to your help, I’m in a city crawling with Nazis,” his eyes fixated on her with the word. There was a moment she thought he might spit, but instead he fell back to the bed, wincing, and rolled onto his good shoulder away from them. “Now piss off and let me die in peace.” 

Vera was quick to stand, her cheeks flushed as she grabbed her basin and walked from the bed. Her strides brought her to the end of the hallway and she could hear the heavy steps of the doctor behind her. “Vera, please!” She turned and saw the same genuine concern imprinted on his face. “He was just in shock and he didn’t-” 

Vera grabbed his arm, pulling him aside to avoid any spectating eyes. “It is okay, Webster.” She struggled with his nickname and he gave a small smile. “I should have expected this, it is the world we live in right now.” She exhaled, shifting the tin to her other hip. “It was just a silly crush and it will not affect my work. I will do my rounds and will see him last, when his temper has cooled.” 

Dr. O’Connor looked at her for a moment and she could see him repressing an urge to hug her, but he, gratefully, kept his arms to his side and offered her a tight smile. She returned it with a nod and then moved back into the hallway, towards the first bed and grabbed the chart from the end. 

As the war grew closer, their patient intake had changed and she was accustomed to the hesitation from the soldiers they now treated. Vera minimized her speech, only using the bit of French from grade school and Henriette’s coaching to reply to them, attempting to camouflage her German accent as best she could. 

After the response of the Navy man, she would be more diligent. 

The day continued and rolled towards dusk, the orange rays of the setting sun peered through the large windows. She checked through her patients, some requiring more attention than others, before she finally made her way back to Bennett, Thomas. 

He was still on his side, having sulked himself to sleep with his arms crossed in front and his lips parted with his steady breathing. She watched him for a moment, a small smile to her lips, and she reached to touch his elbow, hoping it would be the least intrusive wake up for him. 

He opened his eyes and groaned when he rolled onto his back, turning to see her. “Christ, kraut,” he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Do you not understand ‘piss off’?”

The smile evaporated and her expression returned to severe, her eyes narrowing onto him again. “I must change your bandage,” she struggled to keep her tone controlled. “Your tantrum earlier possibly ruptured your injury.” 

“Gimme a moment, I know how you can understand,” his lips had a cruel curve as he brought himself to his elbows to face her. “Verpiss dich?”

Vera refused to be bullied; her expression steeled and she brought two fingers to press into his bloodied bandaged. He winced and fell back against the thin mattress. “You are injured,” she pronounced each word with an added emphasis. “You will be quiet and allow me to change this damn bandage or I can allow your injury to put you in a septic shock, letting your organs fail you one-by-one.” She leaned back, her hands moving to smooth her apron and left a smear of blood. “Your choice, Bennett.”

He watched her and his expression changed, with an almost look of amusement that played across his face despite how his own eyes were still narrowed onto her. Perhaps he had not expected her to snap back at him, she did not know, but he did not say another word as he pushed himself to sit upright in the bed. 

Vera sighed, sitting on the bed’s edge, and began to remove his soiled bandages; her touch was gentle and her hands cool as she cleaned and checked the lesion before reaching for fresh gauze. He remained quiet and his eyes were watchful, lifting his arm with a grimace as she wrapped around his abdomen.  

Her eyes remained focused on the task at hand, refusing to allow them to wander elsewhere on the Navy man and prayed for the color to leave her cheeks. When she finished, she moved to stand and he grasped her elbow to hold her back. She turned to look at him and saw his cerulean blue eyes stare back. “Danke,” he said with a smirk. 

Vera looked at him a moment and pulled away, grabbing her supplies and moving back towards the office. What she did not see was the Navy man who leaned back onto his bed, cocking his head to admire the swish of her skirt as she walked away.

----

Chapter 2

[ladamedusoif]

Books (Professor!Ben x OFC Lydia)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 14

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates!

Pairing: Professor!Ben x OFC!Lydia (part of the Visiting universe)

Word count: 848

Warnings: Language, angst, pining

Rating: Teen

Summary: What’s the harm of imagining an alternative future, when you’re lonely this Christmas?

This Fic-Mas story can be read as an add-on/deleted scene to Chapter 8 of Visiting, 'Sister Winter'.

Iceland has this thing called Jolabokaflod - literally, “book flood”. It can mean the rush of new books published for Christmas gifts, or it can mean the tradition associated with them. 

Put simply, the idea is that on Christmas Eve, you exchange books with your nearest and dearest. And then everyone snuggles up in bed, armed with hot chocolate and candy, and reads their new book. 

It sounds like heaven. 

The book flood tradition pops into your mind as you place a neatly-wrapped selection of books under the tree at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. And with it, a pang, and another thought. 

Ben would love that. 

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, trying to fend off the thoughts of him. “I think it’s time for bed.”

You creep up the stairs, last one to turn in for the night, and nestle in with your hot water bottle. 

You wish he was keeping you warm, girl. 

“Fuck.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy. And you begin to imagine, to let yourself daydream (if one can call it that) about an alternative reality, an alternative future, if only for the night. 

