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sxfik · 4 years ago

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han seo headcanons (part 4)

writing this is cathartic tbh. of course, i always write on the days i have an exam to prep for (aka my lit exam tmrw thats technically today)!! we make good life decisions here at clown nation <3

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read on ao3

tw: mentions of abuse

the first time they competed, vincenzo was away on his buisness trip to italy. he had some loose ends to tie up after his little contract and getting paulo off the helm of the mafia.

which meant that jipuragi was particularly empty without the italian-korean's presence. no one to give han seo a pat on his back. no one to look over cha-young's shoulder.

they all felt it hard, as if the firm had a huge hole where vincenzo is supposed to be

han seo felt himself looking at his desk every single time he passed by it. the first day was more jarring than the rest, he had gotten used to vincenzo's presence in his life.

it was a particularly late friday night at jipuragi. han seo lugged into the firm a gigantic stack of contracts and internal documents about babel so the laywers and him can go through each one. cha-young had to carry both her and vincenzo's load for that week with vincenzo in italy.

they were stressed and tired and had a million paper cuts from sorting through each pile of documents. all three of them were working quietly, the silence comfortable, save for the sounds of russling paper and pens scratching across notepads

"alright, i'm off for the night. i have a airplane competition tomorrow morning and i need jason to fly far for me so i can finally win that 500 dollar prize. goodnight byeonosanim, mr. jang" the paralegal said as he put on his satchel and took out his cycle. he waved his goodbyes as the he left, leaving han seo and cha-young in the office by themselves.

they had only known each other for two weeks, really. han seo always met his hyung vincenzo over drinks or over at his house. he only ever saw the pretty lawyer from a distance, usually when taking note of how his hyung vincenzo dotes over her just so he can tease him about her

and use her to distract his hyung

it always works

cha-young didn't know much about the young ceo, despite meeting him a couple times from her time at wusang. part of her never wanted to trust him, even though he had proven himself and his loyalty to vincenzo, because in the world she lived in, everyone could betray the other at any time

but his presence in the office was comforting to her. he had come in, dressed like an 80s disco star and all asking if he could join the team, and somehow, he stuck with her.

something in her wanted to trust him. he seemed unassuming and loyal to the core, especially to vincenzo. the way he always walked into the firm grinning, visiting the plaza residents. he had an energy about him that reminded him of a younger sibling she's always wanted

but she was burned once with prosecutor jung and she's learned her lesson so it was time for the ultimate test

"are you hungry?" she asked, shuffling through her papers one last time before standing up, and putting the stacks back into their file system

han seo was startled for a second, his head buried deep with in the papers, the words almost swimming together with the amount of times he had to look through these contracts

for a second, he thought she was speaking to vincenzo, not himself before he remembered that vincenzo wasn't here this week

"Oh yes, byeonosanim. Would you like to order something or..?" he'd replied as he stood up from his seat, giving his legs a strech. he had forgotten just how tired he was until she asked him, his body feeling the effects of running the company and being at jipuragi

"Yeah, we can. I have the perfect restaurant to get some food from! they're always open late too so it's really convenient" she quipped back, her back facing him as she started putting all the contracts back into place and started pulling out new ones to look over

he followed suit, clearing up the table he was working on and moving to the paralegal’s desk.

even though his work was often hard for him to understand, the legal and formal language needing multiple reads, he felt refreshed each time he came to the plaza

he'd established a daily routine here, going to check on the hee-soo at the snack bar, visiting the pawnshop

he's quite good with his hands. he'd always known he had a knack for taking things apart and fixing them, which especially helped at the pawnshop when college students and older families would come by with broken tablets and gadgets.

even though he was rich, barely anything was spent on him when his dad was alive. every single new outfit or toy always went to han-seok, where as he was stuck with the ragged hand me downs, and old toys.

so when he had gotten his first phone, and broken the keypad, (because han seok threw it across the room when he got angry that he had the same model as his illegitimate brother) he understood it was up to him to figure it out.

he was always good at taking things apart, from all his toy cars to majority of the gadgets and clocks he had in his house.

