#YOU LOST YOUR MIND COS IVE LOST MINE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faegirly · 3 years

Note

Hello!! I'd be honoured to have you write a one-shot based on a request of mine! May I have a Kokomi x G/N Reader one-shot, where the former sees the latter get injured and takes care of them? Angst with a side of hurt comfort??

BTW, I absolutely adore your work and would love to co-write something with you as well, if you'd be up for it!! :D

hello hello ! thank you so much for your kind words, they really mean so much. and as per your request, here is your oneshot. i hope you enjoy 💫

(also also, ive never co-written something with another writer before but it sounds fun✨)

The Ache of War - Kokomi x General Gender Neutral Reader - Angst / Hurt Comfort

casualties.

as much as Kokomi thrived in the planning and execution of a precise attack on the battlefield, the casualites that would come from her and the oppositions elaborate attacks, or who they would be, was something she could never plan ahead for. her heart stung every time her soldiers returned to their home in Watatsumi Island bleeding and bruised, their numbers depleted, faces sunken with fatigue and lost hope. she couldn't bear it and as much as she was there to heal and tend to the wounded while leading them time and time again, Kokomi knew sitting around in the shrine while others were laying down their lives wasn't fair. the fight was all of yours, and so, for the first time, and after eventually convincing you to agree, Kokomi prepared herself to join her army on the front lines.

this time, she would be fighting right at your side. just the thought sent a flutter of anticipation through her veins, but finally standing on the soaked sand of the ruins at Fort Mumei, a wild thunderstorm lashing about the charcoal clouds high above her head as sheets of sharp rain fell all about her, Kokomi realised just how truly horrifying facing war would be.

for you, as general of Watatsumi's first platoon of soldiers, this was nothing out of the ordinary but it didnt make it enjoyable. knowing that Kokomi was somewhere on the battlefield with you, susceptible to harm, to injury, to death even... you pushed the thought from your mind and plunged your blood-slicked sword into the side of a Kairagi samurai while rain as sharp as ice whipped down around you.

gritting your teeth, you turned and called back to your men, "Move forward! Now's our chance!" before launching yourself back into the heart of battle, eyes alive with the light of the storm roaring around you, but in the quiet in the back of your mind, you prayed to the Watatsumi Omikami to keep Kokomi safe.

the high priestess pushed herself to her limits and beyond to heal her soldiers as they fought, her eyes scanning all around her through the sheets of rain and falling bodies. the Watatsumi force pushed the Shogunate forces back even further from the shore of Fort Mumei, and if they could get all the way back to Fort Fujitou, they would keep the immediate threat to Watatsumi at bay.

though it was cold and desolate on the wet sand, the sky a dull grey blanket high above her head, Kokomi felt a blossom of hope rose in her heart, and in it sprang forth the drive to fight harder along side her people. with every breath, she kept calling out encouragement and pushing back the army of the Shogun at the same time with her hydro power. the edges of the ruins were in sight now, and all that was needed was one last strong push against the Shogun's army.

"Fight for the Watatsumi Omikami!" Kokomi called out to the men behind her who lifted their rain-kissed swords and polearms one last time at the sound of her voice.

throwing out her arm towards the nearing shore of Fort Mumei, Kokomi called to them, "Don't lose strength now! We've almost overcome them. Let's pull together and give one last push towards vi-" but her words were cut from her lips when a familiar voice rang in her ear, strained in a tight cry that sliced through her heart as swiftly as the rain fell.

the high priestess's eyes span across the battlefield and immediately found you, back arched as two arrows pierced your back and through your chest, blood spraying out dark and heavy against the crystaline rain. your knees quickly buckled and gave out beneath you, the sword that had pulled you and your men through so many battles gleaming with your own blood as it flew from your hand and clatted at your side the sand.

the world around Kokomi froze in an instant, the rain seemingly turning to ice as she watched you fall in slow motion, her heart unbeating, her lungs refusing to draw in a breath. your knees hit the grey sand hard, blood dripping from your shoulder where the arrows had pieced clean through. so close to your heart, so close from taking you away from her.

"N-no..." Kokomi rasped, her pale fingers trembling as they lifted to her lips, but when she blinked against the rain and an electro infused Kairagi step through it, charging towards your fallen form with a gleaming katana raised high above his head in preparation to strike, a burst of lightening hot adrenaline shot through the high priestess's veins.

at once, the might of Watatsumi itself overcame her, appearing in the immediate reveal of the aquatic ceremonial garments. some of the soldiers around her from both sides gasped in shock at the sight of Kokomi's heightened form as rain bubbled about her, some Watatsumi warriors catching a second wind just from glancing at the high priestess invigorated for battle, but Kokomi's attention was on you. only on you. only on saving you.

heart slamming against her chest, Kokomi raced across the sand towards the kairagi, towards you, raindrops bouncing off her shoulders until she slid to your side and raised her hand in defense, a wash of hydro power exploding from her palm and sending the warrior flying away. once he was down, Kokomi's tearfilled, aqua eyes fell to you.

"please... p-please... stay with me... s-stay..." she whimpered as healing waters washed out of her and over your fallen form. Kokomi took your face in her shaking hands and cradled you as much as she could while the raging war around her began to fade with the passing storm.

the shrine was silent when Kokomi and the soldiers returned from the front lines. yes, the forces of Watatsumi Island had been victorious, but your injury had shaken the priestess to her core. the priestess said nothing to the shrine maidens or guards as you were carried to your chamber in the shrine, Kokomi personally attending to your healing and care, shut away from everyone else as the weight of her fear kept her quiet.

after coming to, the first thing you felt was a pair of soft, delicate hands moving over your back and shoulder, and then came a sudden explosion hot searing hot pain that made you cry out and flinch away. it took a moment to catch your breath and relax enough to sit back again, but as you did, your eyes found Kokomi at your side, a damp cloth clenched in her hands, eyes as wide as the moon wouldve been had it not been shrouded by the passing, empty stormclouds outside your window.

"K... Kokomi..." you croaked, holding her terrified gaze until she broke eye contact, biting her lip against the rising tears in her eyes before moving to try and clean your wound again. this time, you bit down your cries of pain for her sake, shouldering as much of it as you could while she washed and bandaged your shoulder, but when it was done, the silence didnt lift.

the weight of sorrow in Kokomi's eyes when you'd cried out was burned into your mind. it sat in your chest as heavy as an anchor that only seemed to press down harder when the priestess stood to leave. before she could, you reached out with your good hand to take hers, and flinching a little at your touch, the priestess paused.

"Kokomi..." you whispered tightly, your left arm completely numb and throbbing with dull pain, but your heart was heavier. "Kokomi, please... this isn't your fault."

the priestess bowed her head, her eyes sliding to your hand around her own, but she said nothing.

heart beating heavy in your chest, you continued, "this wasn't your fault. things like this... in war, they happen alot. you can't prevent them no matter how hard you try."

"but i promised that i would keep you safe. and i couldnt." Kokomi finally croaked, eyes flooding with tears so suddenly she couldnt bat them away before they fell. "I-I... I should've..."

your chest tightened as you watched her words drown out under a bubbling whimper, and with the little strength you had, you quickly pulled her back to the bed and wrapped your good arm around her, holding her as close and as tightly to yourself as you could manage.

"you saved my life, Kokomi." you muttered into her ear, your thumb rubbing between her shoulders blades slowly.

"b-but..."

"war is messy and ugly." you continued, voice full of warmth despite the razor sharp pain stabbing down your left arm and chest. "but you kept our men safe and alive, your fought tirelessly, you led by example.... and you saved my life. and for that, I am forever grateful."

and then the priestess broke, gasping a sob before hiding her face in your neck, her body trembling against yours.

"We'll heal. Together. I promise." you whispered after a moment, and when she only choked another cry and clung to you tighter, you sighed into her long silken hair.

you wished you could hold her tightly to your chest and tell her it was going to be ok like you usually did, but this time it felt different. the air was heavy with the pain and sharp with the horror that coming so close to losing each other made real, and alone in the starlit chambers with the weeping high priestess, you could only keep silent, grateful that you were alive but hoping even more that such a fear would never have to be experienced for either of you ever again.

end

#genshin impact #genshin kokomi #kokomi #kokomi x reader #writeblr #genshin impact oneshot #angst #hurt comfort #faeleas writes #faeleas requests

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wavesmp3 · 3 years

Text

[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :)

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass.

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead.

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before.

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud.

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that.

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were.

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you.

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away.

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it.

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself.

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways.

“So you know now?”

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident.

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium.

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him?

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead.

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then.

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it.

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is.

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite.

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak.

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him.

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily.

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away.

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him.

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair.

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead.

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday.

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you.

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are.

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand.

“You’re here.”

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why.

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you.

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him.

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them.

“I’m sick.”

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question.

“Again.”

I’m so sorry.

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say.

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital.

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.”

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him.

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him.

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-”

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway.

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.”

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed.

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person.

You sigh. “One more surgery.”

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.”

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.”

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.”

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight.

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be.

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee.

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open.

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively.

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality.

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.”

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back.

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it.

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it.

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in.

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again.

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is.

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.”

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him.

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment.

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds.

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest.

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?”

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does.

You say yes.

act iii. scene v. take ii.

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him.

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him.

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”

#sunwoo x reader #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #mine #*clouds

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farfromsugafanfic · 4 years

Text

Innocence

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: violence, guns/gun violence, cursing, violence against women, home invasion

Synopsis: When you end up getting caught in the crossfire, you’re brought to the local mafia leader who promises to rehabilitate you. Although, falling in love you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Shit, she's bleeding out," someone said from a few feet away.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know some random lady."

You moaned in pain as a pair of boots approached you and eventually, you could make out the fuzzy face of someone crouching over you. You couldn't tell where the pain was coming from, only that you felt it rippling through your body

"Fuck, Namjoon doesn't like when innocent people get hurt. We've gotta take her back with us."

"What? Isn't that just part of it? Innocent people get caught up in this shit all the time."

"Not the way Namjoon does it, come on, come grab her legs."

As one of the men looped his arms underneath your armpits, you felt one final jolt of pain that felt like it was ripping your body apart before everything went black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Is she going to live?" one of the men who'd brought you back asked.

"Yes, barely," Namjoon said, his face firm and his voice steadier than normal. "You're sure it wasn't one of your bullets?"

"All of our bullets were accounted for, sir."

Namjoon nodded. "If I find out either of you are lying, you know the consequences?"

Both men nodded in understanding.

The doctor emerged from the room where you were. "She's waking up, sir. I'll leave the rest to you. Call me if she starts showing any concerning signs."

Namjoon nodded and waved the doctor off and entered your room.

If it weren't for the drab gray appearance of the room, it would've looked like you were in a normal hospital room. An IV in your arm and white sheets pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were still closed, but your heart monitor was beginning to slowly pick up from it's near flat line when you'd arrived.

He pulled a stool from the corner of the room and sat next to your watching as your chest moved slowly up and down. The doctor had extracted the bullet and cleaned the blood from your skin and clothes. Your bloody jeans and sweatshirt had been washed and were folded on a table in the corner of the room. Your hair was still dirty, but the blood washed from its tips.

You looked younger than when he'd first seen you and it only made his chest ache. He had no idea who you were or what you had been doing in that part of town, but you certainly didn't deserve the bullet in your shoulder. It had nearly missed your collarbone and the important blood vessels, but you'd still lost enough blood to be anemic.

Your eyelids began to flutter and Namjoon sat still as he met them.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You opened your eyes and were immediately met with a pair of unfamiliar brown ones.

"Hello," the man said. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together.

Other than the fact that you had no idea who the man was, the more concerning thing was that you had no idea where you were and you were seemingly alone with him. If you had to take a guess, the room almost seemed like a storage room of some sort; a cement floor and shelves lining all but two of the walls. They were mostly empty except for vague medical supplies.

"Where am I?" you asked, the beep of your heart monitor beginning to quicken.

"You're safe." The man sat up straighter, but his eyes never left you. "I'm Kim Namjoon. What's your name?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Y/N."

"Just Y/N," he asked, his eyebrow arching.

"For now."

He chuckled before getting up and heading for a sink in the corner of the room. He filled a glass and walked back over to you with a pill in his hand.

"Take this," he said, placing the pill in your palm and holding the glass above you for when you were ready. You stared at him for a moment before glancing down at the pill. It looked normal and based upon the fact that this man was most likely the one responsible for saving your life, he would have no reason to kill you now, right? "It's an iron supplement. Cause you lost so much blood. You'll have to take them every day for a couple months."

You nodded and placed the pill in your mouth and swallowed it down. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could trust Namjoon, at least that he wouldn't kill you.

"Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were shot."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You were on your way home after work. You'd just graduated and started in an entry-level position at your dream company, but it left you exhausted and overworked. It was already nearly 11 and you knew you should've allowed your co-worker to drive you home, but you didn't know him well enough yet to trust him with where you lived.

You normally felt fairly safe walking through the city by yourself. You'd grown up there and you knew the areas to avoid, but you were tired and decided to take a short cut through a rougher neighborhood.

You took out your headphones and increased your pace so that you were walking faster than your normal pace, but wouldn't look too scared or suspicious.

For the first ten minutes, everything was normal, but as you neared the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of yours, you heard yelling. You looked around and couldn't find a source, so you kept walking and as you crossed an alleyway, a man ran into you, knocking off your feet.

You sat up, your vision a little blurry and your head still coming off its daze. As your vision came back, you stood up and braced yourself against the wall. That's when you looked up and the shot came. You couldn't see who shot you, if they meant to, or if it was just an accident. Heck, you couldn't even tell which direction the bullet came from.

You fell to your knees and eventually on your back. At first, the pain was unbearable, you felt the blood pouring out of your shoulder, although couldn't tell if it was from the back or front. But, eventually, the pain ceased and your eyelids began to feel heavy. It was soon after the man lifted you that a final burst of pain caused everything to go black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You don't know who shot you?" he asked. The darkness in his eyes as he asked the question caused the pain in your shoulder to flare.

You shook your head. "It happened too fast."

He nodded, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. You then only saw strangers as they came to give you meals or check your wound which still had a long way to heal.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Morning," Namjoon said, in the exact same cadence he said it every morning. He laid a tray over your lap which had a spinach and cheese omelet, toast, and a rotating menu of meats. Today was two slices of bacon. And, of course, on the side was a pair of iron supplements.

"Think you can eat it all today?" he asked. While you needed the nutrients, you had basically no appetite most of the time, but today, the toast was spread with a red jam it usually wasn't, which made you bite into it immediately. Raspberries. Your favorite. "Why don't you tell me about your job today?"

He pulled a chair to your bed and flipped it around and sat on it backward, allowing his arms to dangle off the top. The two of you had promised to tell each other something about each other each day. You knew it was a way to get information out of you and monitor your well being, but you didn't really mind. It started to become one of your favorite parts of the day.

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

He stiffened at that. You had your suspicions that Namjoon's job was less than legal considering how you ended up meeting him. You just weren't sure exactly what it was he did. Was he some sort of drug lord? A gang member? A pimp? Your stomach turned at the possibilities.

"Okay," he said. "You just have to promise that you won't be scared of me."

"O-okay."

He nodded, although you knew he caught the shaking in your voice. "You first."

"I—uh—I work for a non-profit that benefits women who have been victims of violence," you said. "I help process all the donations and make sure all the finances match up. I was an accounting major in college, but I didn't really feel like doing other people's taxes for the rest of my life. I want to feel like I'm making some sort of difference. Even though I don't make as much money, I feel like it's worth it."

"You are," he said. "You are making a difference."

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but it wasn't awkward or tense, it was simply you and Namjoon in your own thoughts. His eyes locked on you and your eyes unconsciously noticed the dimples on his cheeks that appeared and disappeared as he talked.

"All right, you promised," you said. "Your turn."

Namjoon's posture straightened and he cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I'm sort of the leader of the local mafia. I mean, it's not quite as nefarious as it seems. It's mostly just money laundering and stuff like that."

"But, you still kill people?"

"I never have. My men do only when necessary."

You gulped and pulled your eyes away from him. "Then, why did you save me?"

"Because I don't like innocent people getting hurt."

"How did this happen? How did you become the leader? You--you just don't seem like the type."

"My family," he said. "They kind of started this whole thing. I went to college and everything, but ultimately, I didn't know how to be anything else."

"You know you could always leave it behind. You're the leader. You could end all of this."

"It's not that easy. If I end it, I immediately become a target or someone would start it back up. And, let's just say, you don't want this kind of operation falling into the wrong hands. Many wouldn't have batted an eye at you getting shot."

"Don't think you're the hero here. Whether or not it was your men who shot me, whether or not you chose to save me, I still got shot because of you."

Namjoon's jaw stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. "Although, it's not quite as easy to just leave."

"What did you study in college?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Literature and Writing."

You smiled. "Why don't you read to me?" you asked. "I never really got to take any literature classes in college and I missed them. I still have longer to recover. You could read to me whenever you wanted to."

"I'd like that," Namjoon said, his dimples appearing and lighting up his face.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You laid back with your head and neck pressing back against the pillow as you closed your eyes as Namjoon's voiced lulled you asleep. You knew it wasn't just his voice and the way his voice took on a smooth rhythm as he read or the way his voice grew hoarse eventually. The doctor had slowly been weaning you off of the painkillers, while the pain wasn't as intense as before, it still exhausted you.