It is Christmas, after all. It’s canonically a time for what might have beens, for counter-factuals. What was A Christmas Carol, if not that? And - even more obviously - what of It’s A Wonderful Life?

Alright, you think, maybe it’s not quite the same. Clarence the Angel had to show George Bailey how much better he made the world, and how wonderful his life actually was. And Dickens showed Scrooge terrible things, to help him change - a far cry from the cosy scene you were about to conjure up. 

Still, the point stands. What if things were different? What if things could be different? 

You close your eyes and let your mind wander, telling yourself it’s just idle fantasy. It’s not hurting anyone. Right?

So indulge. Find comfort in thinking about how it might be, could have been. Imagine the comfort of books, of warmth, of him.

You had thought for a long time about the book for Ben. Eventually, you settled on a personal favourite, one that reflected your personality, your interests, yourself: The Belly of Paris, by Émile Zola. You knew he hadn’t read it - “just Thérèse Raquin and Germinal”, he’d told you as you raved about Zola’s books - and you wanted to see what he thought. 

The edition is a recent translation, a handsome paperback, and you wrap it up in brown paper and add a length of dark red ribbon, placing it under the tree to await Christmas Eve. 

The next day, it’s joined by a matching book-shaped gift: this time wrapped in dark green paper, your name written in his distinctive handwriting on an old-fashioned gift tag. 

Christmas Eve is idyllic: mulled wine, old movies, talking and preparing food for the next day’s meal as the snow falls softly outside. By about 8 that evening, you’re settled cosily on the couch and your eyes land on the little packages. 

“Time for book flood, I think.”

Ben smiles as you reach under the tree and retrieve the gifts. “You want to open them here?”

“I’d rather do it in bed, baby. C’mon, grab some hot chocolate.” 

He follows you upstairs to bed, making you giggle as he purrs in your ear: “Gonna make you read soooooo much, Lyd. We’re gonna read so hard.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him as you join in the suggestive jokes, pulling him close to you. “Well, you know I can keep reading for hours, Benjamin.”

You can. And you do. 

Ben’s book gift to you is a gorgeous vintage copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, which you clutch to your chest in delight. He opens his parcel carefully, a wide smile spreading across his face as he recognises the title. 

“Émile. Of course.”

And now it’s just the two of you, side by side in bed, the only sounds the occasional crackle from the tall candles you’d lit in the bedroom, one or both of you sipping your hot cocoa, and the turning of the pages. 

Without lifting his eyes from Zola, Ben’s left hand finds your right, and holds it: safe, secure. Your thumb traces over his tattoo, making him hum quietly with pleasure. 

“Imagine if we hadn’t figured things out”, you muse, eyes still fixed on Garcia Marquez. 

Ben turns and looks at you, eyes warm and expression most serious. “Not figuring things out was never an option.”

When you wake in the grey light of Christmas morning, it takes a moment for you to remember.

The pain hits you all over again. The fantasy - simplistic and all as it might have been - had been too convincing, and facing reality feels even harder. 

You can hear your family already waking and pottering about the house, little nieces stampeding out of the spare room they’re sharing with your sister and brother-in-law for the holidays. 

Craving the warmth of a familiar hand on yours, you turn over and cry into the pillow. 

[prettyiwa]

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work.

(previous) Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: POV Miyuki Kazuya, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Soulmates (if you squint), Brief Mention of Grief, Adolescent Teasing, Light Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hints of Jealousy, One (1) Instance of Profanity (guys, it's me.), Concerned Miyukis (Toku makes an appearance), the Author Has Unrealistic Expectations About Seating on Public Transit, Reference to Kazuya's Name Etymology Summary: What are best friends for if not dragging into playing catch or forcing to model for your art? Word Count: 3,100

A/N: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future updates. I cannot promise a timeline/schedule for when they'll be published, but the option's there if you want it.

@tyga-lily, @no1frogfan, @bajiissofine (since you'll be reading the first in a bit)

He forgets how old both of you were, but it was around the time you were learning how to ride a bike. It was you who went first, terrified and unable to find your words. Absolutely petrified. Maybe your nerves carried over but he remembers feeling antsy, too. All he really knows is, you started calming down when he ran alongside the bike—as fast as he could, anyway. He shouted at you and you heard him clearly, despite high emotions and adrenaline.

I’m right beside you.

When it was his turn, you said the same thing.

Age 13 (Almost 14) | August 23

With the exception of you sitting on the benches next to his bag, Kazuya’s alone on the practice grounds. The upperclassmen left a while ago, uninterested in bettering themselves beyond regular practice, and the players in his year left not too long after. Adults still hover at the top of the hill, chatting with one another before they’ll eventually head home, taking the remaining teammates with them, but he’s not counting on them. They aren’t gonna help him keep practicing, so he’s not worried about them. It makes things difficult, but not impossible.

You’re here, so it’s definitely not impossible.

Kazuya approaches you, calling your name, unable to stop his grin from growing. You look up from your sketchbook with a smile of your own, but it drops the moment he tosses the ball into the air. By the time he’s caught it, your smile has turned into a frown and your nose is back in your book.