(there was a day, when he was younger, that he took apart han seok's toy car. the next school day he walked around with gloves, trying to forget about how his cuts hurt as he curled his fingers around a pencil)

taking things apart and then putting them back together the same way was somehow natural to him. but of course, none of that mattered since he couldn't score well enough on his exams to get past the courses he needed to into engineering. plus, he could imagine the sneer on his father's face if he told him what path he was considering...

for most of his life, he'd felt useless compared to his brother. he was never the quick-witted boy at school, failing his english courses and having to go to cram schools and tutoring sessions just to pass by.

he hated going to school everyday, having the teachers shame him for not being as smart as his brother, not being as charismatic or as smooth talking

the exam days were always the worst. looking at the exam sheet, his palms sweaty and his throat tight as he looked at the questions

the doubt was overwhelming. the pressure made him sweat and freeze up even though he knew the problems.

the kids at his schools always seemed to prefer han seok, for some weird reason, when to him he's always been the menace in his life.

han seok was the one to head the company. the one he can't measure up to in front of his father. the one to push the family forward. every bit of praise, every second of attention, it all went to han seok.

han seo was the mistake. the one who always fucked it up. the one who seemed to mess up his brother's plans.

his brother seemed to take it upon himself to remind him that he wasn't meant to be alive. and their father, believing it to be good for han seo, would force him to be tutored by han seok every day.

his brother had a field day with it, finding the most creative ways to abuse and torture him

of course, he's not allowed to say a word about it.

at first, working at jipuragi was anxiety inducing, sweat drenching his shirt each time he brought a document he thought useful to vincenzo, his throat closing up imagining the consequences of fucking up

he knew deep down, that vincenzo wasn't like his brother, he will not hurt him, he will not kill him

but the anxiety and panic are second nature to him

his eyes were glued to his shoes after he handed it over to vincenzo.

vincenzo paused, looking over the document with scrutiny. and his body was automatically bracing for a slap, a punch. at the very least a snide remark or a sneer.

instead he looked up at han seo, nodding, and told him "this is very useful. thank you."

thank you.

thank you. he blinked.

the words echoed in his head as he replayed them back over and over. thank you. in all his years working, no one had said thank you. no words of appreciation were ever dealt for doing his job. for doing something right.

unable to think of a reply, he walked back to his desk and sat down, the shock overwhelming him before he got his mind working again

although it took him double the time to go through the contracts than it did vincenzo or cha-young, he was never berated. there was never a comment about how slow he was, how he wasn't cut out for this, only appriciative glances and words when he did well

and when he didn't, they corrected him, gently. never maliciously, never taunting, always gentle.

and for the first time, he could breathe

the time passed by quickly as they both continued working in silence, han seo finishing up half a stack before the doorbell rang.

"i'll get it! ceo jang, can you set the table up?" cha-young looked toward as she went to grab the food from the delivery man

"yes, byeonosanim" he replied as he went to grab some disposable plates and wooden chopsticks from the cabinet

he set everything out just in time for the lawyer to set the food down. he squinted at the bowls she pulled out, the bright red liquid a stark contrast to the white containers.

"uh, byeonosanim, what is that?"

"hm? oh it's fire noodles. you don't mind spice do you, han seo?" she quirked her eyebrow at him, her voice sickly sweet

and he grinned at her and that was enough of an answer: it was showdown time.

so there he was, sitting across from cha-young, the container of red chili oil central to both of them. both of their suit coats were off, lest they start literally heating up.

oh, and if either of them reach for their water: they're out.

for about 10 seconds, they stared at each other, trying to psych each other out, before his phone timer counted down.

....3, 2, 1 and they were off!

both of them grabbed their chopsticks and spoons and ate two large bites and drank the broth before angling for one spoon full of chili oil into their noodles.

and on they went in this cycle, eating a bite and drinking broth, and pouring chili oil in after each cycle.

3 pours in, and they were still doing good, neither of them showing any signs of redness

6 pours in and his tongue was swollen, her eyes watery, their broth bright red

7 pours in and .... was it just him or was the room getting hotter?