He was reading from Jane Eyre a book you certainly hadn't expected Namjoon to choose. The gothic element was enough to send shivers down your spine, but not keep you from falling asleep.

You were halfway through the book now and you knew you would never finish. Your condition was improving and you barely needed pain medication anymore. The doctor came once a day and today he had told you that he thought you'd be able to go back to your own apartment and life the next day.

Namjoon stopped reading and it jolted you out of your half-slumber.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I thought you were asleep."

You opened your eyes and shook your head, although your eyelids were only half open crescent moons and the way you were forcing them open made Namjoon chuckle.

"You're tired, anyway," he said. He closed the book and stood up from his chair. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

You watched as Namjoon walked towards the door and felt something in your chest. "Wait," you said. "This is the last night and we haven't finished the story."

"Y/N, we still have half the book left. There's no way--"

"Just stay with me tonight," you said. "I'll have to go back to being in my apartment all alone tomorrow and I don't know. I've enjoyed having you around."

"Y/N--" Namjoon said. "You're just--this isn't right--"

Namjoon's eyes met yours for a second before he ripped them away and walked out of the room with the book still in hand.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"She--she asked me to stay with her," Namjoon said. He sat in his desk chair with his feet resting up on the desk, something he only did when he was thinking deeply.

"Is that a bad thing?" his right-hand man, Yoongi asked. "You like her, right?"

"Yes, but Yoongi, she hasn't been out of that room for weeks. She's only seen me and the doctor with only a couple of exceptions. It's just Stockholm Syndrome."

"We didn't kidnap her though. She could've left if she wanted."

"Yes, Yoongi, but why would she? She would've had to pay for medical care elsewhere. Even if we didn't mean to, we trapped her here. She's hardly seen anyone but me. Of course, she'll become attached."

"It's not like you were torturing her, Joon. You were helping her and I see the way you look at her too. Everyone does."

"If I wanted to, I can't give her the life she deserves. She's doing good things, Yoongi. She's innocent and I want her to stay that way." Yoongi nodded in his head in understanding, but there lingered a small glint of hesitation in his eyes. "And, even if I could, keeping her around her is dangerous. If our rivals found out about her, she'd become a target."

Namjoon sighed and stood up from his desk and shuffled through his papers. "Make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Keep a couple of men in the area for the next week or so just in case it was a targeted attack."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"He's not coming?" you asked the man who introduced himself as Yoongi.

He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look. "But, he did want me to give you this."

Yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre Namjoon had read to you. It was an old copy--at least fifty years old--and he had a bookmark stuck halfway through. You opened to the marked page and found his handwriting on the bookmark. He wrote in black ink. It was neat, although smudged around the edges because he'd closed the book on it when the ink was still wet.

It's your turn to read now Namjoon x

Your eyes focused down on the 'x'. It certainly didn't mean anything, it was just his way of signing off, but it left you satisfied as you walked out of the door escorted by Yoongi and a few other men.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

3 months later

"Y/N!" one of your coworkers said, rushing into your office. "You're never going to believe this."

"What?" you asked looking up from your work.

"Some guy just came in here. He was so handsome and wearing a fancy suit and he wrote us a thirty thousand dollar check." She held up the check so you could see it.

"No way," you said, grabbing the check from her hands. You held it up to the light and placed it under the black light you had to verify authentic donations. You had a weird feeling in your gut and you glanced down at the signature on the check. You couldn't make out a particular name, but a shiver ran down your spine. "What was his name?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he told us his real name. But, you know the rich types, always wanting to protect their identities."

"Y/C/N, what. was. his. name?"

"Mr. Rochester."

6 months later

"We're a bit short his month, Y/N," your boss said. "You know I hate to deduct from wages. It wasn't much this month."

You nodded. It was the reality of working for a non-profit. Sometimes you got paid and sometimes you didn't, but you knew the money was going to people more deserving of yourself. You waited until you were on your way home to open the envelope and see just how much you were getting that month. When your eyes met the total, you slowly looked down before continuing onto your apartment.

You pushed the key into the lock wondering just how you were going to scrounge up enough money for next month's rent. You could always sell something or do some odd jobs on the weekends. You opened your door and stepped inside feeling your foot slip forward, causing you to nearly trip, your only savior is your right hand was still holding on to the doorknob.

You got your footing and bent down to find a small envelope that was slid under your door. Your name was printed neatly on it. Normally, this would freak you out, but you noticed the same black ink from the bookmark in the copy of Jane Eyre.

I know money has been tight. Here's rent for the next couple months. Keep doing what's important x Mr. Rochester

Tears came to your eyes and your bit your index finger as you read the note over and over again. He was absolutely insufferable and part of you wanted to rip up the check, but instead, you slipped it out of the envelope and into your purse.

9 months later

It was a quiet Saturday night when you heard the knock at your door. It was nearly 11 pm and you weren't expecting anyone. You were already in your pajamas and you had picked up Jane Eyre for the first time in a few months. It wasn't that you found it particularly hard to read, but every time you picked it up, you were reminded of him. The man you had no idea why you still thought about. The man who occasionally came into your life and then left just as quickly.

The knock came again and louder this time. This time panic rushed down your spine and you froze. Was it best to approach the door and give away the fact you weren't asleep? Or was it best to just act like you'd already done to bed and hope they go away?

You stayed put, but clutched your cellphone close to you. Another knock never came, but instead the rustling of the doorknob and the clicking of the lock. It was when you heard it successfully unlock that you ran towards the kitchen. You grabbed your largest kitchen knife and crouched in the corner.

You were in the middle of dialing emergency services when you were yanked up by your hair and your cellphone went clattering to the floor.

"Ah, yes, you are her," the man said.

You didn't recognize the man in front of you. He was taller than you and held your hair in a tightening grip that caused you to whimper.

"You're plainer than I expected. He's head over heels for you, so I figured you must be beautiful. But, I guess, you must have better things to offer." He smirked, but unlike the smirks Namjoon sometimes let slip, this one terrified you.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"It doesn't matter to you baby girl," he said. "All you need to know is that you're going to die."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Namjoon!" Yoongi said, running into the room, breathless. His face was red and his eyes were creased, almost in fear. It was uncommon for Yoongi to get so worked up, let alone run. He spoke when he finally caught his breath, "Min-sung," he said. "Min-sung was seen near her apartment."

Min-sung had once been a trusted man, but he began getting greedy. Wanting to take all the jobs. Skimming money off the top. He felt betrayed when Namjoon finally let him go. You'd think he'd be grateful, most other bosses would've had him killed for how much money he stole, but no. Min-sung's mind was only focused on the drugs he took and the money he needed to buy them.

Namjoon's eyes widened. He pulled open his desk drawer, nearly pulling the entire drawer out of it's setting. He pulled out a handgun and fed in the clip. It had not once been fired. Namjoon had never had the urge nor the need to kill, until that very moment.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"I'm going to play with you," he said. "To let him know you suffered. His precious little secret on the south side of the city."

"Please, I don't know who you're talking about. The walls are thin. I'm sure the neighbors are worried by now." Both were lies, but you hoped it came off convincing enough. He'd let go of your hair, but now he straddled you.

"Tell me, how do you want to die?"

"I don't want to die."

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart. But, you're going to. I'm being generous and giving you a choice. I could take that knife you had when I came in and stab you or I could kill you with my hands on your throat. Or, I could hold your head down in the bathtub and watch as you writhe around--"

Tears pushed out of your eyes and you felt blood sprout from your bottom lip as you dug into it. You squirmed underneath the man trying to wriggle yourself free or one of your limbs free.

"You know, I haven't really given much thought to dying," you said. You slowly slipped your foot upwards until you had enough leverage to bring your knee into his crotch.

He doubled over in enough pain for you to free yourself. You ran back towards the kitchen to grab the knife from earlier. You wrapped your palm around the hilt, but he was behind you before you could turn around. With all your might, you forced the knife backward, but it was at an awkward angle. Yet, you still heard him wince.

The knife dropped from your hand and the man turned you around, forcing your back against the counter. You noticed a long cut on his arm and felt a small sense of pride. At least if he was going to kill you, he would have a scar.

His hands wrapped around your neck and his thumbs sat right on top of your windpipe. You made eye contact with him as he pushed down and you made a small croaking sound as your eyes grew wider and your toes pointed in reaction to the lack of air.

"Stop...please...help...Namjoon..."

You managed only a few words before you ran out of air to manage any sounds. Your vision was beginning to blur and you knew in a few seconds you'd black out and it'd be the end.

The last few moments were so loud you couldn't make out what happened. Yelling, shuffling, a slam of a door, a loud pop. Then, it was all over.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Y/N, Y/N, please come back to me."

You opened your eyes to see Namjoon crouched over you. Blood stained his shirt and even parts of his skin, but his hand was clean as it caressed your cheek softly.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was too late. The doctor is on his way and so are my men to clean up everything. We'll pay off the neighbors to keep things quiet if we have to. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried, Namjoon." Your voice was hoarse and still not all the way there. You felt the bruises forming on your neck and your entire body ached. You turned you head to see your attacker laying in a pool of blood a few feet away.

"Hey, hey, don't look at that. Come on."

"I'm not a child."

"That doesn't mean you need to see a dead guy on your kitchen floor."

He lifted you up and carried you into your bedroom. After setting you down, he went back out to the living area and grabbed the copy of Jane Eyre.

"You didn't get very far."

"I've been busy."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

1 year later

Namjoon is almost done setting up everything in his new office when he hears a soft knock at the door. A delivery person carrying a large bouquet of flowers strides in and sets the vase on his desk and left without a word.

Curious, Namjoon walked from the corner of the room where he had been shelving books and to the center of the room. He plucked the card from among the flower heads.

I finally found time to finish the book. Congrats on the new job. Let's meet soon. Love, Jane

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friendlylocalwhumper · 4 years

Text

Quinn has made a lot of mistakes in their life. Done cruel things, made decisions that would cost lives. Abandoned people to suffer. Pushed friends who were already close to the edge so they’d have a breakdown. Picked at difficult memories and stressors until someone innocent was a sobbing mess.

As they stare down into the drum of the washing machine to assess the carnage of the shredded teddy bear, Quinn grimly thinks that this is one of the worst things they’ve ever done.

The walk from the laundry room to the living room is a march to the gallows, slow and pensive. It wasn’t a good call to put that stuffed animal in the washing machine. It needed to be hand-washed - or better yet, left alone entirely. Maybe they were taking out some kind of revenge on its owner for needing something childish to cuddle up to for comfort. Maybe they were too focused on cleaning and completing tasks instead of considering the feelings and needs of another, as Quinn has been known to do.

They find Jo sitting on the couch, folded up small and napping upright. Even when there is no cage for them to cower in, Jo manages to keep themself small as if invisible metal grating is hugging their sides. They are a fragile weed daring stupidly to grow from a crack in the floor of a cold, haunted alley. There is contempt on the face of the magic user looking over them.

Until the sound of heavy beads clattering around in the washer echoes in their mind. They were tempted, upon first hearing the sound, to write off the loss of the teddy bear as meaningless. It’s expensive, as stuffed animals go, but wouldn’t be hard to replace. It was dirty, so washing it wasn’t a ridiculous idea. And all material things are arguably meaningless.

But Quinn knows that what matters isn’t the bear itself.

They sit slowly on the couch, watching as Jo wakes quickly. They sleep often, but wake instantly at any change in the room around them. Jo is a survivor who seems like they’ll never be convinced that it’s any safer out here than it was in their cage.

“Jo,” Quinn greets neutrally. Round green eyes brimming with uncertainty lock onto their face in search of danger.

“Quinn?” It’s hardly speech. More of a squeak. Someone cruel would smile at the sound, which is why Quinn nearly grimaces at it.

“I have something to tell you.”

The technically accurate but ominous sentence has Jo folding up smaller, hiding their hands between their thighs and their chest. “Okay.”

“Give me your hand.” Quinn pauses, then adds, “Please.”

“Yes-” Jo hurries to obey, their whole arm shaking. “But… why?”

“I’m just going to hold it. I have to tell you something that might make you sad, and you’ll handle it better if your hand is being held.”

They take the other’s frail hand. Jo’s hands are always cold. Quinn cups it carefully and looks right in their aggravatingly doe-like eyes.

“It’s about your stuffed bear.”

Jo jerks, their free hand suddenly patting at their side, along the crease of the couch. “He’s not here. Did he fall?”

“He didn’t fall.”

“Did I leave - leave him somewhere I wasn’t supposed to? I’m sorry, I can get him!”

“No, Jo. Look at me.” Verdant eyes that were scouring the room find somber brown ones. Quinn takes a steadying breath. “I… washed him for you.”

There is still anxiety in that face, but hope mixes in with it now. “Oh. Thank you. Is he dry yet? Can I - can I have him back, please?”

The hope is shallow, thin. Jo’s voice cracked on that tremulous question. Maybe they can read Quinn’s expression, their tone.

“No, you can’t.”

The hand that was patting around in search for the stuffed animal retreats. It looks at first like it’ll be pinned to their chest again for safety, but instead it’s pressed to their stomach. Jo’s countenance holds nothing short of devastation.

“Why?” It’s whispered, tempered. Quinn has never once seen Jo step out of line, never seen them react fully and freely.

“It… he’s damaged. I put him in the washer, and it… he’s… not in one piece anymore. I don’t think it can be fixed.”

Jo is locking themself down. Bottling up their pain and locking it away before they can be caught letting it spill out. Plump tears bead on their lashes, their bottom lip wobbling. There is no way to muster up frustration toward Jo right now as they process their grief. Quinn squeezes Jo’s hand gently.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Whispers Quinn, and those big tears fall in thin tracks down freckled cheeks. Jo takes a shuddery breath, trying to remain quiet, but then their face screws up and they pull their hand out of Quinn’s to hide their face.

“You to-ook, took, took him away…” Wet sniffles and chest-deep sobs don’t evoke anything in Quinn except for a dense ache in their chest. No distaste, no urge to leave so Jo can be messy in private. “Took him away, and… and I’ll never see him again…”

It’s not about the teddy bear. The sobs spilling out of Jo are the wretched grief of someone who lost more than they could ever put to words.

“He didn’t have a name, I didn’t give him a name, please give… give him back, let me ha-ave him…”

“I can’t.” Quinn tries to lay a comforting hand on their shoulder, but Jo flinches back, hiding under their own slender limbs. “I… wish I could, Jo. I can get you a new one. For a little more money, you can get a heavier one, it’s supposed to help with the… with the grief.”

“I want him, I-I want him back, please give him back, Quinn, please!” A miserable hiccuping fit settles in to punctuate the sobs. “Gi-ive, give him, you can’t, he was mine, he was, I-I, I co-ould’ve been good, been a good…”

Regardless of Jo’s taut fear and progressive attempts to hide from touch right now, Quinn wraps them up in a hug. They squeeze and lean their weight until Jo feels grounded enough to sob openly, hidden under their own body and someone else’s.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Quinn repeats. “I know what happened. I’m sorry you lost him.”

Wetness reaches Quinn’s knee, soaked into their pants. They wonder how much you have to cry for tears to spread across a couch cushion like that. They wonder if anyone has ever cried as hard as Jo is right now.

“We’ll get you a new one. It won’t be the same, I know. Until you have it, though… when you need that weight, the contact, ask me for a hug. I’m not very… cuddly, I know. But I owe you for this. Tell me you’ll ask when you need it, Jo.”

“I, I… I will.”

It’s pure fear, despair. Obedience. Jo has barely started their recovery. Quinn can only hope that they can help when Jo does ask for it. They will pay whatever it takes to get a new weighted teddy bear delivered today. It may cost four times what the bear itself is priced at, but Jo needs it. They need it so badly.

It’s not about the bear, Quinn knows. But a teddy bear is the best that Jo is going to get.

#whump #drabble #angst #quinn #jo #grief #guilty #implied death #child death tw #implied/assumed but definitely a tw that needs to be on this #mine

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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years

Text

So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I | Part II | Part III

Part IV: Close

Getting the generator up and running was by far the most straightforward task of the day so far. The hastily snapped photo of the instruction manual proved invaluable for overriding safety protocols and bypassing security measures, so what could have taken hours, took minutes. Backup power hummed to life, emergency lights flickered awake, and the distant hum of air circulation kicking in thrummed. Regrettably, the cold storage was worse on the second entry when the entirety of the room became visible.

It wasn’t six Tyrants; it was ten. Two more tacked on either end of the previous row that Leon hadn’t been able to make out in the dark. Whatever Leon did here out, waking them up was not on his to-do list. The walk back through the specimen storage had Leon shivering, and not from the chill of the cold storage. In full light, each frozen mutation was more hideous than the last.

“We should try the labs,” Ada said.

Leon sincerely wished he could be as unruffled in the face of horror as Ada was. Even back in Racoon City, she’d never flinched. “Probably our best bet,” he agreed somewhat remorsefully. Who knew what else they’d find in the dilapidated ruins of mad science, but Leon needed what he came for. He couldn’t prove the White House was dirty yet, and he needed to know who was sitting at the top. He needed evidence for the President. “On me.”

With Ada at his back, Leon felt marginally better as they slunk down the destroyed hallways, complete with cliché flickering lights and creepy shadows. Together, they searched the ruined labs in the seemingly endless maze of corridors and smashed equipment. They took out than a few BOWs, moving seamlessly together as if they’d been partnered for years, and not reluctant companions out of necessity. Ada had surprisingly become an apathetic ally that Leon could rely on to keep him alive in a tight spot.