“C’mon. Just ten more minutes. Play with me for ten minutes.”

“I don’t want to play with you for ten more minutes because it’s never just ten minutes.”

“Okay… what do you want to do, then? Can’t be as fun as playing baseball.” He knows what you’d rather be doing, you art nerd, but he’ll ask anyway.

“I’d rather be drawing.”

“Ha! I knew it, art nerd!”

Your brows scrunch together and he can almost hear you call him baseball geek before his coach calls out to you both, interrupting whatever you were gonna say.

“Hey! Are you kids coming along? It won’t be light out for much longer.”

That catches your attention, making you jump to your feet to address him. Offering a slight bow, you call out, “We’ll be okay to travel alone.” Kazuya’s smirk grows again, knowing you’d only say that if you planned on helping him anyway. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t push himself too hard. Thank you!”

Coach seems satisfied, but Namikawa’s dad isn’t.

“What about your mothers? Won’t they worry?”

Even though it’s supposed to be hot, late summer, it feels cold. Kazuya looks at you and notices the way you freeze up. Coach leans over and Kazuya knows what he’s saying, even without hearing it. Your shared reality for the last six years, but it bothers you a whole lot more than it bothers him.

Your grip around your sketchbook tightens and his smile is gone when he shouts back, “We’re fine. My dad knows where we are. You guys shouldn't wait for us.”

“Kazuya, you’re being kinda rude,” you mutter, turning to face him. He doesn’t like the way your smile’s disappeared.

“I don’t care about that.”

Coach doesn’t either, it looks like, because he bids you both good evening, reminding Kazuya that practice starts later tomorrow.

You return to your spot on the bench and he stands there a bit longer, wondering why people have to make things into something they’re not. What would it have mattered what your guys’ moms think? It doesn’t since they don’t. Glancing your way, he sees that you’re still frowning and he remembers it’s always been a little harder on you, especially since your dad won’t do anything to help, but there’s not a whole lot he can do about that.

Tossing the ball into the air, he catches it, again and again, higher and higher each time.

“Stop moving so much.”

He catches the ball once more, looking over at you, watching him from just atop your sketchbook. Again.

“I can’t stop moving,” he says, tossing the ball up, up, up. “I’m practicing.”

“You don’t even have to practice right now. You did that for three hours already. It’s just you.”

You’re still moping, so he decides to goad you, just a bit. “This’ll go faster if you pick up the ball and help.”

Glaring at him, you scoff. “How could that possibly help?”

“If I get used to your crappy and wild pitches, I’ll be able to catch anything.”

That does it. His smile returns in full when you close your sketchbook and almost slam it down beside you, looking like you want to fight.

“I’m going to end you, baseball geek.”

He can’t contain his laughter, not when your pride prevents you from taking any slight lying down. “Practice with me and then you can sketch all you want.”

“Alright. Fine. Jackass.”

He laughs again as you start to warm up your shoulder, but your scowl only deepens. He knows that once you get going, you’ll actually enjoy playing with him—getting you to start is always the hard part. He doesn’t understand why, especially since it didn’t use to be like this. You used to enjoy playing with him and do it willingly. But things change, he supposes. Like what Akari said yesterday (though he’s pretty sure she only said it to annoy Kazuya). Her comment festers and he tries to remember how you reacted and it’s enough for him to laugh again.

“So vulgar! How do you expect to make other friends or find a boyfriend with a mouth like that?!”

For a couple of minutes you don’t say anything, focusing on warming up while shooting him a withering glare once or twice. You raise your hand to ask for the ball, catching it without flinching or looking away and it makes him excited.

“I make friends fine.” There’s a crawling under his skin when you say that, a light itch that doesn’t really go anywhere. He opens and closes his mitt, hoping you’ll throw your first pitch and he can forget about it. “No one would even want me to be their girlfriend so long as you’re around.”

Or not. You could say that and the itching could get worse and it could feel like something heavy’s twisting his stomach. The dropping in his chest reminds him of those dreams he sometimes has where he’s falling.

He shouldn’t have asked.

You throw your first pitch with more control than you usually exhibit. He doesn’t have a retort or a compliment to offer and he thinks he can hear Akari laughing at him. “So what? You want me to stop hanging around as much?”

You catch the ball he throws your way and he can tell that, at the very least, you aren’t upset at the question about your mom anymore. He sees it in your eyes as you wind up—you don’t even have to say it. He hears you clearly simply by being the person to catch your pitches. Harder than you usually do and with better aim than you usually have. Maybe his comments went too far this time.

Waiting until you have the ball again, you answer before you throw. “No. I’d rather be friends with you than have some boyfriend.”

It’s like you’re spitting the word, like it’s the worst insult he could’ve thrown your way, but he doesn’t care. That twisting stops and the itching does, too. The way the ball nestles into his mitt tells him you’re still mad, but it’s hard to focus on that because his heart stops completely, turning him cold before burning him up. Heat spreads across his face and he feels dumbfounded until you call out to him, expecting the ball.