8 and you could see the sweat dripping the lawyer's forehead, the sniffles of the lawyer getting louder and louder. meanwhile he was panting, trying to increase the circulation into his mouth

9 and their arms meet across the table, inches from the chili oil. their eyes lock, their faces bright red and the pain of his tongue unbearable

his eyes are squinted (from his eyes burning or from concentration, we'll never know) and the lawyer is making faces, trying to get him to give in

"it'll" *huff* "be easier" *huff* "if you give in now" *huff*

he laughed back, in response. "and let you win? no way. I'M getting that paper crown"

their eyes both glance at the flimsy, blue paper crown set upon it's carrier, a stack of contracts

she scoffed back (and almost choked) "absolutely not"

they stare each other down as they pour more in and go for another round

they swallow and in that second, cha-young made a fatal mistake

she breathed in the fumes. and coughed. and grabbed the water before she could think about it.

"AHAHA I WIN!!" he yelled out, the chair flying back as he jumped up, the layer of sweat easing up when he grabbed the bottle of water and chugged the whole thing down

the lawyer on the other hand, was slumped in the seat, taking the opportunity to also chug the water.

for around 10 seconds all they did was pant, getting their bodies back into a normal pace before cha-young spoke up

"fine i guess you win, have a great night!" she jabbered out quickly but he knew what she was trying to do

"nuh uh, nope, you're not getting out of this. we agreed! loser has to crown the winner." he grinned at her, his eyes completely closed as his happiness shone through

sighing, the lawyer grabbed the crown from it's holy pedastal and stomped over.

"tun ta da da !!! all hail king han seo, destroyer of spice, the unyielding one" she sang out, her voice deeper as traces of laughter tinted her voice

she placed the crown upon his name and bowed, "may he reign forever" and looked up and shot him a wink "at least, until i win next time"

he struck a superman pose, and puffed his chest out, before both of them crumbled into laughter, cha-young dramatic one ringing above his cackling

"we should do this again please, noona!" he wheezed out, his stomach hurting from laughter.

but it was only his ringing out, as hers cut out sharply.

"noona?"

he paused as his head whipped around to the lawyer, her head tilted as she looked at him

did i say that? i swear i called her byeonosanim... and he replayed the moment.

fuck.

"ah, i'm so sorry hong cha young byeonosanim, i overstepped, i apologize," he bowed in apology to her.

"do you call vincenzo byeonosanim hyung?"

"huh?" he looked up at her in confusion, "uh, yeah i do call him hyung. why?"

"you can call me noona then." she quipped back and for a second, he stared at her. wait what?

she clapped his back, and he choked on his spit, the clap knocking the air out of him "relax. you passed the test han-seo. i've always wanted a younger brother, you know? you can call me noona. as long as you remember your manners, that is," shooting him a wink

he glanced at her, before breaking out into the biggest grin, his gums peaking out.

"okay... cha-young noona!" he giggled, as they took their seats.

she grinned back, settling in.

"ah, you know noona, he said the same thing as you"

"huh?" she squinted back

"vin hyung! he said the same 'you better mind your manners'" han seo laughed as he mocked the korean-italian mafia's voice

"you know, that impression is spot on!" she laughed as he continued the voice, adding in the classic hand gestures, until both of them broke into laughter.

for some reason, both of them were instantly comfortable with one another.

for han seo, laughing with cha-young, trading insults and teasing felt warm, it felt like he'd found a best friend (a best friend who once upon a time he almost maimed by sending thugs after her, but she swore to him that all is forgiven) they had similar humor, similar tastes, similar personalities

for cha-young, he felt like a partner in crime. not like the way vincenzo her partner in life in crime, but in the way that they were both pranksters, both with similar personalities and bright humor

it felt like finding a sibling, a person to commit crimes with, a person to clown together with

"you know, noona, is vin hyung..." he paused mid-sentence, contemplating if he could ask this.

"go on, han seo" cha-young encouraged him, one hand bringing the bottle of water to her mouth

"is he your boyfriend?" he rushed out the words and—

he was sprayed in the face.

cha-young was sputtering as the water dripped off his face, and his eyes shut as he wiped off the excess

"yah, why would you even ask that?" she scoffed out refusing to meet his eyes, but he could see the red tint creeping up on her neck and her cheeks

he shot her a look.