Then again, the last time Leon had been a part of a team, an entire crew had lost their lives, the secretary of defence had been murdered, his CO transformed into a murderous BOW, and the woman he’d kinda hit on had her neck snapped. So the bar was a bit low, and maybe solo was the way to go. No one to let down. No one to disappoint.

Leon didn’t mind the occasional team-up with the BSAA boys because of one particular pain in the ass captain's no man left behind mandate, and that was something Leon could get behind. You can’t save the world if you don’t care about the people around you. Sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice would get them nowhere.

Leon darted into the next lab. Two BOWs. Leon took out the first, and seconds later, Ada dispatched the second. In the corner of the room was a miraculously intact PC with an uncracked screen. Leon booked it across the room and snagged the chair before Ada could steal it out from under him. The boot was tediously slow. You’d think state-of-the-art research facilities would have better computers than whatever monstrosity Leon was coaxing to life. Then again, maybe age contributed to its durability.

Leon set his Samurai Edge down strategically on the desk next to the mouse, but out of Ada’s reach and in a position he could easily grab with the twitch of his hand. Ada’s expression pinched, and he grinned, feeling cheeky.

Ada folded her arms and sighed as if put out by his show. “Still don’t trust me?”

Leon rolled his eyes and focused on the task at hand. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Careful, that almost hurt,” Ada said and slunk off to search for her own prize since Leon was unwilling to play nice.

“Don’t go too far,” Leon called. He laughed when Ada cheekily waved at him over her retreating back. “Women.”

On edge, Leon shifted through years of data. He’d gotten lucky that this particular machine was connected to the main server, but the majority of the files were encrypted, and he didn’t have time to decrypt them now. Plus, Hunnigan would be faster, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. The women in his life were a bit scary, but in a good way. The kind of way you could bet your life on.

From what he could tell from the bits he could piece together, the closure of the mine coincided with the lab security breach. The village had been abandoned shortly after. Had the villagers known what lived below them? Probably not.

Leon began to transfer the files to a secure drive for Hunnigan to sort through later. Suddenly, gunfire erupted in the distance.

“Shit.” Leon snagged his handgun. The transfer wasn’t done, but another burst of gunfire and Leon barely paused, glancing back at the transfer speed before he raced off to help Ada.

Ada was three labs down surrounded by seven zombies. She’d already taken out four, but she was cornered.

Leon rushed in, drawing their attention. It was enough for Ada to take out the one closest to her, and Leon dispatched the final three.

“Losing your touch?”

Ada’s smile was far too sweet. “I thought you liked playing the hero.”

The lab looked like all the others they had searched, right down to the cracked computer monitors, smashed towers, broken lab equipment. “Find anything,” Leon asked.

“Nothing important,” Ada said. She picked her way back across the lab to Leon’s side and lay a hand on Leon’s forearm.

Leon inhaled deeply to stop himself from flinching at the unwanted touch. People were always too touchy-feely. Growing up in the foster system, touch rarely equated to a good thing, more often than not, it meant punishment for something he probably hadn’t even done. One of his foster mothers used to throw him into a cold shower when he had what she considered too much energy. Because wanting to explore outside was too much from an eleven-year-old.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Leon pulled his arm out of her light grip and stepped back.

A light overhead sparked. That was the only warning they had before the fixture crashed to the ground. Leon shoved Ada out of its path, shielding her body with his own as he pressed her back into the wall behind them.

They were far too close. Leon could feel the heat of her body, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her tongue as it darted out to lick her lower lip.

Ada leaned in. “All you had to do was ask.”

“No, thanks.” Leon jerked back, spun on his heels, and gunned down the incoming BOW attached to the commotion. “Stay out of trouble,” he called over his shoulder. Hopefully, the transfer was complete.

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#re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #ada wong #leon s kennedy #infinite darkness #re2make #re degeneration #resident evil 4 #re 4

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vesperstalksclones · 4 years

Text

Whats this? A naughty story about REX??? 😱

(18 +) - be warned!!

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sucking off a Vod. Im not blushing, you're blushing

Uses: cures boredom, loneliness, anxiety, and scratches that "itch"; helpful for all clone lovers, but especially those who are preoccupied (like me) with the idea of going down on one of our gorgeous troopers.

Ingredients: a bit of deep throating, ample saliva, hair pulling, teasing, and lots of sweet sweet clone rod

A lil sumthin sumthin inspired by the glorious bunch of peeps that admin for and show up at clonesandmoans.

○○○○○○○○○○○

"On. Your. Knees." Fives postured, hands on his hips, trying his best to look as dignified as possible.

Jesse burst out laughing and his friend's poor attempt to mimic their commanding officer. Amidst chuckles and heckling from the other clones, you sat chewing on your lip, trying to make sense of Fives' act.

I knew Rex as a stern commander, albeit he was thoughtful of his men. I'd never heard him speak with such a dominant and aggressive tone or issue orders in such a basic way. What was Fives on about?

"I don't get it…"

Fives and Jesse glance up at the sound of your voice. They had become two of your best pals since coming on as a med tech three months ago. Torrent company was known for getting the job done, even if it meant getting blown up in the process. The result was a patient load in the med bay that often flooded in to the halls. The modest staff couldn't keep up, even with the support of the clone field medics. The call had come in for more hands, and yours had been chosen.

"Mph" Jesse grunted. "Umbara. A shit traitor named Krell. He did us pretty dirty; lost us a lot of brothers."

Fives chimed in "Rex took it pretty hard. He felt responsible as our CO. It was his decision to execute Krell. He said that; commanded him 'On Your Knees'. Now when he's pissed that's our tag line…." Fives ducked his head, glaring up from under his brows and growled out the words low in his throat.

I swallowed hard. I couldn't deny that I had a thing for these men. They were fit and firm and strong. I had handled so many of these gorgeous tanned bodies since I'd reported to Torrent and It was a guilty hidden pleasure of mine. I was glad to save their lives and stitch up their wounds and soothe their fevers. The fact that they were built like every maiden's fantasy under that armour was a surprising and welcome bonus.

And then there was the Captain. He always presented with an air of quiet dignity. Even when he professed worry for his injured troops, he always always remaind poised. Many of the other soldiers jumped at the chance to flirt with a young available female. Especially one who's job included removing their clothing and occasionally (if they were lucky) touching their twig and berries if necessary. Some, like Fives, were shameless in their chatter. He'd offered to service me several times. Honestly it didn't bother me, he was so sweet and silly and friendly about it, like an overly large puppy. That's how we became friends, as messed up as it seemed. He had offered to paint my molars. I politely declined and checked around his balls for herniations. Instant besties.

Rex had never had to present to me before. Apparently he preferred to report to his medic, Kix, for treatment. No, I had only ever traded injury reports and small talk with the commander. He was always perfectly poised. Focused. Buttoned up.

I wanted to unbutton him.

In the most depraved ways I could imagine. I wanted that decent, respectful man to use me like his play thing and leave my sticky, sweaty, and shaking.

Again… a dry swallow at the thought.

Fives cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Hey uhh… Jess! Look at this shit!"

Jesse swung around, joining us. "Whats that Vod?"

Fives lowered himself to my eye level. He repeated the low growl, and had the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You fekking like that don't you ad'ika??" Jesse snickered and ruffled my hair.

Fives stroked his goatee. "Got a thing for the good Captain, do you Nurse? Well…"

"Kriffing… ugh! Fives stop!" I covered my face not sure if I was embarrassed or relieved that my friends had found me out.

I pushed him out of the way and scrambled up from the lounge chair. "I have to run! My rotation starts in 15! Jesse, Fives, … keep your mouths shut… or I'll order cavity searches on both of you!"

"Don't threaten us with a good time!"

○○○○○○○○○○○○○

A few days had passed and I had all but forgotten the exchange with the boys. I was preforming an inventory in a satellite med station, counting off bandages, checking the use by dates on IV bags… important profoundly boring work. Footsteps echoed in the adjoining exam room, big and heavy. Looking to the door… there stood the captain… clad in his boots and blacks, arms crossed as he studied me.

I straightened and tidied myself.

"Yes Captain?"

"It's come to my attention…" he thought for a moment, " some of my men think I make you uncomfortable."

Uh….

"I beg pardon? Not at all sir!" I crossed the room, intent on showing him that his presence was not unwelcome. "Whatever gave them that notion?"

"Apparently a discussion of my behavior in the field caused you visible discomfort…"

Fucking Fives. And. Jesse. They would die for this.

"No sir…" I thought back to Fives impression and couldn't help but flush from the thought. The real thing was standing an arms length away from me. And we were very alone.

I stared into his amber eyes, the square stern set of his face. I imagined his full lips forming the words. Commanding me.To my knees.

The heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I couldn't look any longer without embarrassing myself.

"It seems to me ad'ika, that you are not being very truthful." His lilting accent filled my ears and I wished for… rougher.. words to be graced by it.

His thumb and fingers gripped my jaw, his palm pressed against my neck. He lifted my face and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.

"It seems.." he continued, his rich velvety baritone came softly "...that you might appreciate it if I were to speak to you in a way that many would consider.…indecent."

I took a shuddering breath, my mouth falling open. With just that simple incantation my body caved entirely to his spell, and I felt tingling heat spread through my belly.

What was happening??? Was this reality? Was Mr Duties and regulations coming on to me???

"What if I would? What would you do about that?" I whispered, testing the terrain.

"I'd certainly oblige." He replied, running his thumb across my bottom lip, "Anything to make you feel more at home."

"Just doing my job sir."

I was physically shaking with the need to grab hold of him."

"Anything to keep you in peak condition".

Oh God, that was terrible. I didn't dare speak anymore, afraid at how quickly my capacity for structured thought was deteriorating.

I lept at him, pressing hungry lips to his, getting a tight grip at his shoulders.

Rex palmed my ass and lifted me easily, sitting my down roughly on the exam table all the while fighting for my tongue. He positively devoured me, pulling my chest tight against his, bending me backwards to accommodate his height.

"How do you like to be touched?" He gasped between kisses thrusting a hand under my shirt and spreading it across my navel.

"I'll like anything you do to me. Just use me Rex." It came out like an order more than a request.

His lips quirked into a sly grin. He pulled my shirt over my head and quickly hooked my sports bra with his thumbs, dragging it up my arms. I expected it to be flung away as well, but at my elbows he made a deft twist of his wrist, and the garment tightened like a snare. One big hand pulled my arms backward, arching my torso so that my breasts stood up like lonely mountains before my chin. His opposite hand pressed to my rib cage, and crept around smoothly examining my flesh. He traced the bottoms of my breasts, then slowly closed over one as he watched my face. My jaw had dropped lower with each inch over movement and when his calloused thumb and forefinger teased my nipple to a harder pebble I loosed a groan. It was wanton and desperate and I knew he liked it because his smile showed his perfect teeth, right before they descended to the other breast.

I couldn't help it but my eyes rolled back in my head. The feeling of his lips nibbling my bud, his teeth pinching, and his rough tongue teasing, combined with the opposite hand massaging was enough to put me out of my mind entirely.

I uttered a deep moan as the heat of my lust spread through my veins. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my thighs shook a little with anticipation.

"Do you like being at my mercy?" He whispered against my soft skin, the hand at my elbows tightened my "bonds" with a small adjustment of his finger. "I could do whatever I want to you… and you'd have to just watch."

My eyes widened and I could feel my pupils dilate. I was eager to watch.

His hand slid down my hip, then thrust underneath me and gripped the waist of my breeches. He hauled them down my thighs, then ducked and hooked my knees over his shoulder.

"What if you aren't ready for me?" He whispered, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. He slid his free hand along the backs of my bare legs to where they met, tracing a finger along the fold of my sex.

I swallowed dryly, silently begging him to find out for himself.

He slipped two large fingers within me, exploring the spaces near my opening, then upward to gently stroke at my clit. The action pushed a desperate whimper past my lips, and I tilted backwards, reveling in his touch.

"No ma'am!" He chided, slapping me gently on the base of my rump. "You damn well better be paying attention, I don't appreciate being ignored."

He scowled, stepping away from my legs and hauling me roughly to my feet.

"Generally, when I catch a trooper drifting off I have to make an example."

I trembled at the thought of his "punishment".

He jerked at the twisted cloth that still held my arms, the other hand plastering me against him, his member pushing hard against my navel.

"Drop."

I stared at him defiantly. His eyes glared down into mine. Danger and raw power pooling in their depths

"On. Your. Knees."

I was defeated with little resistance. The command dripped with his dominance, and my weakness to it made itself known by conveniently running down my thigh.

"Yes sir," I rasped quietly. My mouth suddenly not dry anymore. He fucking new what I wanted.

He loosened his grip on my arms, allowing the garment to slide free as I lowered myself before him. I clasped his thick thighs and guided him to turn and lean against the exam table. I pulled up the top of his black body glove, tracing my tongue over his abs.

"Take it off," i whispered, "I want to look at you."

The captain obeyed, rolling his bare shoulders and flexing his physique for my benefit and the view was splendid! My hand roamed with my eyes, up his rippling torso as high as I could reach and back down again, tracing the bronzed curves and inspecting a few ragged scars. He was a man built to be physical, compact muscle and sinew, wrapped in bronzed silk. My hands found the arch of his hips and hooked the waistband of his skin tight pants. Pulling them down slowly my eyes greedily devoured the V-shaped muscles that pointed the way to my "punishment". He was already sporting a raging erection, and I was forced to unhook him from the elastic before I could peel it away further down his thighs.

His member arched upward before his belly, and without having touched him yet, I was already pretty confident that one of my hands couldn't close around him fully. By nature he was much darker than the rest of his skin, and his darker scrotum was drawn tightly, ready for work.

He tapped me on the forehead with the spongy head. "Hey!" I giggled, pushing him away.

"You're getting distracted down there! Get to it."

I cocked my head to the side, quirking an eyebrow up at him, keeping my eyes on his as I ran my tongue along his shaft, teasing at the vein underneath. He kept his face flat and stern, lips still pulled down in a scowl.

Still watching, I repeated the long lick, but this time closed my lips over his head, tracing circles within my mouth. He twitched, rolling his neck a bit, fighting to remain the dignified officer.

I allowed my saliva to gather in my mouth, promising him mentally that I was going to put that military rank right in its grave. Perhaps he didn't know that caf was only my second favorite thing to put in my mouth. His punishment was my forte.

My lips crept slowly down his shaft, my tongue spreading saliva the entire way, preparing him for my attentions. I stopped about half way, and repeated the motion a few times. Sucking lightly with each retreat. He fidgeted with his jaw a few times. My hands circled his hips and gripped his hard ass, pulling his pelvis forward, while he remained leaning against the table. Watching intently, I descended along his cock again, my eyes holding his as innocently as I could manage. His own widened the deeper I took him, his lips finally dropping open with a gasp as he slid in to my throat and my lips pressed to his bronze skin. I swallowed against him, my tongue flitting about and drew away, savoring the deep groan that I was pulling out of him.

Gotcha captain.

I quickened my pace, not taking him as deeply, but sucking with force each time, my fingers clamped around his hips, arched into claws. Holding him prisoner.

I would break away periodically, running my lips along the sides of his shaft, allowing his arousal to calm a little - no sense in hurrying him along. I wanted to savor this beautiful man.

His hand groped for my head, gently fisting my hair, the other finding my upper arm, kneeding and stroking as he drown in my touch.

"Ah.. ah...ah'd...ddd..ikka".. he stuttered through his passion, when I took him again in my mouth. "Can you go harder??... GAH!"

He threw himself back as I scrubbed over his head with my tongue, toying with the small opening there. "I love your touch, Dala, its so good! I want to move but I'm afraid I'll hurt you!"

I surged forward down his cock, tearing another moan from his throat. Pulling away with a wet slurp, I met his gaze.

"Well, do it then, sir. Aren't you the one punishing me?" I asked, stroking him firmly in my fist.

He grinned, combing back a few escaped locks of my hair and closing his fingers through them firmly. Sliding my closed hand to the base of his member, I chased it with my mouth, tensing my neck and shoulders, the other hand traveling along his thigh to stroke between his legs, caressing the tightened globes there.

I repeated the motion again and again, varying in force and intensity, as the Captain's breath grew more ragged. Pushing him well past his limits, he began thrusting back in to my face, struggling to temper himself and not knock me senseless. The fist holding my hair would occassionally forget itself, hauling me away or forcing me forward when the pleasure got the better of him. I moved with him, savoring the taste of his skin, the salty warmth of the pre-cum that I was pulling out of him, the thrill of pleasuring this man with my mouth and hands. I had been hungry for him. Positively ravenous. And devour him I did.

His moans were becoming louder and more frequent, with gasped praises and prayers flung from his lips at odd intervals.

I sucked harder and moved faster, fighting my way towards his release.

"Ngh!! Ad'ika! I'm close!" He cried. I met his eyes. "I want to… aagh!" he shuddered, loosing his train of thought momentarily. "I want to cum on your face!!!"

I couldn't very well nod, but unstead answered by putting my best effort in to the grand finale, tongue and mouth and hand working in unison to push him over the edge.