Throughout the rest of your practice, you don’t say much more, letting your pitches speak for you. That’s fine—your words won’t stop replaying in his ears anyway. All in all, he shouldn’t push you. You’re not an actual pitcher, despite the promise you show and the way the girl’s team would probably love to have you. It’s getting dark but he likes this.

He likes playing like this with you. No matter how much of a fuss you make, you always end up having fun, too. He likes that he can understand you perfectly when you throw the ball his way. It reminds him of when things were a little bit easier. The natural light is running out and you complain that you’re getting hungry, meaning he can’t keep this up much longer.

The distance between the field and the bus stop seems shorter than usual, filled with him trying to get you to admit you had fun, no different from any other time you two do this. He gets nothing but non-answers and he knows you’re still annoyed with him, so it’s no surprise when you pull out your sketchbook the moment you two are seated on the bus.

At first, you don’t mind when he leans on you, looking over your shoulder as you touch up what you had been working on earlier. Most of the pages are filled with him, but he spots his teammates there as well. The bus continues on its route and gradually empties as it always does around this spot at this time of night and you push him away.

“Hey, what’s that for?”

“Shut it. I want to draw you. You said I could.”

He sighs, giving up whatever fight he planned on giving. It’s not the worst thing ever and he kinda likes the attention you give him, especially since it means you won’t be angry with him for as long. As you try to steady the pages, you end up lowering your sketchbook and he gets caught on the fact that you’re using the purple pencil again. You always seem to use it when you draw him, but he can see Namikawa and his coach in orange and red at the bottom of the page, just beneath your hand.

“You always draw me in purple, but you draw Namikawa in orange.”

“Okay?”

You don’t stop sketching, only looking up for reference. He knows that look—like you’re not only seeing him, but seeing through him. Sometimes he hates that look, but he imagines it can’t feel that much different when you sit at his games and practices.

“Why?”

“Why…? Why do I draw you using purple?” Your brows scrunch together and your tongue peeks out as you try to get the lines just right.

“Yeah. Why not orange or red?”

“Because you’re not.”

“I’m not what?”

“You’re not orange or red. You’re purple.” Spoken like the truth. Something known, like the depth of the Mariana Trench being over 11,000 meters or that the sun will always set and that he’ll seek out baseball when it rises again or that you’ll call his name and he’ll come running. Kazuya doesn’t quite understand how you’ve made this your truth.

As if you can feel his confusion, you look up, properly. Your face relaxes and you tilt your head back before saying, “You’ve always been purple. Does it really bother you?”

Again, you say it like it’s a fact.

But he considers your question and comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t bother him. Not really. “I guess not.”

Nodding before returning to the page, you take a moment before speaking again. “Kazuya, I don’t remember asking since we were kids.”

“Asking what?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh.”

What a silly question, but you’re an artist, so it makes sense that you’d ask him something like that. While he thinks, wondering whether he even has a favorite color, you grab his chin and move back into position.

“Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“What about orange?”

It���s a nice color. Reminds him of summer and how hot it gets and how much fun he has. It reminds him of you a little bit. “I like it. It’s warm.”

“It is. It’s connected to sunshine and happiness.”

“No kidding? What about red?” He likes that, too, but it’s everywhere. Not that it’s a bad thing, but there has to be a reason for that.

You hum, tilting your head to the side before answering. “Protection and strength, I think.”

“What about purple?”

Why do you think he’s always been purple?

“Well… it was hard to get, for dye and paint and stuff, so only royalty and people at the top had access to it—”

He laughs and you pull him into position again. “What, so you think I’m some kind of royal?”

It’s your turn to laugh, and it’s the infectious kind that drags him in, too. Your pencil pauses for a moment and you look at him. “No, you idiot. Maybe it’s because of your name or because you’re jersey number two on the field. I don’t know. I mean, I can’t think of anyone who’s all that better at catching than you.”

There’s a catcher that comes to mind, but he can’t be bothered to think of him when you give a compliment like that. Even if you tell him you don’t know a thing about baseball (which is an absolute lie) and you tell him that your opinion on the sport shouldn’t matter, it does. You continue your thought and he’s unable to put away his cheeky smile.

“I read somewhere that purple sometimes means strength and drive. I don’t know. That all seems like you.”

“I suppose so.” You return his smile before gently closing your sketchbook, denying him the opportunity to see how much progress you’ve made. The bus comes to a stop and he follows you off it, happy when you take a moment to wait for him instead of just going ahead. “So… what’s your favorite color?”

You glance in his direction before taking a step in the direction of home. “Purple.”

“Oh, so you draw me purple because it’s your favorite color and I’m your favorite person.”

“No!” He snickers at your reaction, at the playful way you push his shoulder, glad to have pushed the right button at least once today. “Purple’s my favorite color because I’m always drawing you and you’ve always been purple.”

His words die on his tongue and he can’t tell why. He wants to respond (maybe tease you some more) but he can’t find any words. A smirk forms on your lips, happy that he’s being quiet. The two of you walk in silence for a couple minutes and it’s not until you’re a block away from home do you turn to him with that smile that means you’re up to no good.

“Y’know… Tanaka-sensei was complaining that sometimes purple can be really difficult to print. Maybe that’s why you’re purple. You’re just difficult.”