"yeah, yeah okay. he and i are... partners"

"oh." he quipped back, a sinister smile slowly spreading across his face

"no, no, no" she shook her at him, "i do not have a crush on him"

he raised an eyebrow back "who said anything about a crush hm, noona?"

she froze and he knew he'd have next weeks entertainment sorted

"you know maybe i'll take back that younger brother thing if this is how it's like" she taunted, but he didn't feel any hurt. instead her teasing just made his heart soar, her teasing somehow a comfort

"oh, we're just getting started!" he quipped back, as they cleaned up for the night, continuing their conversation as they restored the firm back to order.

"i've noticed you going to the pawnshop a lot recently" she noted, as she grabbed a stack of contracts to put back into the filing cabinet

"ahh, yeah i've been helping them out. they're having a baby you know and it must be hard on both of them to run the shop" he responded as he stacked another set of contracts together, clearing Mr. Nam's desk

"you should do it."

"what?"

"study electronics. or at least continue working for the pawnshop."

he stared at her.

how did she know? for someone so bright and busy he didn't expect her to be so observant to him.

"oh please, like it's hard to notice. i've seen the way you always seem to be happier as you pass by the pawnshop. when i popped in during lunch, i saw you, hunched over the tablet. it's the happiest i've seen you look."

"oh." he grew quiet "it's a little too late, don't you think noona? for me to even consider that? i'd be a little foolish to follow that"

she sighed and turned to him, grabbing the stack from his arms. "let me tell you a story han seo. i'm 34 years old and a lawyer and don't get me wrong, i love doing this. but when i was little my dream was always to sing. but for years, i pushed it back, thinking i could never do it."

she stuffed the papers to the back corner, somehow managing to stuff it in and turned back to him.

"so, noona? did you do it?"

"patience. a couple weeks after my final exam for law school, i said why the hell not. and now i've been taking lessons one and off for years!"

"you should give a demo!! sing for us"

"oh, please i couldn't possibly do it" she tucked her hair back, looking bashful.

"ple-" he barely got the words out.

"oh of course, if you insist!" she grabbed the empty water bottle and climbed on her stool, the makeshift stage for the night

"noona! noona!!" han seo cheered her on as she stood up. she cleared her throat, moving her head to the side and warming up

and she opened her mouth.

and sang.

if you could call that singing.

what came out was more of a series of tone-deaf screeches, making him wince but mask his face with a smile, trying to solider through the pain.

he clapped as SOON as she finished the last note, his ears grateful for the break. she took a flourished bow as she jumped off the stool

"how was it?"

"noona, that was amazing!" he lied, trying his best to stop the ringing in his ears.

she smacked him with her water bottle "yah! you liar! i'm god awful" she made one of her classic faces.

"you know??? and you made me endure that???" he touched his ears. he expected to see blood but luckily the damage wasn't too bad

"YAH!" she smacked him again. "you brat, the point isn't that i'm good or not."

"then what is?" his eyebrows furrowed as he looked in confusion.

if you're not good at it then what really is the point? why should i keep trying?

"the point is that i'm happy. it doesn't matter how good you are at something for you to consider it an interest, as long as it makes you happy."

he paused. no one had ever said that before. to do what makes him happy. not what made his father or his brother happy. everyone's advice all his life was to stick to what you're good at and that there isn't a point in trying if you aren't good from the beginning.

"look i'm terrible at singing. but i know that if i had never pursued it, i would have grown old and regretted it. so what if i am bad! at least i got to do it while i'm alive! give electronics a shot, han seo."

han seo bit his lip slightly. and he nodded.

he was going to give it a shot.