His lashes fluttered shut, his head dropping backwards, Rex thrust against my mouth, a noise building in his chest. He repeated the motion with me. Again. On the fourth roll of his hips a shout tore from his throat, and I felt his hot seed pour over my tongue. I pulled away, allowing thick ropes of his cum to land on my cheeks and lips, down my neck and chest.

I stroked his hips and thighs as he leaned back on his elbows, his climax rolling through him still. Sitting back on my heels, I simply enjoyed the sight, watching him in the afterglow of his release. He was still trembling, with the occasional violent shudder, breathing raggedly, his shaking hands kneeding at my wrists.

Eventually he lifted his head, fixing me with a bright eyed grin that made my insides positively twist.

"Damn woman, that was intense!" He gasped, pulling me to my feet. He admired his handiwork on my chest. Then, with an impish grin, he signed off near my collar bone with his index finger, satisfied I had been properly chastized.

"You ass!" I squealed dodging away.

Laughing, he grabbed me and pulled me over to the sink. We quickly cleaned up together, and he pulled my breeches away along with socks and clogs. Snaking an arm around my waist, he dipped the other hand between my thighs, which was in quite a state: stimulation to my mouth tended to make me a hot mess.

"Stars! Where is all of this coming from?" He nibbled at my lips, tasting himself in the process.

"I guess its my punishment for not paying attention", I cooed saucily. "I suppose I'll have to tend to that elsewhere."

"Perish the thought, Sugar." He fisted himself, working his member as he kissed me again. "Give me a moment and I'll be in top form…" his voice dropped into the low growl that rattled my insides, " then we can continue with your…. Reprimand .."

He scooped me up, and dropped me unceremoniously back on to the table, pushing his already firm cock against my opening.

"Your recovery time Rex, my God!" I gaped in wonder. He guided his member to my opening and sunk into me slowly, smiling at my low groan.

"I've told your superior I need you to help me purge old injury reports. Should take the entire rest of the day..." He exhaled slowly, enjoying the delicious friction where we were joined. "... and I've a laundry list of poor behavior that needs to be "disciplined" out of you"

#commander rex #captainaccidentlysexy #clone wars #goodhealthysmut #iliketousemy mouth #judgementfreezone #sexyfanfic

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litteidiot · 4 years

Note

Hello! For the requests, could you maybe do a Headcanon for how the boys (esp Victor) would react to an MC collapsing from overwork. Either in front of them or they find out from her colleagues and freak out accordingly 😅 if that’s not your cup of tea though no worries! I’m excited to read your work and see what other people request! ☺️

Hii! Thank you for being my first request I’m so exited to write it! And I think it’s a good headcanon to write about because I sometimes wonder how Mc can manage to keep going with so much work she gets from Victor and all those papers from her company. AND SORRY IF YOU GOT SO MANY NOTIFS I WAS FIXING TYPOS OMG

The boys reacting to MC collapsing from overwork

—————————————

Type: Headcanon

Attention! The characters are not mine credit to the Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice Team!

Warning: This might contain spoilers!

—————————————

Victor

“MC fainted, the ambulance is on the way !” Goldman literally kicked down the office door

Pen drops, caring less about the new investment, he was now out the LFG bulding on his way to you to the hospital

Homeboy left the bulding faster than Shaw’s lightning bolts

Victor is known as a calm and organized person

Well in this case he was nothing like that

Why you fainted? What happened? Are you okay? That’s what he could only think about

It might be just a faint but for him it was like the world collapsing

He lost you many years ago, and then found you again after pointless searching

He found his long lost tresure again

Life gave you two a second chance and will not let anything happen to you again. Not on his watch

A few red lights and speeding tickets later

After talking to one of the nurses he bolted through the door of your room, just to find you awake, but still dizzy

An IV was attached to your hand to give you the nutrituon you need

You turned your head to the door to see your clearly frigthened boyfriend and then see him relax when he made sure you are fine

“You are okay.” A reliefed sigh left his lips

You explain to him what happened and the reason you are here is becauae exhaustion. You will be fine after a well needed rest and when your blood sugar is fixed

He feels guilty.

Guilty for pushing you so hard and pressuring you with so much work even though it is for your own good

“Mc, we talked about this. When you feel it’s too much to you then tell me. I will try to delay your reports.”

After that now you only have one or two projects to do

He will frequently call you if you are okay, and will ask your permission if it’s okay to give you one more report

No overnight shift, he will come pick you up when your day is over

Sometimes you even beg for him to give you something to do because you bored out if your mind

Gavin

“Mc is in the hospital.” He gets the call from one of your co-worker

Trust me he is now on his way to you before someone can explain why you are even there

Loveland can be on fire, Black Swan can do whatever they want, your safety is his number one priority

This man’s heart beats for you, you are his life support. He will protect you whatever it takes

MC. MUST. PROTECCC.

He vowed to himself on that day he will look after you. You saved him from falling into the endless abyss and he will be forever grateful for you

And that vow never changed ever since

Stepping into your hospital room, seeing you laying there his heart skipped many beats

The worst scenarios and possibilities entered his mind

But when he saw you frown and then turn, realizing you are only sleeping every negative thoughts left his mind as fast as they came

He soon learned you are completely fine, just passed out from exhaustion. Everything will be just like the same after you rested

That night he was right beside you holding your hand

The only reason he could stay past visiting hours cuz he snuck in from the window

Kiro

Poor sunshine boy has no idea what happened to his Miss Chips

You were like fine when he left, now why you are not?

You had a new filming gig for Miracle Finder, a new episode about Kiro’s routine after filmimg and performing

“Stay right here Miss Chips! When I come back I’ll tell you everything you need to know! Wait for me!” That’s what he said when he left you in his dressing room

You know how long shootings can take, so while you wait for Kiro you take a nap

You have been tired lately because of the lack of sleep you have

You just didn’t expect with this nap your body will literally shut down

Now here you are in Kiro’s arms in the hospital because you just won’t wake up

Several hour later you find yourself in a hospital bed surrounded by colorful balloons and a huge stuffed bear

Kiro right next to you waiting for you to wake up

“Miss Chips you awake!” He cheered when he noticed you

“What happened?” You asked. You are swear to god you only laid down to sleep now why you are here?

Kiro explained you didn’t wake up when he came back and the doctor said you are possibly overworked and your body could’t take it

He then gave you tips and advices how can you keep youself fit and hydrated when you overwork because he knows it so well how tiring work can be

He will call you every time to remind you to take a rest

Will invite you to have a meal with him to take you away from work for a little

Lucien

He is literally a doctor c’mon

He knows you always go home late. He hears your keys jingling when you try to open your apartment’s door

One night he hears you’re trying to open HIS door with YOUR keys

He opens it and then you literally fall into his arms

That’s it, MC out

He picks you up and carefully lays you on his bed and securly tucks you under the blankets

That night he spent his night on the couch

In the morning you find a thermost of hot herb tea on the nightstand

Just then you realize it’s not your bed you are in

You are still in your work clothes

You bolt out to the living room finding Lucien preparing a meal for both of you

“Slept well, Butterfly?” He asks you placing two plates on the dining table

Still confused he explains you tried to enter his home with your key and then end up passing out in his arms

He gives you tips how to keep yourself fresh and also teaches you some exercises how to loosen up your mucles after sitting in front of the computer for days

Be prepared to be teased by him for that for the rest of your life possibly called as “The loud burglar”

You can find more at the Collections section

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iamrealbuilder · 4 years

Text

Bill Buchalter interview

Bill Buchalter was a level designer for Sunstorm Interactive. He’s worked on 3 official add-on of Build Engine games: Cryptic Passage for Blood, Suckin’ Grits On Route 66 for Redneck Rampage, Caribbean Life for Duke Nukem 3D. Interview, November 2020: Corentin: Can you introduce yourself?

Bill Buchalter: My name is Bill Buchalter. I’m an avid gamer of all kinds – video games, board games, and especially tabletop RPGs. I’m currently a freelance writer for AAW Games (Adventure A Week Games) writing mini adventures for Dungeons & Dragons 5E. I live outside Indianapolis, IN with my wife Jane, our three kids, and our dog Roxi. When I’m not gaming, I also enjoy music, playing guitar, hiking, and camping.

C: With Sunstorm Interactive, you're credited for level design on Cryptic Passage, Caribbean Life and Route 66. How did you start working with Sunstorm and what do you remember from that time?

BB: In the mid 90’s, maybe around 1995 or 96, I was very into playing Duke Nukem 3D. Like most PC gamers at the time, I had played Castle Wolfenstein and Doom, and Duke Nukem just blew me away. Back in those days, when we played online, we would use a 3rd party program called KALI. You dialed up on your modem, logged onto the internet, and then used KALI as a portal to chat with other gamers and find someone to play with. The KALI software would then allow you to network together over the internet and play PVP matches. It was crude, and the lag could be horrible, but we didn’t know any better at the time and we loved it!

I remember I was in a B. Dalton bookstore in the mall one day (another relic of the 90’s that is long gone!) when I found a book called the “Duke Nukem 3D Level Design Handbook”. I was intrigued, and as I flipped through the pages it talked about a program on the Duke Nukem CD called Build, which allowed you to create your own levels. I had no idea Build existed, let alone how to use it. I bought the book and spent the next couple weeks diving into learning how to use Build. I was hooked!

Making my own maps quickly became an obsession. I would share them with my friends on KALI and I quickly earned a reputation for making user maps. I remember there was a map building competition, but I don’t recall who sponsored it. A guy named Robert Travis won the competition. When I saw his maps, I was blown away! His designs were so much more advanced than mine. He was using tricks I had never thought of to get lighting effects and set moods. I had to reach out to him to pick his brain.

Robert responded and we began talking and quickly figured out that we both lived in Indianapolis. He was working for Sunstorm at the time and invited me to come to their office to discuss level design. I met him there one evening, and he showed me some of the stuff he was working on. We ended up playing Duke all night on Sunstorm’s network with some of the other guys in the office. I was in heaven!

Robert introduced me to Anthony Campiti, the lead producer on Sunstorm’s next project – Cryptic Passage, an add-on for a Build engine game called Blood. They invited me to design some levels for the game and I jumped at the chance. Robert assigned me to design an opera house level and immediately I got pictures in my head of the theater scenes from Interview with a Vampire. I went home and worked furiously on designing the level. I was still rough, but with Robert’s help I tweaked things here and there and slowly learned his techniques. In the end I was really pleased with the level I’d designed. Robert and Anthony were happy too and asked me to design a second map specifically for deathmatch.

The next project Sunstorm was working on was Suckin’ Grits on Route 66, an add-on for another Build engine game called Redneck Rampage. Robert again asked if I’d like to be a part of that team and assigned me to build a truck stop level. Using a lot of the things I’d learned on Cryptic Passage, and the campy feel of the Redneck Rampage game, I had a lot of fun designing that level.

The last project I worked on for Sunstorm was Duke Nukem Caribbean Vacation. By this time Duke’s popularity was beginning to wane, and Quake was taking over. Robert was already starting to experiment and learn how to use the Quake engine. I was a new dad at the time (my first daughter had just been born) so unfortunately, I didn’t have the spare time to devote to learning a new engine. I barely had the time to design my level for Duke Caribbean, but I did manage to finish the casino level for that project. I do recall that Robert ended up going through in the end and changing a lot of the aspects of my level to fit the theme they had in mind. I remember being a bit disappointed and not really feeling like the level was “mine” because of so many of the changes. It was the last project I worked on for Sunstorm.

I kept in touch with Robert and Anthony for a while after that. They were branching out, working on other projects, and even trying to develop their own FPS game that I don’t think ever really got off the ground. Sunstorm was having the most success with their Deer Hunter line of games that at the time were selling well in Wal-Mart. Sadly, I eventually just lost touch with those guys.

I’m sure this is WAY more information than you were wanting (I’m a writer… I can’t help but go off the deep end!) but you dusted off some fond, old memories for me, so I apologize for walking so far down memory lane!

C: I see that you're still making maps, different kind of maps! This makes me wonder if maybe you were involved with W!Zone (a pack of maps for Warcraft 2 released by Sunstorm). Can you tell us a bit about that if possible?

BB: I didn’t have any hand in the W!Zone project for Sunstorm, but I loved the Warcraft series. As was common for many video gamers like me, who had roots in fantasy games like D&D, I played a lot of Warcraft and eventually got sucked into the world of MMOs with Ultima Online, Everquest, and World of Warcraft! If only I had back the time I sunk into those games!

These days I’m exclusively writing and designing for Dungeons and Dragons. I started about ten years ago writing for D&D Organized Play in a campaign called Living Forgotten Realms. I co-authored two adventures for that with my good friend, Michael Pearman, and authored a third adventure on my own. As you know from tracking me down via AAW Games, I’ve now authored six adventures for them, five of which are already published and one that is still in the works but should be released soon.

When I do manage to find time for video games, Diablo III is my game of choice these days. I’m looking forward to Season 22 starting here shortly, and like many others, I’m really hoping for something great with Diablo IV. I’ve been a huge fan of the series since the beginning, and even wrote an entire campaign for D&D 5E that translated the story of Diablo III into Dungeons and Dragons for the players in my home game! Thanks again for the opportunity to share some of this history. It was fun putting it all down and reliving those days!

C: There are two signatures in the Truck Stop level for Route 66. Do you remember anything about that ? There also several levels with no known credit : Fun Park, House of ill Repute, Mystery Dino Cave, Bigfoot Convention.

The signature on the truck stop is Route 66 was a joke! I was the only designer on that one. I just signed it "Billy Joe Jim Bob Buchalter" as a joke for bad redneck name. I wasn't the kind of guy that had to sign my maps the EXACT same way every time. :)

Other than the truck stop, I don't recall designing any other maps for Route 66. I pretty sure none of those you listed below were mine, but I don't recall whose they were.

Finally, here are some final comments Bill made after reading through some forum posts:

Wow, I am really quite humbled that you guys looked so deeply into my work! The fact that you could recognize my build style is pretty cool - I didn't even know I had a style! LOL. The truth be told, the reason you probably had so much trouble telling my levels from Robert's is because he was a big influence on me. I learned a lot from him and incorporated a lot of that into the stuff I built.

Its funny how reading through that thread you linked brought back memories... I remember now that my biggest disappointment from Duke Caribbean was that my only level in the game ended up being a secret level - that some people wouldn't even find it or ever play it. I was actually pretty excited about that level. I was the one that suggested a casino because my folks had retired to Vegas, so I'd been in a lot of the casinos there and had some great ideas for the map. I'd forgotten all about the restaurant I worked into it, and the big fish tanks.

There seems to be some debate about Robert. From what I remember, he was a really good guy. Maybe a bit tough to work for, but only because he really strived for our designs to be the best they could be, and he demanded that of both himself and the other designers. As I said before, I learned early on to accept criticism and critique and not take it personally. It was just Robert doing his job. I'll be the first to admit that I designed better levels thanks to the stuff I learned from Robert.

Someone on the message board made a very astute comment, basically to the effect that "Bill had to have other work out there. Sunstorm wouldn't hire an unproven guy off the street." But truth be told, that's exactly what they did! I hadn't done a single thing before working there. But I think a few things played in my favor. First, I lived in Indy, just 15 minutes from their office, so it was easy for me to go in and work directly with Robert. Second, while I didn't have anything officially published, I did have a disk full of the maps I'd designed on my own, and Robert thought I showed promise. I would design at home a lot, then go into the office a couple times a week and sit with Robert while he critiqued my work and offered advice on how to improve it.

I'll be honest - I'm blown away at the number of people STILL playing these old maps we made so many years ago. I watched a couple YouTube videos of a guy playing and reviewing Duke Caribbean and Blood Cryptic Passage. His high praise of both Full House and the Opera House really made my day. It's nice to know that people enjoyed my work.

_____________________________

Thanks a lot to Bill Buchalter for taking the time to answer these questions! Thanks also for sharing... “Big City” !

A Duke Nukem 3D map he created back in the day before joining with Sunstorm Interactive which was never released before! Screenshot:

Map download:

https://msdn.duke4.net/bigcity.zip

______

External link: Duke4 forum blog megathread: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/11471-blog-interviews-of-build-engine-video-games-developers/page__pid__353013#entry353013 The forum posts Bill read, mentionned above, can be found here: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/9418-duke-caribbean-multiplayer-levels/

#build #build-engine #blood #duke nukem #redneck-rampage #duke #nukem #duke nukem 3D #video games #route 66 #caribbean life #cryptic passage

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tearsofthemis · 4 years

Text

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 6

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

youtube

▌ Location- Break room

(By the time Zuo Ran ended his phone call, the break room was empty. He picked up the intermediate lawyer examination prep guide that was left on the coffee table, and flipped through the notes that she took in the pages.)

Zuo Ran: “To find a partner, huh…”

(Zuo Ran put down the book, and sent out a voice memo.)

Zuo Ran: “Zhai Xing, in regards to your suggestion that I find a partner to reduce my workload. Do you have any recommendations?”

(His message was read, and replied to instantly.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “Depends on what kind of person you’re looking for. If there’s no one in Themis that catches your eye, I can hire someone.”

(Zuo Ran paused to think about his reply.)

Zuo Ran: “I don’t have high demands, as long as they’re upright, persevering, and won't succumb to authority. In regards to qualifications they should be comparable to me- no, forget that, as long as they’re qualified, there’s no need for them to be like me in terms of ability or temperament. What I need is a mirror, not an imitator.” (Zuo Ran rarely sends texts, let alone so many at once. There was no response from Zhai Xing.)