“Seriously?”

Your laughter echoes down the street before you skip in front of him, stopping in front of his house as he catches up.

“Hey, don’t you wanna stay and eat? I don’t think your dad’ll have anything at home.”

“Nah, that’s why I have to get home. I might need to make something.” You say that, but you glance toward the lights that are still on in the factory.

“You’re going to end up poisoning you both. Just stay and eat with us. It won’t take too long.”

“I shouldn’t.” Even though it looks like you want to.

He can try once more—

“How else are you supposed to finish your drawing?”

A smile appears on your face, nice and wide and one he only sees when you’re really happy with him. “Seriously? You’d sit still for me?”

“Yeah!” If it gets you some proper food tonight, yeah.

You bite your bottom lip, chewing on it while you think. “Could you do that tomorrow? I gotta make sure he’s good.”

That feeling in his chest gets smaller and his smile feels heavier, but he still makes it come. “Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

The light inside the factory turns off and you both turn as the metal doors shut, bringing Dad and Kusaga outside. After locking the doors, Dad catches sight of you both, walking forward after wishing Kusaga a good night.

“You two are out late. Did Kazuya keep you at practice again?”

“Nope! He was helping me with my art today.”

Dad gives him a look that tells him he knows better, but he simply asks you, “Can I take a look?”

Flipping through the pages, you land on the ones of today, bringing it to him. “This is what I was able to do while he was practicing, but this is what he helped me with after.”

Dad takes a moment to look through your sketches, the same ones Kazuya peeked at earlier. You never let him see how far you got with the sketch from the bus and it bothers him a little that Dad gets to see it first. But you’re trying to save him from another lecture about keeping you out too late, so he’ll leave it alone.

“You’ve improved quite a bit.”

“Thank you! I’ve been working at it as hard as Kazuya’s been working on baseball, I think. I can’t let him be the only one with talent here.” Dad laughs but that doesn’t stop your smile from starting to slip away. “I should start heading home. Dad’s waiting for me.”

His dad looks at him briefly before turning to you. Part of him hopes he’ll invite you to stay for dinner because you suck at telling parents no, but a larger part of him knows that Dad wouldn’t do that.

“You good to travel alone? Kazuya and I could walk you.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for offering!”

“Alright. Tell your dad I said hi.”

You wave to them both as you continue heading down the street, turning away without much of a smile. Dad turns to him again but, before he can say anything, Kazuya speaks up.

“Can I walk her home anyway?” He thinks about it for a moment, glancing the way you’re going, and Kazuya adds, “It’s just around the corner.”

That seems to do the trick and Dad extends his hand, gesturing to Kazuya’s bag. “That’ll be fine. I’ll get started on dinner.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Kazuya doesn’t give him any time to respond, hurrying after you like you had called. Even if you didn’t call his name, he’s sure he heard it anyway.

Promises We Exchanged Fic Page | Daiya no Ace Masterlist | Next

[gyumibear]

⌞BLUE SPRING⌝ — PROFILES: JUICEEZ

SYNOPSIS — In which you, an upcoming idol, are saved from a dangerous encounter by Song Mingi, a jaded, third-year delinquent who falls for you in more ways than one. However, both of your responsibilities constantly tear you apart. Years later, you reunite. Are the sparks still there or was your love only meant for that one spring?

← TO ATZ | MASTERLIST | TO EXTRAS →

PARK SEONGHWA - '98 liner, True to his bio, Seonghwa is the most popular barista at Juiceez, surpassing the founders themselves. He became fast friends with Hongjoong after [NO SPOILERS.] He's a warm presence and makes it a point to remember every regular's name! He is familiar with Y/N as he's a fan of DYN♡STY and she's one of his regulars. He's helped her stay out of the public's eye many a time. Surprisingly, he's also the one who convinced Mingi to get into [SPOILERS.] If he didn't work at Juiceez, he'd possibly also be an idol himself, but he chose university.

JEONG YUNHO - '99 liner, Yunho is the founder of Juiceez. It came to him in a dream, which he quickly told co-founder and close friend Yeosang. He proclaims himself to be an angel, even though he has a rough past. In this rough past, he met Mingi, his self-proclaimed best friend. After Mingi [SPOILERS], Yunho offered him a job and they've been coworkers ever since! Along with Hongjoong, Yunho is the only person who knows about Mingi's past with Y/N.

KANG YEOSANG - '99 liner, Yeosang is the real angel and co-founder of Juiceez. He's in constant competition with Seonghwa for the "favorite barista." When he's not working there though, he's started his own YouTube channel where he makes videos on any topic that crosses his mind. His latest video is on the drama between two streamers who were exposed for fake dating! [ ;) ] He was also in school with Mingi but wasn't aware of that until they met. They ran in different crowds.

*NOT PICTURED* Kim Hongjoong & Song Mingi: Employees at Juiceez.

NOTE — This group comes into play in the second part of the SMAU. Originally, I was going to include Mingi and Hongjoong's updated profiles here, but that'd give away too much plot. No free spoilers for Hongjoong and Mingi!! That means you Nai.