"good! now lets get this cleaned up and go home!" she sashayed off to her desk, grabbing the last of her stuff before they left the firm.

the next week, when vincenzo was back from italy, he had expected to find the firm just like he left it. what he didn't expect was his girlfriend wife partner and brother han seo, one sprawled on the couch and the other on the floor, piles of blankets and what looked like a mic and SEVERAL bottles of sujo scattered across the table.

they were both in matching pajama sets, and snoring very loudly. he shuffled over to his desk where a note that looked like it was written in crayon was left

and it said

"dear vin hyung: noona and i were having a sleepover last night. i made sure she was extra safe and did not do anything overly amitious (like call you in the middle of the night to ask you if you had to leave) if you are seeing the mess that we probably made, please excuse it. i will clean it up as soon as i can. grazie!

p.s. you should ask noona out sometime, i have it in good word that she might be interested ;)

to be continued...

a/n: let this be a fic reminding you that if you are passionate about something, pursue it! our world conditions us to believe that you have to be good at something in order to be able to do it but that's absolute bs. please give your younger and future selves a chance by taking up something you've always wanted to do <3

#mine #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #chayenzo #hong cha young #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo #jeon yeo been #vincenzo x cha young #han seo supramacy #jang han seo #canon divergence #kwak dong yeon #jang han seok #ok taecyeon

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hualianff · 3 years ago

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Mi Amor(tentia) II 《I》

Every Sunday, XL personally delivers the ingredients to HC to restock after each week. Sometimes it’s during the morning before classes, HC inviting XL to stay and chat over coffee.

Other times, it’s in the middle of HC’s classes because XL’s only has so many chunks of free time to drop the ingredients off. XL usually keeps himself scarce as he helps himself to deposit the ingredients off on HC’s desk in his office.

On days XL is especially busy with classes, meetings with outside personnel and tending to the school’s greenhouse, his sixth-year teaching assistant, BY, will deliver ingredients to HC.

HC is easily the person XL enjoys spending time with the most. They have such fun conversations and HC makes XL feel so comfortable and listened to. Plus, HC is undeniably charming and handsome. XL thanks whatever higher power there is that someone as refined as HC took XL under his wing.

XL has learned and observed that HC is a professor that students either love or hate. Some perceive the potions professor as sketchy-looking and unfair in his grading. They take HC’s pushing as ridiculing, then complain about their poor marks after refusing to do the bare minimum of the assignment.

(Unbeknownst to HC, XL has taken it upon himself to passive aggressively warn these students from bad-mouthing HC in the hallways.)

Understandably, The first year students absolutely cower in HC’s presence. But from fourth year and up, HC is one of the most loved professors. When HC begins to passionately lecture with really big hand gestures and funny word combinations, the students can’t help but admire him with starry eyes.

(Student: “Hua Lao Shi, I don’t think ‘impossibleness’ is a word.”

HC: “It is now. As I was saying, don’t let the impossibleness of a goal influence your confidence in working towards it. You should not pay attention to whether something is possible or not, but rather focus on what steps you’re taking to find your answer.)

He’s clearly smart; intellectually based from the readings he assigns students from his own books; socially as his humor is always on point and he never misses a beat to tease his students; and emotionally because HC does not tolerate bullying in his house or his classroom. (Nor in the school, if he can help it.)

HC himself was bullied back in the muggle orphanage and during his time at Hogwarts. He knows what it feels like to wake up dreading going to classes and interacting with people who had nothing better to do than put others down.

So while HC can seem intimidating and blunt at first, he genuinely has his students’ best interests and wellbeing in mind. Witnessing how seriously HC takes his job as a teacher and trusted adult figure, XL’s feelings wrap around him like vines and squeeze him in their hold anytime he’s around HC.

XL’s never had a crush like this before.

Later in the semester, XL and HC are chosen as the professors to monitor the first years on their first trip to Hogsmeade. There is no doubt the transfiguration professor, SQX, took part in pulling some strings to make this happen for XL.

What no one knows is that the defense against the dark arts professor also played matchmaker. In an intense game of wizard's chest that unfortunately ended in his defeat, HX was forced to nominate HC to go with XL.

HC and XL make the best guides. XL is very enthusiastic in answering first years’ questions while HC is good at describing things through muggle terminology.

During his years at Hogwarts, XL has always loved the Hogsmeade trips and bought new candies from Honeydukes each time. In fact, he has a huge sweet tooth that he can never satisfy. Cue XL showing the students around Honeydukes and HC buying all of XL’s favorite goodies in the background.