Zuo Ran: “I guess she can’t think of anyone suitable…” (Zhai Xing’s reply came at last, as Zuo Ran prepared to head back to his office.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “You call this, ‘not demanding’?! Wake up, Zuo Ran! Those qualified to be your mirror are far and few!” (After hearing Zhai Xing’s outburst, Zuo Ran sighed. He drew his attention back to the spread of exam books on the coffee table, and brushed his finger over the cover.)

Zuo Ran: “Far and few… you say…”

~~~

▌ Location- Commerce Avenue

(On our way to QingPing restaurant, XinRan and I coincidentally met up with Xia Yan, a good friend of mine that I lost contact with eight years ago.)

MC: “XinRan said she hired a detective, it must be you!”

(A bio-engineering honors student from Capital University, abandoned his career path as a scientist, only to return as a budding detective?!)

Xia Yan: “Of course. I don’t understand why you’re so shocked, doing detective work is my lifelong passion. I’m finally able to fulfill my dreams!”

MC: “That, is unexpected to say the least…”

Xia Yan: “Then the lawyer that Miss. Xue was looking for, that must be you. It looks like you also fulfilled your goal of attending Stellis University’s law school.” (I was still reeling from the information overload, and I couldn’t pay attention to what Xia Yan was saying.)

Xue XinYan: “That’s right, it’s her. I didn’t know you guys knew each other.” (XinRan looked at us, but chose not to press any further.)

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang lives on the second floor of the restaurant. He should be at home, let me call him down.” (XinRan went up and knocked on the door. I quickly composed myself, pulling my mind away from dwelling on our fateful encounter, but Xia Yan kept smiling, his eyes focused on me all the while.)

MC: “Why… do you keep looking at me?”

Xia Yan: “Even after so many years apart, you haven’t changed.”

MC: “That’s impossible, it’s been eight years, change is bound to happen. I mean, I’ve definitely grown taller.” Xia Yan: “But not in my eyes, you’ll always be my… Just like back when I was sixteen, exactly the same.” MC: “Must you speak so vaguely? Like you? Are you labeling me as a tomboy?”

Xia Yan: “No no...”

MC: “I was kidding, relax.”

(The restaurant door was opened by a man with snowy white hair. This must be Fang Yuan.)

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, I’ve already told you not to bother with the case. The health inspection team has already reached their verdict, there’s no point in investigating further.”

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, even if we must pay the settlement, we shouldn’t let those customers demand unrealistic charges. Look, I’ve found these two people that can help us.”

MC: “Hello, Mr. Fang. My name is-”

(I hesitated to finish my self introduction after I took in Fang Yuan’s exhausted state.)

MC: (Mr. Fang doesn’t look alright…)

~~~Investigation start!~~~

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s mouth]

AI:

“Ah, there, we can see his face clearer. But… Why are Grandpa Fang’s lips purple? According to the big data center, purple discoloration on the lips can be attributed to cardiovascular disease.”

[Select, “heart issues”]

MC: (Cyanosis present on the lip, should be a sign of his ailing heart condition.)

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s eyes]

MC: “He’s got pretty nasty dark circles. I bet he’s lost sleep over the incident in his restaurant.”

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s hand, select “bruising from IV”]

MC: (Did the countless IV drips leave behind such a deep bruise? A cardiac condition at Grandpa Fang’s age is serious and his health must have taken a big toll. I need to watch what I say when we interrogate him, it would be bad if we caused him emotional shock. It’s as XinRan said, Grandpa Fang is quite frail, and he looks tired. Considering the fact that he detests lawyers, I should hide my identity for now.)

AI: “It looks like you have come to your own conclusion, let’s finish this investigation.”

~~~Investigation end!~~~

MC: “I am PI Xia’s assistant, and this, is Mr. Xia Yan.” (Xia Yan did not react to my cover-up. Thankfully, he didn’t question it, either.)

Xia Yan: “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fang, my name is Xia Yan. My mother and father left this world when I was young, and if it weren’t for kindhearted people like yourself, there was no way I would’ve been able to attend university either. Ah, Miss Xue has informed me of your situation, and I admire what you have done out of the goodness of your heart. We’re here today because we would truly like to help. I sincerely ask for your permission to investigate your case, would that be alright?” (Perhaps it was Xia Yan’s convincing words, or his infectious and honest smile, that made Fang Yuan cave to his demand.)

Fang Yuan: “Let’s talk inside.” (As Mr.Fang let us inside, I purposely lagged behind so I could walk behind the group as any dutiful assistant would. Xia Yan leaned down and whispered by my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine as I blushed.)

Xia Yan: “You sure got into character quickly.”

MC: “I’m only pulling from the childhood experience of pretending to be your assistant when we played detective. It feels like muscle memory by now. But aren’t you curious as to why I chose to hide my identity?” Xia Yan: “Of course I am. But you have my trust, and that’s not something a little bit of time between us will change, right? I trust you.”

~~~

▌ Location- QingPing Restaurant

Xia Yan: “Mr, Fang, can you confirm that you were the one that accidentally mixed the powdered pesticide into the spring water?”

(Once we were seated in the restaurant, Xia Yan began questioning Mr. Fang. The questions that he asked were the exact same as the ones we asked XinRan back at the law firm.)

[Flashback]

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang said that he was the one who sprinkled the pesticide powder, and his poor eyesight is to blame for mistaking the water source. He wasn’t paying attention…”

Zuo Ran: “He claims he wasn’t paying attention, but afterward is so sure that it was caused by his misoperation. That’s a logical fallacy...”

[Flashback ends]

Fang Yuan: “It was me. Sigh, I’m getting old, and can't see or move around like I used to. I wasn’t careful…”

Xia Yan: “On the day of the incident, when was the spring water delivered to the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “The spring water is sourced from YunXia Mountain, and is usually delivered everyday around 6 AM.” Xia Yan: “After the water delivery, was there always someone present in the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “No, the restaurant was empty from 6 AM to 8 AM. The helper and I went out to purchase produce for today’s service. The waiter, Xiao Zhao, arrived at 9 AM…” (Fang Yuan’s sentence was cut short by a coughing fit, turning his face bright red with effort as he hacked.)

XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, are you alright?”

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, help me upstairs. My chest hurts, and I would like to rest…”

MC: “Mr. Fang, is it serious? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Fang Yuan: “No, that won’t be necessary. It’s an old condition, and I’ll be alright once I lie down and rest. The restaurant encompasses the entire first floor, feel free to check what you need. I use that computer there for bookkeeping, there’s no password on it. If you need to use it, be my guest. Although, it’s been two weeks since the incident. The restaurant is cleaned daily, and any leftover food or ingredients have been thrown away. I don’t know if investigating will help, I’m afraid.”

(We watched XinRan help Fang Yuan up the stairs. The moment they were out of earshot, I turned and whispered to Xia Yan.)

MC: “Mr. Fang’s attitude back there was a little strange. Hopefully we can find clues that they missed. The sooner we can crack the case, the better. But he’s been pessimistic from the start, emphasizing that the restaurant isn’t worth looking into. The way he answered your question was barely satisfactory.

Xia Yan: “The way I see it, he isn’t fully willing to cooperate with us, the reason why we weren’t denied earlier is because he didn’t want to seem suspicious. On the other hand, food poisoning caused by ingestion of pesticide itself is suspicious as well. Since the majority of pesticides available on the market are harmless to humans, why would Mr. Fang purchase anything dangerous for use in a restaurant?” MC: “We don’t have an answer for that either…”

-------

[Previous Part] | [Masterlist] | [Next Part]

-------

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #tears of themis trans #otome #otome game #zuo ran #xia yan #夏彦 #左然 #未定事件簿

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punkscowardschampions · 3 years

Text

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: [a phone number]

Ronnie: found you your own special plug

Joe: Can’t wait to get gang-raped by whoever this is

Joe: or maybe it’s a phishing scam, what route have you gone down 🤔

Ronnie: route of she can be your number 8 cos youre such a bike

Joe: it’s that kind of hook-up

Ronnie: pay for the gear if you cant get it up soft lad she looks fuck all like your ma

Ronnie: couldnt track down no more of her bastards for you soz

Joe: taking your role that seriously?

Joe: alright

Ronnie: getting out of it

Ronnie: she can babysit you

Joe: she probably lost custody of her own so

Joe: nice of you on all fronts

Ronnie: yeah

Joe: what, your dealer don’t like me or something

Ronnie: how the fuck would i know like

Ronnie: and how would he you legged it out of there soon as he showed

Joe: no shit I did

Ronnie: ordeals over now baby go cry to your new mammy about it

Joe: unlikely

Joe: but it ain’t my ordeal so

Ronnie: they ll swab & treat him he ll be sound

Joe: give a shit about him

Ronnie: if youve got something to say

Joe: I just said it

Joe: I don’t care about him

Ronnie: you dont care about me fuck off with your heroics

Joe: you didn’t want swooping up and saving, don’t mean I don’t give a fuck

Ronnie: your student loan aint gonna cover both our habits youd have me dopesick cause youre fucking jealous that means you dont

Joe: you’re jealous

Joe: and I said, didn’t stop you, didn’t say you had to

Joe: what’s fun about something oozing and itching in your pants, that’s all

Ronnie: of what

Joe: of every boring ex I have or will ever have

Ronnie: you wish

Ronnie: get em in a room together and they aint even jealous of each other

Joe: I know

Joe: x2

Ronnie: you dont know shit mckenna

Joe: so today I’m green

Joe: not the know-it-all smug college kid

Joe: nice to know how to play it

Ronnie: smug is right whenever i aint gonna suck your dick cause you can read music

Joe: that’s all that’s stopping you?

Ronnie: nah remember its the death wish attention whoring & mommy issues

Ronnie: cant both be functioning junkies youd have fuck all else to get a boner about

Joe: how long have you been doing heroin

Ronnie: youve got loads of catching up to do

Joe: yeah, so I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m being high and mighty

Joe: it’s literally been days

Ronnie: cause you are

Joe: no I’m not, just ‘cos I’d rather not suck dick when I have the funds

Joe: would you do it if you had the cash, that’s just stupid

Ronnie: youve been comparing me to any & every cunt since we met

Joe: like you don’t shit on me any and every chance you get

Joe: you were acting like them, the whole none of my shit is real because yours is SO real, that’s her whole bit

Ronnie: you cant stop fucking doing it even now fucks sake

Ronnie: i shit on you for you its not like i have any cunt to compare you to

Joe: alright, if you’re that sensitive about it

Joe: I’ll really stop

Joe: there 🤐

Ronnie: fuck you

Joe: nah, that was a dick move, alright

Joe: let me make it up to you

Ronnie: youre crying shes a patronising cunt guess what youre right there too

Joe: alright, I deserve that

Ronnie: drop dead

Ronnie: yeah its been days days of me giving you whatever the fuck you ask for

Joe: I know

Joe: so what do you want, seriously

Joe: I’ll do it, make it happen, whatever

Ronnie: like fuck can you make anything happen

Ronnie: youre like every other doss cunt i know theres your comparison

Joe: Probably am

Joe: but you’re the only person I’ve met who feels close to whatever the fuck I am

Joe: there’s the truth

Ronnie: whichever of your exes that worked on is more west than either of us

Joe: Oh I can easily be that dickhead and tell you how crazy they all were

Ronnie: go ed

Joe: the second to last one was the worst

Joe: full-on stalked and harassed the last one like, for no reason

Joe: she also messed with all my shit in a way she thought would send me into an OCD spiral because she didn’t get it

Joe: and when she started hooking up with some other kid she’d send me pics like I’d be 💔

Joe: that’s just after, that was all kind of amusing in a boring way, she was less amusing to be with but more mental

Ronnie: shouldve had some tips off her for the stalking bullshit its probably not too late to send her a dm

Ronnie: ones ive got from this is i dont have to bother learning the alphabet cos id be better off fucking with your record collection by smashing it up & child porn does fuck all for you

Joe: that is my thing, turning up uninvited to fuck everything up

Joe: she might go for it

Joe: exactly, both good to know, yeah 😏

Joe: all pretty basic and vanilla but still, annoying as shit

Ronnie: unless you can get me to do it for you yeah

Ronnie: dinners at what like 7

Joe: you’re gonna ruin my happy uni home?

Joe: oh no

Joe: be there be 7, eating at 8, apparently

Joe: time to ‘mingle’ as she put it which sounds suspicious af

Ronnie: fucking hell

Ronnie: thank christ i already hate you

Joe: saves times, energy less so

Joe: your mate is up for it, unless he’s a convincing liar, which I could see

Ronnie: what energy do you want name it theres gear thatll give us it

Ronnie: he is but i cant see the con shes got fuck all any cunt wants other than pasta shapes & mariahs likely on a diet

Joe: 🤤 and not over her appetizers, like

Joe: there’ll only be the 6 of us so we’ll need entertainment

Ronnie: lad flatmates bringing a bitch

Ronnie: shes gonna need something to get her through it or something she can use to end it

Joe: yeah he has a missus

Joe: even though him and Sophie belong together as the most average whitebread couple ever

Ronnie: make it happen then

Joe: where’s my bow and arrow

Joe: their 💘 ain’t my problem

Ronnie: you said you could do whatever and we needed entertainment

Ronnie: put all that money where your mouth is

Joe: you’re well sweet

Joe: you want her to be living her best life

Joe: dunno if I can hack being his shoulder to cry on in the interim

Ronnie: your teeth wont have time to rot before you choke on em talking to me like that

Joe: go on then

Ronnie: you owe me i dont owe you

Joe: I thought you’d ask for something better

Joe: but your loss

Ronnie: yours youre thinking about it

Joe: I get it, you want it to be hell living here

Ronnie: i dont wanna have to ask

Joe: for what

Ronnie: anything

Joe: why not

Ronnie: you think you can read my mind or some shit

Joe: I’d like to

Joe: and I think you get me, and yeah, I think I get you more than the bullshit mommy issues attention whore comment that was to get a reaction

Joe: I don’t think we’re twin flames just because we share some DNA, I’m not that kind of delusional, believe it or not

Ronnie: cause weve shared a needle though yeah

Joe: I get it, another kid with a habit, you’ve met hundreds

Joe: it is different though

Joe: tell me it isn’t

Ronnie: different cos its a habit you didnt have days ago

Joe: it’s not your fault

Joe: for good or bad

Joe: you didn’t spike me without asking

Ronnie: i didnt say that

Ronnie: i said thats why its different

Joe: yeah

Ronnie: nobody did any of this shit for me i dont know why im doing it for you

Joe: do you want to, or do you think you need to

Ronnie: what the fuck does it matter

Joe: you either fuck with me, you like fucking with me or you think you’ve got to protect me or some bollocks

Ronnie: protect you from the needle i stuck in your arm yeah that makes loads of sense

Joe: from getting a bad dose, being beat up by one of your dealers

Ronnie: i just wanted a front row seat

Ronnie: im not gonna get one when your family finds out

Joe: that’s fine by me

Joe: you reckon they’ll fly me home for an intervention then?

Joe: shouldn’t be surprising how oblivious they are

Ronnie: i dont care what they do to try & fix it youll be at rock bottom by then

Joe: they won’t try, they don’t

Joe: just because I weren’t shooting up doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing plenty other fucked shit for ages without it ever being a conversation

Joe: one of the kids that they took in, is a walking skeleton

Joe: can’t get her to eat, some reason don’t do anything but try to reason with her like she’s reasonable, never mind the rest

Ronnie: no shit they dont i was proof of it before you or her

Ronnie: in the same town with the same name she fucking gave me and still out of sight out of mind

Joe: precisely

Joe: so if you’re hoping fucking me up will get her to come about then you shouldn’t bother, honestly

Joe: save yourself that disappointment

Ronnie: it aint about her paying attention

Joe: good

Ronnie: you wanna know me i only want you to know what it feels like

Joe: then let’s do it

Ronnie: nah i was rem to reckon it was worth shit

Ronnie: it aint

Ronnie: you aint

Ronnie: youre never gonna have your head wrecked how mine is and i cant be arsed to put the time in fucking you up in the selfish special way i need when you keep pure loving it like

Joe: is that not indicative of how I’m already quite fucked enough

Joe: just because it’s not abandonment based

Joe: what normal cunt would love any of this, even contact you again after the first

Ronnie: fuck no

Ronnie: youre living your best life and it makes me wanna hang myself

Joe: Christ, you’re up yourself, aren’t you

Ronnie: &

Joe: you want me to roll my sleeves up again and show you the recent damage?

Ronnie: yeah

Joe: [pics]

Ronnie: [obvs gotta send him some back]

Joe: [a straight up new one like just did it]

Ronnie: [ofc she has to also like this is a competition]

Joe: [hope you started small so you have somewhere to go ‘cos the vibe]

Ronnie: [knowing y’all you didn’t but it won’t stop you and I will be forever on edge]

Joe: [so grim, don’t pass out]

Ronnie: [or end up needing stitches]

Joe: [probably do them yourselves, ick]

Joe: do you fucking get it yet

Ronnie: why do you care

Joe: why do you think

Ronnie: i keep telling you i dont

Joe: braindead sounds ideal

Ronnie: horse girl not about to suffocate you

Joe: she would if I let her, like

Joe: 🍈🍈

Ronnie: wait til theres a chance ill choke on my vomit next time christ

Joe: so lay back and I’ll tell you some more

Ronnie: ok go

Joe: [go on about Sophie in a way I shall not even bother but let us assume it is crude and rude af]

Ronnie: [we’re not into poor Soph but they clearly are]

Joe: [just fuck and get it out the way lads, so rude to everyone else rn]

Ronnie: [honestly, but hopefully at this dinner party because Jamie jealousy will be off the charts]

Joe: [Charlie gon have to keep quiet ‘til you home lmao]

Joe: Any luck?