BLUE SPRING TAGLIST: OPEN! send a reply or ask to be added! if bold, you could not be tagged! — @ad0rechuu @run2seob @xynokia @hearttakesworld @scarfac3 @gvnwks

© GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter three (remastered)

Summary: It's been a year since the snap and Tony has only just found out.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: Civil War & Endgame? Grief. Mentions of Murder, Death, and Sex.

Word Count: 2049

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Here is the edited and extended version of Chapter Three. I am still incredibly sorry for the length of time it has taken me to release any more of this story. From now on, I hope to have a new chapter out every Friday.

Tags: @alastorsdarlingdoe | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love | @esposadomd | @motylekrozi

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

One Year.

The second most difficult day of your life. The first anniversary of the snap. Looking up, you read his name over again. ‘James Buchanan Barnes’. You made your way down to Brooklyn late afternoon, you had been to see the ‘Wall of the Vanished’ that has now been built in every city & county to memorialize the Vanished. Earlier that morning, you made your way to Manhattan and Queens to visit both Vision’s and Peter’s names. 

~

The decision of the order had already been made for you before you left the compound. You saw Peter almost every morning before he vanished, whether it be a quick FaceTime before he left for school to ‘double-check’ his homework or get an update for any missions he might be assigned to. He never missed a day. Now, you weren’t going to either. 7:30 AM on the dot, you found his name. Right next to his Aunt May’s. 

“Hey Kid,” Whispering as you looked around to see if anyone noticed you, literally talking to a wall. It wasn’t busy at this time, only a few friends and family members of the vanished were wandering around the names. Not a single one noticed you were there. “Can you believe it’s been a whole year since you went to space?” Smiling, you imagined how excited he would have felt once it hit him that he was actually in space. “Would have been cool if you came back though,” you began tracing over his name, memorizing the engraving. “I shouldn’t have listened. I should have been up there with you. If I had been,” Pausing to take a breath, you start to shake your head.

Stop. You think to yourself. Remembering you can’t change the past, no amount of wishful thinking or what ifs will bring them back. Yet, ever since your dad told you about how close they were to getting the gauntlet off Thanos, you haven’t helped but wonder. Maybe with an extra pair of hands, they would have got it off. 

~

Before you knew it, the public was flooding around the walls. It was almost midday. Still, two counties to go. You did the same when you found ‘The Vision’ engraved into the stone in Manhattan, only this time, his name wasn’t among ‘The Vanished’. His name was registered as a ‘Fallen Hero’. Tracing his name, just like you had with Peter’s, you told him you missed and loved him. Wished he was still here. Regretted wasting time, over a silly government paper instead of standing strong as siblings, while he was here. And, of course, beat yourself up for still being here instead of him.

“You would’ve helped a lot more people than I ever can,” You spoke once again to a literal slab of stone. “I should have stayed in that room with you, I should never have stayed on the field. You needed me and I wasn’t there. Some big sister, huh?”

Stopping yourself again, you reminded yourself of a time when you’d hear his voice in the earpiece of your first-ever suit. Telling you specs, reminding you to speak nicer to yourself when you weren’t getting it first try. Back when he was known as Jarvis and wasn’t entirely Vision.

You stood in silence for the remainder of your time in Manhattan. Nothing you had to say wasn’t something Vis didn’t already know. Just being there, was enough and you hoped that somehow he knew.

~

You couldn’t speak the whole time you stood staring at his name. There was no ‘what ifs’ or tracing his name. Anger, denial. You could feel yourself taking steps back in your grief process. No, if you stayed or if you went. You knew when it came to Bucky, there was no other option. No other way to change the story. If you had changed anything with Peter or Vision, Bucky would still be here. But you didn’t. 

It was starting to get dark and more people were beginning to leave. For the first time that day, you allowed yourself to cry. No scenario you thought of would have allowed you to both fight by his side and allow him to survive. All you had was regret, regret for keeping him a secret. Regret for not visiting Wakanda as much as you should have. Regret not telling him more often how much love you had for him.

Surrounded by Goats.

“How did Tony take it? You know finding out about us being, well, us?” He questioned as he looked out to the Wakandian water, your head resting on his lap while you read. Sighing, you put your book on the picnic blanket and rested on your knees. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair back behind your ear as you looked away from his face and toward where once hung his mechanical arm.

“He doesn’t know.” Playing with a loose thread on his sling as you whispered the confession to him. Desperately trying to look up at his face, fear of his disapproval and hurt for keeping him a secret. 

“What? Wait, you haven’t told him?” Bucky cupped your face with his hand, moving you to look at him. “Where does he think you are?” Realising it was panic in his voice and not hurt or upset, you move your hands around, gesturing towards Wakanda. “Why does he think you’re here?” He then rose to his feet, you rushed to join him.

“I told him I’ve been coming here to meet up with Shuri,” You smiled remembering how grateful you were to T’Challa for opening Wakanda to the world, not only helping provide resources to other countries but also for giving you an excuse to tell your dad. “We’ve been working on a tech thing,” you move your hand over Bucky’s armless shoulder. “Which, isn’t a lie.” His hand found its way to your lower back, pulling you closer to him as you fidgeted once again with the loose thread on his sling. Dropping his head, his forehead rested against yours. Your breathing was now in sync.