When it’s time to move on to the next store, HC presents the bagged sweets to XL with a smile.

(XL, staring at the bagged sweets: “San Lang! You shouldn’t have!”

HC, grabbing XL’s hand and physically transferring the bag: “Nonsense. Gege deserves a reward for working so hard lately. Giving him a few candies is the least I can do.”

XL, clutching the bag tightly, fingers tingling from brushing against HC’s own: “If you insist. Many thanks, San Lang.”

XL snacks on some sweets for the rest of the trip. HC watches with a pleased eye.)

One day during finals week before winter break, XL falls ill with a terrible migraine. He’s been prone to migraines for a while now, which he’s used to enduring with medicine tablets that don’t do much to ease the pain.

XL manages to get through his morning classes. But by lunch time, his stomach pain worsened tenfold to which HC, who planned on having lunch with XL, convinced the herbology professor to take the rest of the day off.

“But my classes-” XL’s voice breaks off as he winces as another wave of nausea sweeps through his body. HC puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I will fill in for you,” HC assures. XL looks like he’s about to protest, however, the potions professor holds a finger up to his lips. “I can quickly brew something up for your pain. You like the smell of eucalyptus, right? I can add a faint scent to soothe your sinuses too.”

“San Lang…”

HC fixes XL with a pointed stare. XL’s face softens, eyes closing in defeat.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully. Without thinking, HC reaches over to cup XL’s cheek, sliding back to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before massaging his temple.

“It’s not a problem. Gege needs rest.”

Luckily, HC doesn’t have afternoon classes lined up for the afternoon. Once XL has retired to his room to relax, HC settles behind XL’s desk as students filter in for class to take the final exam.

(Students who had potions that morning entering the herbology room: “Oh shit-”)

Between classes, HC completes the tasks written in XL’s planner he left during lunch. Unfortunately, HC has a certain TA who sidles up next to him out of nowhere, whispering inconspicuously, “I know you have the hots for Xie Lao Shi.”

HC, who had been marking scrolls, jolts in shock. His left hand streaks across the parchment, leaving a red trail in its wake.

(Student who receives his scroll with a huge red line: “The fuck???? Does this mean it’s wrong? Do I need to do it again?”)

HC ignores BY as he continues about his business. Except BY rolls a chair right beside the desk, her prying eyes making HC feel like he needs to cover more than just his right eye.

“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar.”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady-”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady,” BY repeats in a nasally voice. HC tightly clenches the pen in his hand. BY, unfazed about testing HC’s patience, sighs pitifully. “Sorry, Hua Lao Shi. I swear, I’m only trying to help.”

“Help with what?” HC asks, attempting to remain oblivious. BY gives HC a deadpan. “Ok, fine. How could you possibly help?”

“Well, I heard that Xie Lao Shi might be crushing on another professor-” HC chokes on his spit. “-and maybe you two…”

BY taps the tips of her pointer fingers together.

“What!?” HC aggressively clears his throat. The scrolls are long forgotten now. “H-how do you know?”

“He told me,” BY reveals, smirking like the devil’s child.

“Who is it? Tell me more,” HC demands.

“Ah ah ah–you first.”

HC can’t believe this girl who has him cornered is the same timid third-year transfer student who couldn’t even look him in the eye. He bites his tongue, reluctant to discuss his person of interest with a seventeen-year-old. BY just sits there, looking unbothered as she examines her nails while waiting for HC to cave.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes before HC admits it.

“Fine. Yes, I like Xie Lao Shi.”

“What do you like about him?” BY asks immediately. HC itches to take points from Hufflepuff; what is this, an interrogation?

To no one’s surprise, HC spends the next half hour praising XL’s selling points (which are all of them) and subtly hinting how plans to ask the herbology professor out soon. BY unhelpfully inputs that HC needs to confess his feelings first.

“And then he needs to accept your feelings too,” she adds, much to HC’s irritation.

“I thought you were helping me?”

“I am,” BY smiles innocently. “By listening.”

“You’re not going to tell me who…?” HC falls silent, glaring at the last scroll he finished grading. A glance at his watch indicates there are fifteen minutes left before the final class of the day begins.