Ronnie: got no pasta shapes in my system have i

Ronnie: but why the fuck are you not lurking to save me

Joe: you want me to swallow the bile for you then, okay

Joe: the last one looked deep

Ronnie: deep enough if you wanna pussy out and spit instead

Joe: I don’t

Joe: where are you

Ronnie: dorothys

Joe: he in?

Joe: if I have to show him it’s brotherly concern you’ll only die quicker

Ronnie: nosey cunt wouldve stopped me

Joe: Yeah

Joe: I can say sorry if you want or I can just come patch you up and not lie first

Ronnie: i dont need your help

Joe: I know

Joe: purely wanna save you for my own complex and to be loving life even harder

Ronnie: wank off about the sos from the other day thats it i cant top you carrying me out til the bleeding stops

Joe: I’m coming over

Joe: you’ve got time to lock the door if you really don’t want me to come in

Joe: can get my own shattered glass without breaking his windows

Ronnie: he must like you to have given you his address

Ronnie: but not enough to overshare the door dont lock cos i broke it 💔

Joe: or am I better stalker than you give credit

Joe: thanks for the tip, baby

Ronnie: youd have been waiting for me to get here not the other way round

Joe: You do want me to read your mind

Joe: maybe a lobotomy will help

Ronnie: hot

Ronnie: reading your mind you want me to pass out before you fuck me but its not that deep

Joe: the wound or the vIbEzzZ

Ronnie: this your coming out cos you sound like charlie

Joe: just trying to turn you off, don’t want blood to gush out

Ronnie: liar youd be made up to see that

Joe: not hiding in the bushes yet

Joe: slow down

Ronnie: youre used to being the big brother i get it

Joe: Something like that

Ronnie: i know how to ride a bike without stabilisers or whatever the fuck

Joe: and tie your shoes

Joe: it’s alright, we’ve established I’m not a paedo

Joe: what can’t you do then

Ronnie: err what a nonce would say

Ronnie: read music we also fucking established

Joe: you teach me how to shoot myself up, I’ll teach you how to

Ronnie: not a fair swap i dont need to learn how

Joe: You don’t wanna be a babysitter either, so you’ve said

Ronnie: you dont like me any more or what

Joe: Of course I do

Joe: You got me my own dealer first

Ronnie: you asked me to 1st

Joe: How did I?

Ronnie: what else is ? for a plug without giving a fuck if ive rattled myself into a ditch

Joe: If I talked to you as much as I felt like

Joe: You’d tell me to fuck off more than you already do

Joe: I’ve got no clue where the line is, how much you want me to care

Ronnie: what line

Ronnie: i dont want you to care

Joe: Tough shit

Joe: I didn’t ask you to get me a dealer

Ronnie: you fucking did

Joe: I just didn’t wanna see you suck dick on my behalf, alright, that’s all

Joe: what you do for yourself is your business

Ronnie: calm down nothing i do is for you

Joe: 👌

Ronnie: dont call her then

Joe: you on commission?

Ronnie: 🖕

Joe: If I do, you’ll still have to see me

Ronnie: youll see me bleed out on the kitchen floor 1st

Joe: You’re a pro, I know you’re being overly-dramatic

Ronnie: at opening as many veins as itll take to not have to see you again yeah

Joe: to make me hurry*

Joe: I’m on the tube

Joe: you have to live in the middle of nowhere

Ronnie: no fixed address i told you

Joe: ❗️

Joe: if there’s a break-up or a thruple, you can have the extra room

Joe: makes sense now

Ronnie: it dont make sense you reckon we can afford any extras however far out

Joe: like you said, she’ll get homesick and chuck it in even if Marc won’t dump his girlfriend

Ronnie: if she does youll be homeless too like unless his missus is gonna cover the costs of the en suite for you

Joe: you can have my room, it’s the smallest

Joe: they can have the en-suite palace and I’ll take theirs, which is not next to the others 👌

Ronnie: not that youve thought loads about it

Joe: if you heard her disney playlist everyday, you’d think about it as well

Ronnie: id think about killing her or myself not a cosy little bed swap

Ronnie: shed never hack living with me nor would you

Joe: well that thought is never far from the front of my mind

Joe: if you need the bed, you know it’s yours

Ronnie: get it through your head i need fuck all from you

Joe: yeah, yeah

Ronnie: theres this way of living when youre not inside your ma in every possible sense course you aint heard about it

Joe: you need to prove you’re self-sufficient ‘cos no one’s ever given a shit about you but Charlie and the other one

Joe: I’m aware you’ve made it to your old age without me, you’re alright

Ronnie: i need to be it the only proofs im not dead yet baby

Ronnie: you need me to be old cos im not in a fucking coma & you cant get it up else

Joe: I’d rather be in the coma myself but you can be too

Joe: not calling dibs

Ronnie: oldest gets 1st dibs

Joe: *until the youngest cries about it so much you get told to give in to shut ‘em up

Ronnie: try me

Joe: you know you can’t hack my crying

Joe: does your head in SO much

Ronnie: save it for when you need lube or horse girl is gonna be coming after you with the leftover glue so you can never fucking leave her

Joe: come at you with the needle and sew us together, babe

Joe: unlucky

Ronnie: more than unlucky if i cant bust a stitch open to be the dead girl you want

Joe: you’re the dead girl I want already come on

Ronnie: til i teach you how to 💉 yourself

Joe: nah

Ronnie: 💘

Joe: looking well deformed these days, my one

Ronnie: could cut it out know youd be made up for the matching needlework

Joe: you play mad professor I’ll play corpse

Ronnie: long as i dont have to play nice

Joe: know what you take me for, actually, but no

Joe: obviously not

Ronnie: cant take you anywhere even if i did wanna

Joe: god imagine the dent in your street cred, sis

Ronnie: if i could cry i obviously would

Joe: repression or fucked tear ducts from all the 😭 you been doing

Ronnie: what im that baby faced youre taking me for a newborn now

Joe: nah, mr i don’t fuck kids here, remember

Joe: plus kids are always calling 999 by mistake and they’d get there before me

Joe: maybe, depends how many people have stabbed other people today

Ronnie: id have got the numbers up but ive been busy like

Joe: gotta make time for you, babes

Joe: it’s called self-care

Ronnie: ask me what with

Ronnie: shittest stalker ever you are

Joe: go on

Joe: school us

Ronnie: cant cry cos when i was linking you with a plug you dont want i was getting myself linked with your meds

Ronnie: best guess as a better stalker than you & less basic white girl than your crazy ex

Joe: 💡 fairplay

Joe: won’t tell you any other side-affects, see if you can guess ‘em right

Ronnie: i wasnt gonna take em but you want me to get you so bad

Joe: yeah misunderstood white boy is selling less these days

Joe: help a brother out

Ronnie: fuck all has happened so i probably cant

Joe: 💔 oh well

Joe: they’re nothing exciting, even though I managed to get the highest dosage they’ll do

Ronnie: maybe mines off for not giving you the benefit of the doubt when i could continue reckoning youre such a pussy

Joe: you’ll forget by tomorrow, no problem

Ronnie: neither brother is gonna let me if they walk in on me microdosing theyll reckon its a getting well party and get the deccies out

Joe: only so many times you can just kidding that ‘fore it gets old

Joe: we’ll go out, when I get there

Ronnie: where you kidnapping me to baby

Joe: I know enough to know it’s all wrong turns and blindfolds, not giving you a map

Ronnie: if its a&e no cunts finding your body even with a map

Joe: piss off

Ronnie: give us a clue

Joe: I’ll mark it with an X if you do me

Ronnie: if you ever fucking get here

Joe: if we were sewn together this wouldn’t be a problem

Ronnie: wanting to look like twins so nobodyll give a shit that you wanna fuck me would be something youd think about on the tube mckenna

Joe: they run in my old man’s DNA so have to look for those bastards instead

Joe: all I know about hers is addiction

Ronnie: course he does fuck alls your own idea

Ronnie: if hes got a sister even a meff nancy drew like youll be able to find bastards they had together

Joe: loads, Catholic, remember

Joe: twins kid is black though so process of elimination

Ronnie: cute how that runs in your family too like

Joe: guess so

Joe: not like it’s that crazy a concept

Ronnie: not like youve ever met an irish catholic who werent a saint yeah

Joe: it’s a fucked place to live

Joe: really third world in that respect

Ronnie: your real da is who you wanna look for if hes got no bastards going about its cos he cant knock anyone up

Joe: that your all men are pigs stance

Joe: alright courtney calm down

Joe: I’m out now anyway, don’t need a real mum or dad to come rescue us from the priests and that

Ronnie: nah its a fact unless his twin kept going up the backstreet or he was only sticking it in her other 2 holes

Joe: they didn’t really grow up together

Joe: he left when he was 15

Joe: maybe she was a late bloomer, happy days

Ronnie: 💔 your ma wasn’t then i wouldnt be here

Joe: no dig about how you’re dying now anyway ‘cos I’m taking so long?

Joe: you must be fading fast and not just being a dramatic bitch

Joe: good thing I’m in [wherever we ended up locating y’all] now

Ronnie: shut up i said its not that deep

Ronnie: youre the dramatic bitch legging it here for a fucking scratch

Joe: you wanted me to

Ronnie: you want to i dont give a shit

Joe: right, that’s what I meant

Ronnie: you can stop with the gay shit i told you hes not here

Joe: gays don’t own sarcasm

Ronnie: they own getting attached to cunts fast who dont care

Joe: awh, you being replaced rn?

Ronnie: horse girl wishes

Joe: Can’t catch a break or a man that one

Ronnie: after a pity fuck with you who knows what shed catch

Joe: you wanna infect her by-proxy, you’re so blatant

Ronnie: i shouldve got you to bring her my bloods everywhere

Joe: adding her puke to the mix would make it interesting, sure

Joe: bet she knows first aid

Ronnie: if youre too pussy to break my ribs yourself get back on the tube

Joe: threaten me with a good time

Ronnie: i just did

Joe: without meaning it, yeah

Ronnie: try and hurt me i mean it

Joe: [why do y’all always set the tension so high lads lmao, we know but]

Ronnie: [me and my boo here like calm down you can’t hook up yet but they are both like !!!!]

Joe: [shouldn’t have let you get on that train sir but you would so]

Ronnie: [I shouldn’t let her open her mouth ever but here we are]

Joe: [forreal lmao]

Ronnie: [gotta draw an x on him in her blood when he shows up before we can do a more permanent one however we are either as a scar or tattoo so soz for increasing the tension even more lol]

Joe: [just got to stare at her for ages and then shove her away very dramatically ‘cos you can’t, head through to whichever room she was bleeding in to assess/gawp at]

Ronnie: [she’s gotta lol like well if that’s the best you can do at trying to hurt me I’m not worried]

Joe: [‘whaddya use?’ and just going through this flat as if you’ve been here before/were invited by anyone but Ronnie vaguely because manners can’t matter when we’ve gone this far already]

Ronnie: ['what, you didn't

touch yourself enough on the tube?' but we are obvs showing him whatever we did use because it's just another way to flirt and we can use it to make that x happen so]

Joe: [shakes head ‘spill too much and they emergency stop’ and a look like do I look like I wanna be on a psychward but in a 😏 don’t answer that way, doing our own tallies with it, of course]

Ronnie: ['we're walking then' like where are you taking me don't get comfy bitch]

Joe: [little disbelieving lol like excuse me princess ‘your carriage was unavailable’

Ronnie: ['no shit the horse is dead busy']

Joe: [‘I ain’t taking you to a stable’]

Ronnie: ['that's where we ain't going, now tell me where the fuck we are' because we're like an excited kid about this]

Joe: [it’s cute and we clearly think so even if we’re distracting ourselves with this self-harm so we don’t go too far, unrelated but I haven’t thought where yous are going lmao but I’m vibing something London but something she wouldn’t have done, something music related, also if it has like, kid vibes, bonus, I’ll have to look so just keeping tight-lipped to be annoying and surveying the bloody carnage he’s now added to ‘you want to clean up?’]

Ronnie: [it'd be cute if there was something like thinktank but for music instead of science but idk if that exists anyways in answer to that question she's just gonna remove her top or whatever like yeah it do have blood on even though we know that's not what he means because we're still in a flirty mood despite how annoying his non reply is]

Joe: [that’s what I’m vibing but likewise have no idea, I’m sure there is shit though and you could find it Joseph, anyway, truly the this is fine meme about that ‘cos you can’t turn away 😳 but also boy don’t, moving like you’re gonna come close to her though]

Ronnie: [soz Charlie cos she shamelessly threw her top on the floor and isn't gonna clean up any of this blood even on herself like I literally should say she goes to the sink and then to get clean clothes but instead we all know she's just gonna take Joe's jacket or whatever and put that on, thank god he's all about the layers]

Joe: [god bless the grunge

aesthetic, ‘do you do it in front of him?’ and touching the cuts that are still showing ‘cos you know there’s some still, and it is like when and where do you do this when you do not have a room lmao]

Ronnie: ['yeah' leaving it up to him whether he wants to think it's in an attention whore way cos we're still annoyed at that call out lol but realistically it's just because of how long they've known each other and how they be living, she's not actively trying to upset Charlie that much most of the time]

Joe: [‘does he do it?’ ‘cos we can’t imagine it from the little we know but also can’t imagine him just chilling if he isn’t as fucked as them]

Ronnie: [the facial expression equivalent of his amused lol earlier because no]

Joe: [dropping it even though you find this odd like don’t worry boy, the tea is he is getting over it and wanting her to stop, pulling the jacket sleeve to take her out the door like come on]

Ronnie: ['he knows what'll happen if he tries to stop me' cos you can't tell me that when they were younger he didn't do exactly that and she went ballistic but more importantly HOW DARE YOU BOO because that is 1000% a Fraze move and I'm dead]

Joe: [yes I thought it was legit for a parallel, enjoy the long trip back to central guys]

Ronnie: [idk how we are gonna stop you hooking up to fill the time other than the other people in close proximity lol]

Joe: [maybe a uni/work obligation can come in and he has to go like legit ‘cos that’d kill this off]

Ronnie: [personally devastated that means an iou for this cute date but I love how fuming she would be at never finding out where they were going]

Ronnie: [not to mention the not at all casual and public domestic they’d have would be such a fat mood and show she cares when she’s literally like umm what the fuck do you mean you’re leaving]

Joe: [love how blatant we both are individually]

Ronnie: [hard same]

Joe: They sprung that rehearsal on us last minute

Joe: I already said, I’d give you the funds and you could go do whatever

Ronnie: and i told you to go fuck yourself

Ronnie: or your cello

Joe: I wouldn’t have wasted my time let alone yours if I knew that was gonna happen

Joe: how would you go about fucking a cello, exactly

Ronnie: waste more of your own time figuring it out its your raging hard on for it

Joe: I can’t not go

Joe: they make you sign a bloodoath when you get in basically

Joe: no excuses

Ronnie: youd have found an excuse fast enough if id stuck a needle in your arm

Joe: no, I wouldn’t, ‘cos it wasn’t an option

Joe: there was already enough damage to hide

Ronnie: i dont give a shit what options youve got

Joe: right, tell it to the crowd that amassed, they might believe you a tiny bit more than I do

Joe: I’ll make it up to you, okay

Ronnie: thats what soft cunts wanna hear when you cant hide no more & since you reckon you wont be getting forced into treatment you get to keep your gob shut for all that being sorry bullshit

Joe: make it into something it ain’t ‘cos you can’t hack hearing it

Ronnie: i dont wanna hear from you end of

Joe: alright

Joe: see you around then

Ronnie: 🖕

1 note · View note

veiledpeaches · 4 years

Text

chance encounters | part v: in a parallel universe we could have been something

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 5.9k

for @donsjae, who always reminds me to prioritize myself and my health. thank you for our conversation that day, and thank God for you <3

GIF originally posted by @lukhei

Most relationships, whether familial, friendly or romantic, are built on shared passions or a sense of connection, but the relationship lasts because of an understanding of limits - the implicit understanding that no matter how close, there are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. At times, this reasoning extends to the belief that every individual has personal land mines, and it is not until we are covered in cinders, splinters and snow-like ashes, that we recognize the propensity for that person to explode catastrophically.

It has never occurred to Haewon that there could be such a line to be crossed between her and Johnny, until he presses her up against the sink and covers her lips with his own.

Almost as quickly as he kisses her, Johnny pulls apart, his eyes wide.

She takes in his striking brown eyes, the strong line of his jaw that sets, an uneasy laugh escaping from her lips.

“You know, no one really appreciates pity kisses.”

Johnny relaxes, taking a deep breath. His eyes softens, never leaving her face.

“This isn’t pity.”

“Johnny, what are you doing?” She stops him before he leans in again, panic arresting her chest as she watches his face fall.

“I’m sorry.” He averts his eyes, the warmth of his arms retracted as he steps away from her.