“You just left out the part about sleeping in a hut, surrounded by goats, with an armless 100-year-old man?” He whispered the secret so quietly, you were barely able to hear him yourself. Smiling, you nodded, your noses brushing against each other as you did. 

“I left out the part about sleeping in a hut, surrounded by goats, with the man I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with.” Your whisper was just as quiet as his, so quiet it took you both a second to realize what you said. It was the first time, neither of you had said that four-letter word to each other. Once you had a second to think, you opened your mouth to speak. You wanted to take it back, fear crept in of him not saying it back to you or worse. Before you could do one single thing, his lips were pressed against yours. His hand had moved from your lower back to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against it as he tried to pull your mouth closer. 

“I have been alive for 100 years, I have seen every type of love this world has to offer. But Doll, there’s nothing in this universe that could compare to the love I feel for you.” 

It Still Wants Him.

“I lost a lot of loved ones,” you sighed as you looked around the small circle of group members attending today. “I lost a lot of friends, co-workers, and my brothers. I thought I had lost my dad at first, and I also lost the love of my life.” You hadn’t realised your dad was standing in the shadows of the entrance. His head was down as he listened to his child heartbroken over loss. The one life experience he couldn’t protect you from or heal. He wanted to see how your idea was working out, he wanted to see how you were helping people while you have not yet been helped.

He was shocked to hear you say “love of your life.” He racked his brain on who you could be talking about, as far as he was aware, you didn’t care about romantic relationships. The others in the group knew who you were, and knew you lost friends, family, co-workers, and brothers. Yet, they too were just as confused as your dad had been to learn this information. They had never seen you in any tabloids concerning romance. Surprisingly considering who raised you.

They were asking all the same questions your dad was thinking. “What was their name?” “When did you know they had disappeared?”

“His name was James,” No, your dad thought, it can’t be. “Everyone knew him as Bucky, but, he liked it when I called him James.” He stared at you through the shadows, debating if he should storm in and demand to know the truth. He didn’t need to, you carried on speaking. Freely, opening up about it all, all he could do was listen. “And, I watched him disappear after fighting Thanos.”

“I have never met anyone like him in my life. So calm and patient. It felt like a connection the second our eyes met for the first time. He was funny, charming, and just all-around a nice guy. He had a lot of trauma but he worked hard to grow from it. He meant more to me than anyone could imagine.” You sighed, rubbing your left arm subconsciously. “There were many tough times at the beginning, especially when you consider how we met and the complexity of us just knowing each other. But, I couldn’t imagine anyone else filling the space in my life like he did. I wished for him to be the man I grew old with, built a home with, possibly had children with.” You wiped a tear that started falling with your shelve. This was when you noticed your dad, you made direct eye contact with him and you had never felt so small under his gaze. Disappointment. That’s what you were. “Anyway,” you choked as you carried on, not dropping his gaze. “I knew us being together would have hurt so many people. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But, the heart wants what it wants and my heart wanted him.” This was when you dropped his gaze and looked around at the fellow group members. “It still wants him.”

~

After the last member had left the sports hall of Midtown, you followed them into the school's parking lot. You lifted your head to notice your dad leaning against your car with his hood up. With a deep breath, you walked towards him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” You spat before he could open his mouth, you tried to open your car door but he slammed his hand against it. “Dad, please, I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re sleeping with a murderer.” It was as if he hissed at you with anger, spat like venom as he looked down at you.

“I’m a murderer!” Yelling back at him your breathing began to quicken. “And in case you forgot what happened a year ago, I’m not sleeping with him anymore.”

“Y/N he killed-“

“I understand you’re still hurting, Dad. I would be too if it was you and Pepper.” He saw the pain you still carried from only ever hearing stories about them, never getting to meet them yourself, in your eyes. There was also the love you had for a man you grew to know as himself and not the killer. “But, it wasn’t him. Surely, with that genius mind, you’d be able to comprehend that.” His head dropped with a sigh. “He loved me, he was kind to me, he made me happy. Isn’t that enough for you as my dad? Not as an avenger or a son? Just, my dad?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Looking back up, reaching his hand out to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “You to be happy.”

“I miss him, Dad, I miss him so much.”

He pulled you into his arms placing a hand on your head, allowing you to sob into his chest.

“I know, Kid, I know.”

[luvistqrzzz]

BROADCASTING LOVE and MEMORIES- a Park Sunghoon SMAU

With his future on line, Park Sunghoon needs to join a club to save his ass. But what happens when he is paired with LN YN- his ex best friend aka the girl he had awkwardly comforted 3 months back- for the broadcasting club? Will he be able to realise the feelings he has been hiding for a long time?

Alternatively, where you are his secret admirer but maybe anonymity is better than confronting your feelings?

PAIRING- sunghoon x f.reader

GENRE- smau with written parts, high school!au, fluff, angst (slight!), friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, crack (??)