“Of course not. I don’t go around spilling professors’ secrets, especially Xie Lao Shi’s,” BY says. HC nods in resignation.

BY doesn’t tell HC shit in the end, yet somehow made him unload a few things about his feelings regarding XL. HC supposes she was right about the listening part.

Must be some sort of witchcraft. (HC tells himself that XL definitely would’ve laughed at this thought.)

Strangely, HC feels better after this little confessional session. Though he is incredibly curious as to who has caught XL’s eye in this school. HC’s heart painfully twists in on itself at the possibility that it’s anyone but him.

HC desperately hopes BY’s rule about not sharing secrets applies to him as well.

《III》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #HP AU #cerdrabbles #TBC #Banyue is menace #she and HC are close though #XL simps club #no I still don’t support JKR

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1oserjk · 5 years ago

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— full stop | 03

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

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02 ⇋ 04

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

shit is 16k .. sry

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full stop | 03: unhappy birthday

Hyejin has always been a ball of fury when you poked at the wrong buttons on her. But something about Jungkook and the aftermath of the divorce has made her even more apprehensive of the man, and you can only do so much to shift her opinions elsewhere.

“Fuck him over. Somehow, someway — just do it.”

You choke.

Eyes widening, sputtering out, “H-Hyejin..”

“I’m not kidding,” she deadpans, already rolling up her sleeves, “How many times do I have to tell you that fucker will never learn?”

A hand comes up, “Okay wait.” You pause. “Are we going to collectively forget Jungkook is my daughter’s father?”

Her head shakes. “Not relevant—and also hard for me to care when it comes to him.”

You exhale, eyes fluttering closed and palms resting flat on her kitchen table. “Look, I know he’s not the most liked between everybody right now. But, I can’t just tell him no.. That’s not fair.”

“But there’s boundaries,” she points and argues, then prompts, “What kind of outcome does he expect when he goes out with the one person who caused most of the mess two years ago.”

Your eyes roll back. “She took a micro-portion of it.”

“Her presence was still there and highly significant if I'm judging from most of the nights you came to me for!”

“Hyejin.” You glare.

“And don’t even try to do That Thing where you deduce your own valid feelings and assume everybody else’s choices and actions are reasonable when it’s clearly not!” You glare and she blatantly ignores it, waving you off, “And I know you’re keeping everything within yourself for the sake of being a better co-parent, or whatever fucking advice you read in the facebook group you’ve recently planted yourself in, but god. I’m mad, anyone would be mad, so let me be mad for you.”

“No one is going to be mad about this,” you finally decide. “There’s nothing to be mad about. He is his own person and he can make his own decisions.” She pins her stare at your nails that you pick at. You feel it. “Even if it means going out with someone younger, more exciting, who prances around with a pen in her hand as if she’s really doing something useful all the fucking time for whatever goddamn reason. I could care less,” you can’t help but mutter under your breath shortly after.

“Ha!” One of her acrylics poke at you and you flinch. “You are mad.”

You groan out loudly. “I’m not mad,” you exasperate. “All I’m saying is for him to have at least decent taste if he’s going to date. Not someone so expectant after a divorce.”

Her eyes narrow.

“But that’s not the point,” you make sure to add right after. Fingers run through your hair and you sigh. “Look,” you ease gently. “I’m trying to be alright in this, okay? The last thing I want to do is stomp in like a madwoman and refuse a relationship that would’ve happened sooner or later.”

Of course, she disagrees. “God,” she stands, grabbing both of your mugs and heading to the sink. “You’re turning into one of those Milf’s that stand by to live, laugh, and love—it’s grossing me out.”

Your ears perk at attention and you smile smugly. “You think I’m a Milf?”

“Shut up. You’re flattered.” She turns it on to soak both of your cups before the coffee sticks. “I only dropped by to tell you that it’s okay to freak out once in a while.”

The only reason she’s been keening on you to go apeshit in front of your ex-husband, was the frantic phone call you left on the night of ditching Jungkook in your own kitchen. Being that she was here now, claiming that Kiumin ached for a playdate with Yeona, when in reality, her only goal was to scold you for not swinging at the doll Jungkook pranced around with as of late.