“W-What… Why…”

“I don’t know! I mean… Look, I know you and Doyoung are like, great…”

Her mind is whirling at a mile a minute. “Isn’t that what you were rooting for just yesterday?”

“I know, I know, I just!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, refusing to look at her as he keeps talking, “I can’t help but think, I mean, I… Won’t we be good together?”

Her heart sinks. “Johnny, you just broke up days ago. You’re not thinking straight.”

“No,” he shakes his head, still not looking at her as he swallows, “This isn’t what you’re thinking of. I have been thinking about it for a while-”

“Stop,” her voice straddles the line between a whisper and a shout as she turns away from him, her hands gripping the countertop even tighter this time, but for a completely different reason. “Please, don’t. Please.”

She hears him take a step closer, his finger gently meeting the back of her arm and trailing downwards, almost nostalgically. At his touch, she finds the knot in her stomach letting, and she doesn’t have enough energy left in her to pull away.

She doesn’t want to pull away. This is her friend, this is what they are, have always been. This wasn’t the way the story should’ve been written.

“Is it Doyoung?”

God, Doyoung.

She shakes her head, affixing her gaze on a small stain on the countertop that had never been really cleaned off properly through the years.

If you leave a stain uncleaned for too long, her mother used to tell her, someday it’ll become permanent. And then the more you wipe at it, the more it stares right back at you.

“It’s not Doyoung,” she forces herself to speak again, turning around to face him.

“It’s us.”

She watches his face as he bites his trembling lip, his eyes two abysses she could not fall into.

“You’re the closest friend I have-”

“You mean to say,” his voice is wobbly as he speaks, “you’ve never considered this before? Ever?”

This time, it’s her jaw that quavers.

To say yes would be misleading, but to say no and shut that down completely would be untruthful. Once, many years ago, when she’d just arrived in Seoul, there was a time where Haewon contemplated pursuing something that could bloom between them. But as quickly as that thought had come, it had been just as quickly displaced with another thought - louder and more fervent than the first - ‘he’s all you have here’. The circumstances that had made her move had been less than ideal, and to repeat the same mistake with another man - a man as brilliant as Johnny - would be unthinkable.

As even more time had passed, when notions of “type” and “meant to be” had entered their conversations, the vast differences in their approach to dating and relationships had made anything potentially happening between them simply unimaginable, and she had gently scoffed at her earlier consideration, burying it in the deepest recesses of her mind.

Until now.

“If you can’t answer that… Maybe the absence of an answer is an answer in itself.”

She shakes her head even harder, taking his hands in hers and urging him to look at her, her gaze chasing after his, “Johnny, I can’t lose you. Not you. You know I love you-”

Johnny finally looks up, tears shining in his eyes but the look on his face is defiant, almost angry. “Don’t do that.”

“I can’t lose you, Johnny, you’re all I have here. Could you possibly understand?”

He drops her hands as if he has just been burned, stepping away from her completely as he walks away wordlessly, his tall body growing smaller and smaller as he walks down the bedroom corridor, the gravity of their situation reverberating even after he had shut the door and she could no longer see him.

Johnny has not left his room since this morning, and Haewon has not stopped worrying. It isn’t like Johnny to hide himself away when things happen, because he is the kind of person who wants to talk about everything. She remembers how their three-hour heartfelt conversation had gone when Aoi had broken up with him, the way he had tirelessly listed every single part of her he would miss.

Squatting in front of his room door, she slips a note under the door, seconds before the door is flung open and there he stands, in his six-feet tall glory towering over her crouched figure, looking sort of judgmental.

The ink on the paper that reads “I made all your favorites for lunch!!!” suddenly seems gaudier than usual, and she has half a mind to snatch it back and shred it.

He looks at the paper. “What are we, fifth graders?”

She pulls her lips into a straight line, shaking her head without looking at him.

“Don’t be weird.” Johnny says petulantly, pulling her up from her position on the floor.

“You’re weird.”

“You cried.” His voice remains almost factual, but still slightly hoarse.

“So? You cried too.”

“Yeah but I cry suitably, like a healthy, emotionally-thriving person. You never cry.” He says, but he doesn’t argue further. This is the first time he has seen her with bloodshot eyes, and he is lying if he says it does not clench his heart. Further, to be the cause of that expression has never been a fantasy of his, but he holds these thoughts in his head, taking a seat at the dining table and starting to eat like nothing has happened.

Haewon wipes her eyes with the back of her hand quickly and takes her seat.

“For the record, I’m not hurt.” He pipes, gesturing with his chopsticks, “I expected it. And I’m thirty-two years old, so don't treat me like glass.”

She nods, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Her mind flashes back to the sight of a teary-eyed Johnny when the girl from Haewon’s gym had told him that she just wanted to be friends after two dates, but she lets it slide.

He licks his lips, “I was just being dramatic… You know, the usual.”

There are so many girls out there, Johnny will start dating again in no time, she thinks. Then all of this would be forgotten and he would feel much better. Despite knowing Johnny would be fine, that it is not likely that his feelings had become that deep over such a short period of time, she finds herself reaching forward to hold his fingers in her hand.

Johnny’s eyes land on their entwined fingers for a moment, before he balances his chopsticks on his bowl and holds her hand in a tighter grasp.

He sighs emphatically. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m okay. It’s not the end of the world. I’ve been rejected before, it’s nothing new. And just so you know, I didn’t cry because I was rejected, I just… I felt like I screwed up what we had.”

She starts to shake her head, but Johnny continues, “Just know that, it’s all good. By tomorrow I’ll be completely fine, okay?”

Her bottom lip is still under her teeth when she nods, so Johnny ruffles her hair comfortingly.

“Anyway, since you rejected me and made me all cry-ey…”

Haewon’s eyes widen.

But Johnny’s expression is sheepish, “can I exploit your pity and make you cook dinner too?”

This draws a laugh from her, “of course.”

True to his word, the next morning and then for the next two months, Johnny does not raise the subject anymore. Everything slows down back into a routine again, and Haewon is relieved to know that the rapport between them remains more or less the same. Johnny still goes on dates, still works hard on everyday except Friday, and tries to be okay around her. Haewon focuses on preparing for her move to the states, continues to feel things for her former boss, and tries to show Johnny that everything is okay.

As for Doyoung, conversations with him are few and far less, with most of them skirting around the same issues; their work, him being a workaholic and her hardly planned departure. They don’t talk feelings, don’t talk about the unspoken agreement that had latched another perforated layer to their relationship.

There is no need for deeper conversation, not when Haewon is leaving in two months, and especially not when there is more to be risked and lost.

So Haewon finds herself dreading the possibility of running into Doyoung as the ‘ding’ sound of the lift is heard at the twelfth floor, the papers in her hand slightly crinkled from her tight grip. DAM-IL PUBLISHING CO. flashes in her periphery as she scans her temporary access card from the guard house, making a beeline for Jeno’s desk.

It’s nine o’clock, so no one with any semblance of a life would be caught dead in the office, but Haewon cannot say she is surprised when she catches the faint glow of Doyoung’s desk lamp beyond the translucent glass, allowing her gaze to fall on the silhouette on the chair.

For more than three years, walking into the office to be greeted with this sight… Perhaps this is one of the things she would miss most about being here, the simultaneous rush of excitement and sense of comfort she would feel when their eyes met through the glass.

“Haewon?” She hears his voice and freezes, before giving up and walking into his inner office.

Doyoung’s tie is lying on his desk next to a pile of papers, his dress shirt is slightly unbuttoned and his head is against the headrest of the chair as he looks up at her when she enters, exhaustion making his eyelids seem heavier than usual.

“Boss, it’s late, what’re you doing here?”

“Just looking through some stuff.”

Haewon’s eyes gloss over the papers, immediately recognizing the familiar scrawl on the yellow post-it stuck at the top.

“These are... This is my work.” She frowns. “I thought I handed it over to Jeno.”

Doyoung’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I thought I should look over it too. I... I didn’t realise how reliant I had become, on you.”

Their eyes meet for a moment, before Haewon coughs and looks away.

“Do you need anything?”

She gestures vaguely towards the outside of his office. “I just came to get some things I left here, on Jeno’s desk.”

“How’s the preparation coming along?”

“Logistically? All good. Saying goodbye?” She shrugs, “pretty damn hard.”

Doyoung laughs heartily, his short, breathy laughs faintly reminiscent of arpeggios in staccato.

“I understand, leaving is the hardest thing.”

Haewon smiles, but she cannot concur. She had spent her teen years in four different states due to various reasons until her family finally settled back in Chicago again. She has found a familiarity in disappearing, the safety in belonging to nothing and nowhere, never being comfortable to stay for long. And with all the traveling she’s done her whole life, even state lines blur. Roads meander similarly and street signs just read differently but in the same font. Sunset views start to converge with each other and in the end, they are all the same.

That’s why moving halfway across the world - a decision that would have taken someone else an indefinite amount of time to decide - had not fazed her. Given a job and a life open for her in Seoul, why wouldn’t she be open to it, when she had pretty much been living her life the same way, taking any opportunity to pull the brakes and reverse out of the situation once she has hit the end of the road?

Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was just so damned hard.

“Anyway,” Doyoung says after a while, drawing her out of her reverie, “take your time, I’ll be here for a while.”

Nodding, she returns to the desk, pulling a manila envelope and some congratulatory cards she had received from past clients from the bottom drawer, where Jeno said he would leave them.

Flipping through the documents in the envelope, Haewon misses the way his gaze lingers on her shoulders from inside his office, misses the way he gets out of his seat after a minute, misses the way he strides quietly but resolutely towards her turned back, but doesn’t miss the way he wraps his arms around her, his lips just behind her ear.

Whether he knows this well or not, Doyoung has an unquestionable talent for rendering Haewon speechless.

“Boss—”

“Don’t say anything. Please.” Doyoung’s voice is soft and sounds even lower than it usually is, as he holds her even more tightly in his arms.

She feels the familiar prick of tears in her eyes, but swallows them back with the knot in her throat. It’s not that she doesn’t know that on some level, she has an effect on him. But that effect — and the extent of it — remains unaddressed, and Haewon has taught herself not to cling on to any shred of hope.

Her fingers find their grasp on his forearms as she relaxes and listens to his soft breathing, letting her heartbeat slow down into the same rhythm as his now. Save for the sympathetic whirring of the air-conditioner, the room is completely quiet, and it is only now that Haewon allows herself to revel in the silence, in the arms of the man she is held by. With the press of his arms around his waist and his heartbeat against her back, it feels like they can almost believe that the impending dates and unyielding timeline of their relationship momentarily cease to exist.

But as he nuzzles his face into the place where her shoulder and neck meet, Haewon realizes that even the best show comes to an end, and the curtains will fall eventually. Because no matter how big a step this is for Doyoung, it would never be enough for her.

There’s a familiarity in disappearing, and maybe the silence is what Doyoung needs right now, but Haewon can’t wait forever if there isn’t an end in sight. For a few months after her confession, she had thought that she would be fine with letting her questions find a space in the vast proverbial grey area, but she knows now that it is no longer an answer she can accept.

And if Doyoung had said something, anything, Haewon wouldn’t think twice about hanging up her running shoes to build a home in his arms.

“I told you people would come,” Johnny smirks, taking the marinated meat out of the freezer. “Free food, free booze - anyone would come.”

It’s the night before Haewon’s departure, and Johnny had organized a small farewell party with her closer co-workers at the last minute. They had made a bet that very few people would turn up given the eleventh hour invitations, but somehow Johnny had managed to convince most of them.

“They’re too nice to say no,” Haewon says, bringing the food to the barbecue grill at the balcony, smiling at Kim Jungwoo and Lee Donghyuck entering the apartment with a bottle of wine.

There’s tipsy chatter from her former colleagues all around her, as Lauv sings about getting what you give and giving what you get in the background. A smiling Jeno offers to start the barbeque, and Haewon’s about to thank him when she hears someone shouting from across the apartment jokingly, “Hey! Who invited the boss to the party?”

Doyoung’s still in his usual work suit, but somehow looks softer than usual, his fringe sweeping across his forehead, looking all sorts of handsome. His eyes are tired but amused as he lifts his eyebrows comically upon seeing Haewon’s slightly agape mouth.

“Doyoung!”

From the corner of her eye, she finds Johnny standing right next to her with a wide smile on his face, Jeno suddenly nowhere to be found.

Haewon turns towards him, “you invited Doyoung?”

“You were planning to have a farewell party without Doyoung?” Johnny frowns, replying in an equally hushed tone.

Haewon lets her eyes fall on the sizzling fire beneath the wire grill silently, the flames lapping excitedly at the charcoal, until the marinated slices of beef sits on it.

“I know stuff happened between you guys, but don’t you feel you owe each other a decent goodbye?”

“We have said our goodbyes.”

“On text? He wasn’t even there on your last week.”

Haewon hasn’t told Johnny about her encounter with Doyoung in the office a few nights ago, the way his jaw had settled on her shoulder, her skin still tingling from the warmth of his hug. It’s less about Johnny’s non-judgmental friendship compared to how there’s no express need to externalize her hopeful thoughts on an embrace that fell short of a promise.

It feels more like a scene in a movie than real life when Doyoung walks towards her in dramatic slow-motion and envelopes her in a hug, everyone at the party clapping and whopping. Haewon’s about to push away, when she realizes she has become so paranoid to the extent of not being able to recognize this simple greeting for what it is - a farewell, well-intentioned professional hug from a former supervisor to a former employee.

“Speech, boss, speech!” Lee Donghyuck’s voice is almost booming, closely followed by echoes of the same request.

Doyoung laughs, taking the glass of white wine Johnny offers timely.

“Okay, okay! So… Well, I’d like to start by saying that this farewell is, to me as I’m sure it is to all of you, bittersweet. Haewon has been with us for more than three years now, a huge testament to her patience given how ‘easy’ I am to work with,” he chuckles when he hears a joking ‘who let the cat out of the bag’ in the small crowd.

“I first met Haewon through a recommendation from a mutual friend - yes, Johnny, everyone knows it’s you - and I can’t be more thankful that I could make this decision for her to join us. She is a great asset to the team, an amazing creative artist and writer, and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for her.”

His eyes meet Haewon’s, and she doesn’t dare to look away.

“Haewon, I hope that nothing ever stands in the way of your dreams. I hope you’ll always have the courage and strength to do whatever you’re called to.”

The atmosphere now is almost still, and she can’t tell if her eyes are lying to her, or if his eyes are getting a little misty.

“So… Let’s raise our glasses to Haewon!”

There’s cheering and polite applause, but Haewon can’t concentrate on anything else as she watches Doyoung down all the contents of his glass and then smile as he exits her line of vision. Perhaps it’s now more clear than ever, Doyoung’s personal intentions behind those words, but as Haewon bites down the lump rising in her throat, raw and throbbing, she finds it difficult to continue believing in the power of believing, unsure of how much is real and how much has been conjured by the blindness of a scaffold, the scaffold of rose-tinted glasses.

“When the timing isn’t right, neither is the man.”

Haewon swivels around, meeting Yuta’s piteous gaze. It feels like something’s lodged in her throat again, and her voice cracks as she says, “y-you knew?”

“I’ve been sitting behind you for three years, Haewon. I could tell you loved writing more than all our work at the office, how could I not know you’re in love with him?”

Tears rush to her eyes, but even as she blinks them away it’s like there are seven Yuta’s looking indulgently at her.

“But you’re still so young, you need to experience the world…” He smiles, “‘so many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.’”

She chuckles tearfully, “Tennyson.”

“I’ve never been a fan, but he was the one who said, ‘’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’, which I think is fair.”

“I know you want him – enough that you’re even thinking of rescinding on the Brown offer. But you can’t put life on hold, Haewon, especially not for boss.”

Johnny would say he’s not the least surprised, but it’s unexpected to her that Doyoung outstays everyone - even Yuta, after a long conversation with him at the corner of their balcony. Haewon keeps herself busy, smiling as her ex-colleagues give her their last handshake and shoulder squeeze before they bid their final goodbyes with best wishes and promises to stay in touch.

It’s close to midnight and she’s almost done washing the dishes when she feels Doyoung’s fingers against her elbow.

His gaze is still on her elbow as she turns to face him.

“Can we go somewhere else to talk?”

It would be much later, before Haewon can bring herself to admit that she was entirely aware of what the outcome would be upon stepping into Doyoung’s car.

It’s not that she doesn’t know that on some level, she has a place in Doyoung’s head, if not his heart. The suppressed emotions all these years have better equipped her in presenting herself differently from how she feels, but the ability to pitch and hold two different sets of emotions doesn’t help her anymore now than it did pre-confession. Instead, in a self-induced, partially aware stupor, Haewon recognizes that she is less in a state of oscillation than she is in the state of desiring a reconciliation between two duelling thoughts - the voice that cries, “what if he wants to be with you?” and that which cries, “what if he does not?”

As for now, she just sits in the passenger seat, her hands and lap empty this time. It’s been almost ten minutes since Doyoung has reached their destination, the same place he had confessed to her about what had happened with Inhee. This time, the atmosphere is thicker than before, unexpressed implications heavy on their skin. The air has become a tad cooler than many nights before, and the lights on the bridge and over the water still remain. But this time, the road is a lot quieter, with no other headlights, not many streetlights - nothing that could have been mistaken for constellations.