WARNINGS- profanity, me trying but failing to be funny, inaccuracies related to a broadcasting club (yall we dont have those in india), basically me as an author being a mess, yn has way too much of obssession w taylor swift (where my swifties at??)

TAGLIST- open! Send an ask or dm to be added.

STATUS- discontinued

UPDATE SCHEDULE- once or twice a week (hopefully!)

STARTED- 01/04/2023

ENDED- ???

NOTE- sorry i had to repost this cuz the tags werent functioning properly ://!! All pictures taken from pinterest. Pictures of yn are for reference only and are not meant to state her appearence in any way. Please excuse me for the different sets of emojis for twitter and chat messages!

I have no intention of copying anyone, i really apologize beforehand if the idea or plot coincides with some other smau (there are literally sm great enhypen smaus that its almost impossible for me to check if my idea is similar to someone else's :///)

A/N- this bb is finally comin :((!!! Oh em geez im excited (manifesting i get to finish it). this was originally suppsoed to be a oneshot but welps last minute changes!! reblogs are veryyy appreciated ♡

(The chapter named mentioned here are subject to change)

Playlist

PROFILES::: yunjin's angels | park sunghoon hate club | please don't let this club fail😭

CHAPTERS:::

000: prologue- yn stop crushing on her ex bsf challenge failed

001: the 'zzz' revolution

002: sunghoon in his rizzless era (partly written)

003: who is #1ynhoon enthusiast?

004: taehyun's masterplan to make the broadcasting club famous

005: Sunghoon (Wanna be a rock)

006: Almost like... strangers

007: Heeseung's New Friend Group

008: Karma's a 😼

009: Good Ol' Ramen Club

010: im sorry (written)

011: something's... weird (written)

012: jay's advice scolding

013: tHaTs KinDa sUs tHo

014: mission ynhoon: failed

(More TBA!!)

TAGLIST- @4hysgf @yenqa @beomgyusonlywife

©luvistqrzzz do not repost, copy or translate my work

[kickingitwithkirk]

Restless Man

Summary: Beau Arlen finds himself in the middle of a case with more twists than a country road.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reina Cetanwakuwa-Stanley

Word Count: 417

Warnings: cursing, show level violence, derogatory remarks (some in native languages)

Square Filled: @jacklesversebingo -"Well, that went great."

A/N: The inklings for this started the first time I heard Jensen singing Restless Man. This work is partially from historical information and canon elements from the Big Sky series.

*Set after the series finally 3:13 That Old Feeling.

A/N II: All Native American words/sentences in this part are Cheyenne or Lakota resourced from freelang.net and glosbe.com *some algorithmically generated on these sites.

*Translation:  vé'ho'e-White people/member of Caucasian race

PROLOGUE 

Beau Arlen steps out of Dewell & Hoyt Investigation Agency into the bright morning sunshine that’s deceptively masking the crisp nip in the morning air signifying winter isn't far off.

Slipping on his sunglasses, he gazes across the street scrutinizing a group gathered outside a lawyer's office. Judging by their attire, they’re from the country club set except for one hidden under a Stetson and duster. 

The now permanent sheriff of Lewis and Clark County hears the door open as Denise Brisbane, the agency’s indispensable assistant and his incorrigible flirt, comes out. “Ohh, that can’t be good.”

 “Who’s the bigmouth?”

“Holland Stanley.”

“As in running for state senator Holland Stanley?”

“The same. Along with being involved in other various enterprises. Looks like the Stanley patriarchs' will reading isn’t going over well.” They continued watching when Holland noticed them redirecting his ire, “What the fuck you gawking at? Goddamn noisy vé'ho'e!” The accompanying rude gesture was the last straw for Arlen.

He starts off the curb when Denise makes a squeaky noise and grabs his arm, “Best not to have a public confrontation. You don’t want the Stanleys as enemies, trust me.” She glances back across the street and the Stetson-wearer nods at her in acknowledgment. 

“Thanks for the update, Pop’s,” Arlen hung up with an amused chuckle, “so someone called in about Holland raising holy hell over someone named Rain or…what’s with the faces ladies?”

“No faces here,” Denise says with a fake, innocent expression. She glances at her boss, Cassie Dewell, for backup and sees it's not happening. “Okay, there might be something.”

“What might be something?” 

They all turn to see Jenny Hoyt, Cassie’s business partner and Arlen's undersheriff, come in noticing everyone acting off and calls them on it. “Okay, what’s going on?” Cassie decides to take one for the team, “Denise thinks she saw Reina Stanley outside the lawyers across the street.” She watched her partner's composer shift coolly asking, “You sure it’s her?”

“I know it’s been like a decade since anyone has seen her but,“ Denise stopped when Hoyt did that thing with her mouth when irritated. Before Arlen could ask what the deal was his phone went off. “There was a bank robbery in Jefferson City…” Hoyt doesn’t wait for him to finish and turning on her stacked bootheels storms out yelling, “I’m driving!” 

“Ladies,” Arlen says hastily exiting and when they hear Hoyt’s Bronco peel out Denise says, “Well, that went great,” to which Cassie just shakes her head.

tbc

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

*tags open if interested