This time, they do not leave the car. There’s no need for alcohol, for cigarettes, for anything that could be blamed for foolishness.

“Oh! Here,” Doyoung exclaims lightly, reaching to the backseat to grab something, which Haewon only recognizes as a book when it’s in her hands.

CHANCE ENCOUNTERS by CHO YOUNG-JUN, the book reads, with a picture of a cat on a ledge looking at the biggest moon Haewon has ever seen, a style so characteristic of Nakamoto Yuta that it brings a smile to Haewon’s face. She remembers how Cho Young Jun had insisted on the details of the visual, and how it had to look like a pencil sketch, a metaphor for how a life is never really finished even when someone else’s role in that life has, how everyone is a guest star on another person’s stage.

“He wanted you to have one of the first published copies,” Doyoung explains, “he said it was a pity that you couldn’t see it to the end, and that it would be a bigger pity if he couldn’t give one to you himself.”

“He’s a good kid,” she nods, “thank you. But how did you know I’d get into the car with you?”

Doyoung’s expression is abashed, “let’s just say I got lucky.”

She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Doyoung says finally, “truthfully, I couldn’t decide whether I should come or not.”

She laughs again, but it sounds more resigned than amused. “You didn’t wanna say goodbye to me?”

Doyoung falls completely silent, so silent that it forces Haewon to look at him as he speaks, “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

“Not you.”

She feels the tell-tale warmness in her eyes, but swallows and manages to collect herself as she turns away.

“Well you made it,” she says lamely.

“I had to,” she can feel his eyes on her face as his voice grows quieter but more insistent, “I had to see you one last time before you leave, or I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Because… You were wrong.”

“What?”

“You were wrong.” His eyes are twinkling as he speaks again, “when you said that my engagement wasn’t the only thing standing in the way of something happening between us.”

It feels like all the air has been robbed from her lungs once the words leave his lips, her eyes searching his face desperately for a sign that this is a joke, that he’s about to pull away like he has every time. But Doyoung is here, and under the lights in the car he’s unfamiliarly close, her eyes falling on the beautiful freckles on his cheeks and then the small scar at the corner of his mouth, before resting on his soft pink lips. This sudden and indisputable closeness seems to make all other distance irrelevant, and it is this closeness that she tries to concentrate on - not that it might be fleeting, a feeling she knows only too well - as Doyoung pulls her from across the console onto his lap and presses his lips against hers.

There is a recklessness to the way Doyoung kisses, a sense of abandon that has been concealed for too long. She feels it in the movement of his lips, in the firmness of his fingers against her jaw, in the way he pulls her even more tightly against him when her own fingers card through his hair before slipping down to settle on his nape. A stray tear escapes her eye, finding a place on his thumb and he kisses her even harder. Doyoung kisses the way he lives, sure and intentional and wanting to regret nothing, and even as his lips leave hers they travel across the line of her jaw and down her neck, giving everything he has and asking for nothing back.

But as soon as her arms wrap around his shoulders, Doyoung is pushing away again, his head shaking so vigorously that it brings tears to her eyes instantly.

“W-Why?”

His face contorts painfully as his lips close over the words, “you’re leaving tomorrow, we can’t do this.”

Her eyes are burning with tears, and it no longer fazes her as they slip from her eyes.

“Don’t make it sound like this is about me,” her voice is tight, “you were the one who held me first, at the office. And then those things you said, every single thing you’ve said since I tendered. And now, you kissed me first.”

“I know…” His eyes are sparkling with tears as well as he stills his trembling lip, “I’m sorry, Haewon. It kills me to see you like this.”

“You’re playing with me…”

Even as the words leave her, she knows how unfair they are.

“I’m not!” He shakes his head furiously, “I swear, I’m not. I would never do that to you.”

“It’s not about how you feel!” She isn’t shouting, but she might as well be, “It’s about how you act! You can’t say things like that without thinking, Doyoung, you know that I’m in love with you.”

Doyoung is as much of a mess as she is, his eyes red and his cheeks wet, and his voice has faded into a whisper when his mouth opens again, “but I can’t, Haewon, I can’t.”

At these words, she finds herself unable to speak, unable to do anything except to wait for him to continue.

“I can’t just run from the arms of one person into those of another. I can’t promise you anything or ask anything of you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Her eyelids feel heavier with every blink of the eye, distributed almost like a telephone line she can no longer connect. Giving up, she shuts her eyes, trying to hold more tears in and not let them escape.

It is only now that she realizes what would later seem obvious. That it doesn’t matter what she said, how carefully she crafted her arguments, even if she uses every tool of persuasion she has mastered over the years. There is only one thing that really matters, now and always, and this is it.

She’s leaving tomorrow, and he can’t give her anything. It wouldn’t be fair to him, because even if he has feelings for her, there are bigger things at large. And it’s this thought that she wrestles with - the weight of having too much of him, and yet, never enough. She’s leaving tomorrow, and it wouldn’t be fair to put another log on that fire.

For the longest time, her feelings have been hidden away, out of sight, forbidden and shameful. But even now, even when Doyoung is no longer engaged, no longer her superior and they are no longer surrounded by people, his love seems so out of reach.

Perhaps, it will always remain that way.

This is it, she thinks. But even with the heaviness that comes with finality, even as a fresh bout of tears come, she cannot be sure who she is crying for. For her weakness, for Doyoung’s brokenness, or perhaps, just for what they will miss.

“You know what you’re doing, right?”

She is brought out of her daze at once, Johnny’s words only registering seconds later. She looks at him for a moment, wondering how he could have known, belatedly realizing that he’s only talking about travel arrangements. Johnny had been in his room when she had reached home last night, to her relief. She definitely would not have wanted him to see her eyes bloated from crying.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She grins up at him, “I’ve been there before, I think I’ll manage. Besides, my Mom insisted on flying in to spend time with me before I start for real.”

Johnny nods thoughtfully, checking once more that she has her passport and air ticket.

“We’ve checked so many times, John,” she snatches her passport back almost childishly, “I’ll be fine, please don’t worry. Any last words?”

“I would say ‘I’ll miss you’, but you promised to come back every semester break.”

“That’s all?” Her jaw drops in mock betrayal.

Johnny laughs, his hands finding their place on her shoulder. “Is brevity not the soul of wit?”

She rolls her eyes and they smile at each other for a while, but then he catches her hopeful glances around, and his hands on her shoulders squeeze gently, his face turning serious.

“I don’t think he’s coming, Haewon-ah.”

There’s something within her that she cannot find a name for, but she is certain it isn’t just sadness, certain that it isn’t that devoid of regret and self-deprecation.

“It’s okay,” she releases a smile, unsure if she is comforting herself or Johnny. “Not all seeds were meant to grow into big trees anyway.”

Johnny sighs emphatically, “I’m sorry. I really thought something was going to happen when you left with him last night.”

Her mind flashes to the messes they made of each other last night, their bodies pressed against each other but their lives and futures already seven thousand miles apart. There is a place in my head that he will always inhabit, she thinks to herself, a place that no longer belongs to me, but I will learn to be okay with that.

She shrugs, “I know. But it’s just… We kept missing each other, you know? It was never the right time.”

He nods sympathetically, and then his expression changes at a certain memory.

“Listen Haewonnie, I wanted to… I wanted to apologize as well, before you go. What I did that morning was… stupid. Would you for-”

“Hey,” she pulls his hands into hers, “you don’t need to apologize for anything, John. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you know I love you, and you mean more to me than anyone else here.”

He nods again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Too bad for you. I’m somewhat of a catch.”

She laughs adoringly, smiling so wide with her eyes so warm. She knows he’s joking, but she also knows that if they were still in Chicago, if he hadn’t left all those years ago and Haewon hadn’t come to Seoul, it is conceivable that she would eventually fall in love with Johnny. His personality is so similar to the guys she dated back in America - only taller, more handsome and even brighter. And much, much better.

Johnny looks at her dotingly for a moment, before he opens his arms wide for her to step into his warm embrace. His palm closes gently over her ponytail, and she relaxes in his arms. This is Johnny, one of the only people in the world she trusts so wholeheartedly, and she knows how much he cherishes her, and how much she will miss him.

So she pulls him more tightly towards her, dreading the moment she would finally have to let go.

She’s halfway across the Pacific when she remembers the book Doyoung had given her the night before, oddly thankful that she has something to read on the way there. She tries to tune out the parent quietly admonishing their child about kicking people’s chairs on the plane, the rolling of the beverage cart and the old man mumbling behind her, as she flips the book open, eager to start.

Instead, she feels her heart swell impossibly, because written on the first page in penmanship that couldn’t be anyone’s but Doyoung’s, is a short line:

If my answer changes one day, would you still save me a seat?

w/n: i hope this longass update was worth the wait! was uncharacteristically busy with life these couple of weeks, hence the late drop. hope it’s ok! (yes i know i’m incredibly draggy, i’m a soap opera kind of girl.)

just one more part left!! would be really grateful if you could reblog this post if you enjoyed it!

COME SCREAM AT/WITH ME!! ask

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

Johnny Snapshots

@onereyofstarlight Okay, let’s face it, I live in the land of the Virg and John is one of the hardest for me to tackle (the other being Alan who I do a disservice to on a regular basis). So I don’t read much John focussed fic. Not that I don’t love the boi, it’s just...oooh, look a bright shiny Virg! :D

So in order to get Johnny fluff for you, I only really have my pile of Virg-focussed fic to play with, though I can recommend reading stuff from @the-lady-razorsharp and @willow-salix cos they claim Johnny as their boi and write lots of stuff focussed on their space noodle :D

While looking for my previous post in my archives, I came across a snippet of John from one of my fics and got the idea of little Johnny Snapshots. So, here from amongst all my Virg fic, have a little Johnny Nutty-style.

Note: Snapshots from all sorts of fic, looking for fluff, spoilers for everything, several AUs, several ships, pretty much potluck and lots of description of the Johnny :D And while I’ve included links to the fics, the fics themselves are likely Virgil focussed and there may not be much more of John in them than is already here. You’ve probably read some of these before, too.

I hope you enjoy anyway :D

-o-o-o-

A ghost drifted on the breeze.

White as an angel, pale as the moonlight sculpting his form, his next youngest brother rode the air currents above the island.

The only word to describe John was elegant. Airborne porcelain, he circled. Midnight starlight cascaded through Virgil’s mind. Expressions of sorrow draped in calm, warmed by an amber light, the steady core of his star-loving brother.

Virgil watched mesmerised as his turns became tighter and tighter, closer to the ground. A great arch of white feathers and he landed gently, barely disturbing the sand beneath his bare feet.

He was gleaming in the moonlight from toe to hooded gaze. Ever so pale skin, free to be bare to the elements with the absence of the sun, his only clothing was a cut off pair of jeans so faded they were more white than blue.

Only his hair had colour, flame caught in just the right flash of light.

Decision

-o-o-o-

When he woke, the sun was making for the horizon, the whole island cast in gold.

“Hey, Virgil.”

The soft melodious voice of his space borne brother was lacking its usual transmission static and it was a pleasant surprise to roll over and find John sitting on a lounger beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

First question of any brother to any injured brother, of course. “Good, actually.” And he was. Relaxed, pain at a minimum, a gorgeous sunset in preparation, and... “Great to see you down here.” Virgil didn’t admit it often, but he did miss his middle brother. Didn’t really like him so far out of reach. But John loved it, so it was what it was. Didn’t mean Virgil couldn’t be happy to see him when he could. “What brings you to this little planet?”

The sun was sculpting John’s pale features and white shirt in almost molten gold, merging his skin with his copper hair. The odd thought of some kind of Greek god fluttered through the back of Virgil’s mind. He shook himself mentally. What the hell?

V.T. Green

-o-o-o-

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Food, Tracy style

-o-o-o-

A sigh. “Um....never have I ever...er...been arrested?” Surely, they hadn’t done that?

“Are you kidding me?” Gordon, glugged down some more drink. “That’s an easy one. Paris. The Louvre.”

What?

Scott raised his hand holding his glass. “Gordon.” As if that explained everything. He swallowed heavily.

Alan snorted, rolled and fell face first onto the carpet.

Gordon laughed. “Hey, bro. Time to take another drink. Remember the teddy bear at the fair?”

“Crap.” Alan grabbed his glass and toasted the air. “Gordon.” Apparently, it did explain everything.

“Gordon.” Kayo said it like a zombie and swallowed some more alcohol. Ridley just stared at her, but was distracted as apparently not-so-asleep John attempted to locate his glass by pawing blindly at the carpet with one hand. His mumbled “Gordon.” Was almost muffled as Ridley tried to grab his arm.

“Lawn flamingo.” Virgil attempted to bring the drink to his mouth, but missed and threw it over his shoulder instead. “Oops.”

Em blinked.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling this game. Off to bed with the lot of you. I have the strongest feeling that I should have taken Grandma’s advice and gone to bed early myself.”

There were many a muttered groan, mostly of ‘Awww’ and her name, but the brothers mostly stumbled to their feet. Kayo had to drag Virgil off of Em. The man was heavy.

Ridley smiled at her as she manhandled her space noodle off into their rooms. John was muttering something about ‘Gordon’s fault...didn’t want to do that in a book store.’ Penny helped Alan to his rooms, all the time shooting glares at Gordon.

“What?” The aquanaut looked non-plussed. “What did I do?”

“Gordon, go look after your brother.” Scott’s voice was firm. He still hadn’t relaxed.

Em sighed, grabbed his arm and, activating her hoverjets, pulled him up. “C’mon, Commander, time for bed.”

“Em.” And suddenly she was in his arms.

“Flyboy, your blood alcohol content can be detected from space.”

“Space!” John’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Not today, spaceman, you’d miss TB5 and end up on Mars.” Ridley was obviously being very patient.

“Not Mars. Wrong trejacktory.” A closing door shut off the rest of the mumbled maths that followed.

Never Have I Ever

-o-o-o-

John sighed, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in echo of something he had done so many times as a boy. He used to come in here and talk Virgil’s ear off about space and stars and his latest science projects. Virgil, in turn, would nod, say the right things at the right time and generally be the good older brother. John suspected that Virgil hadn’t understood half of what he was saying, but the older boy had never said anything. Not that Virgil wasn’t smart, just his interests lay in different areas.

They were both quiet by nature and Virgil’s patience drew John to him. Mostly because he would listen. One of the hardest things about being a far above average student with very specific interests was finding someone to talk to about them. John wasn’t a big talker outside the family, but that was because society in general was lost two words into any sentence he wanted to construct. John had no use for general gossip when he had spent the day discovering a new extra-solar object. Who cared who won the football when Neptune was aligning with Earth in a way that wouldn’t happen for another one hundred and sixty five years?

It was Virgil who stopped and listened as a young John Tracy babbled about his latest discoveries.

He was his big brother.

The House

-o-o-o-

Unfortunately, distracted, he didn’t see brother number three and collided with him, nearly sending both of them to the floor.

“Oh, god, sorry…J-“ His hands met soft silk and he looked up, this time truly focussing on his tall brother.

Oh my god.

He must truly have some kind of sibling radar because there was no way in hell he could have recognised his brother otherwise.

“John?”

“Hey, Virgil.”

And yes, that was a smirk on that face.

He eyed the man from bottom to top. High heeled boots in shiny black leather. Black tights! High cut, buttoned up, deep blue coat sequined in an elaborate filigree with almost ankle length tails. The ends of his sleeves flared out like flowers over leather gloves. And a white silk cravat wrapped his throat with about ten layers of frills.

But all that didn’t live up to the hair. Oh, god, the hair. Gone was the familiar red, replaced with a fountain of silver white, springing in strands from the top of his head like a spray of leafless weeping willow, long enough to reach his chest.

Virgil stared. “Are you wearing makeup?”

The smirk widened and, yes, there was some kind of lip gloss to go with the elaborate eyeshadow arching into his brows.

Blink. “Wh-who are you?”

“Why, my dear child,” and John tapped him on the head with his ornamental riding crop. “I’m the Goblin King.”

Another blink. “Who?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing a goblin who looked quite like that.

And the more familiar John rolled his eyes. “A friend of mine advised me that this would be easier if I made myself completely unrecognisable. She is a fan of old movies, so I picked one.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “She?”

“She.”

“Okay.” He eyed his brother again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A Warm Rain Halloween (wip)

-o-o-o-

It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.

Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.

“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”

He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.

Virgil let his head drop to the bed.

Please.

Father

-o-o-o-

John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.

Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”

“No comment.”

They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.

A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.

The holocam chased her.

Oh.

The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.

“Eos, you are dangerous.”

“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Dirt

-o-o-o-

The only one standing entirely upright was her middle grandson. He brought up the rear, his tall, lithe form fluid as he walked. As always, his red hair was startling against his golden baldric. His eyes tracked around the room, his expression cool and controlled, but as his grandmother, she could see the tells of worry and exhaustion.

The great silver form of Eos sat on his arm preening her feathers. Every so often, the hawk would pause and survey the room, just like her bearer, her startling red eyes catching everything. Sal would never understand that relationship, but it had saved her family more than once and she was grateful, if still wary.

The Prince Who Would Not be King

-o-o-o-

If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.

However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.

In summary, don’t piss off the kid.

Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.

John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.

A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.

Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.

It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.

John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.

A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.

John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.

Plus One Tracy

-o-o-o-

Oh, I do have a couple of John focussed fics. The fluffiest is Bagel.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy

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