She puts a hand on her hip and leans towards the counter. “Turning to corny coping mechanisms like following a Bob Ross tutorial isn’t going to fix your rage you’ve been pushing down.”

“Okay, but that’s only because Jungkook still has some of his supplies laying around and the only thing I could come up with was painting a fucking sunset. Sue me,” you defend, throwing your arms up. “Besides, you weren’t there to see him, Hyejin. He was getting out of his office for once, smiling even, a-and it was different. A good different, and..” You’re completely at a loss, mouth opening, then shutting back closed, because what was even the point.

“..You don’t want to take that away from him,” she finishes, a tilt to her head and a consoling expression gracing her features.

“Exactly,” you exhale. “I can’t even be mad that she’s actually getting him out there, taking him to things that didn’t involve work. Something I couldn’t even do-“

“Hey, no,” she stops you, head firmly shaking. “No, you don’t get to do that. You were there and present, even on the days you were close to giving up before you actually did — you were there, trying your absolute hardest, clinging onto what he barely gave you. You were never the problem, okay?”

You meekly nod, tired eyes on her when she takes a firm hold of both of your hands.

She makes it clear, saying, “As a wife and a mother, you were always there and that is something nobody can take away from you.”

“I know,” you confess. “I’m just in a weird position right now, and I’m stressed out from it. Not mad—stressed.”

“And you don’t have to be, alright?” She shakes on your shoulder. “I know I insisted on breaking some plates and screaming, but hearing you out, I’m sure you would rather stray from the subject as a whole.”

“Please.”

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair for now, and if I come up with something to do for us that doesn’t involve egging someone’s car—“

“Hyejin!”

“—then I’ll let you know.”

You huff out a breath and finally stand, entering into her arms she spans out. “I’ll always be worried about you, babe.”

“I know,” you mumble, “And I’ll keep telling you I’m fine every single time you ask.” She pinches your side that earns a loud yelp from you and a hiss of pain a second later.

“Love you.”

“Always,” you promise and then remind, “Please save some space for Yeona’s birthday that’s coming up, and be prepared for any phone-calls beforehand of me crying because my baby’s growing up and I have no control to slow down time for it.”

“Ah, that’s right,” she says. “Tell me if you need any help planning, alright?”

“Of course.”

“Kiumin, baby,” she calls out, heading towards the living space, “Buddy, let’s go. We gotta get home before dinnertime.”

Both of your children are on the floor, several toys in front of them and a television with brightly lit characters and colors that did not have to be at a high-volume as it was right now.

“Aw,” the little boy pouts, “Okay.” He turns to your daughter and waves hesitantly.

“Bye Kiumin,” Yeona yells out, clambering across the floor to get a hug. Short arms wrap around tiny figures and it’s absolutely adorable. Your eyes can sense a hint of red on Kiumin’s cheeks when your daughter’s hands tug tightly onto his. “See you soon, maybe.” She shrugs.

“Don’t worry, Yeonie,” Hyejin promises. “We’ll meet up again soon.”

At that, Yeona nods enthusiastically and shuffles herself forward for another hug directed towards your best friend. “Bye, aunt Hyejin.” She receives a soft pat to her head.

“Be safe on the way home,” you order.

They make their leave swiftly, and it finally gives you time to properly breathe—and think for a long while.

Tiny fingers pinch the paper in between them, a determination set in her eyes as she excitedly jumps around in her seat. “It’s done,” she announces.

Your eyes resemble a wink when you squint at her, sun shining way too brightly for it to be this early in the morning. It practically reflects Yeona’s attitude in starting the day like this, while you sit pathetically in an oversized shirt and coffee in hand.

Taking the time in the morning for yourself was barely a thing, especially when it came to your daughter and her way too early sleep schedule her school had willed her on.

Instead of sleeping in, you’re dealt with Yeona already being wide-eyed in her bed, making grabby hands at the toys in her bedroom you’ve put the time in cleaning up on the floor from the night before.

Even staying home in her matching sweats her father had gifted her, she would still request her hair up and out of her face for the rest of the day. So, you’d be taking fifteen minutes to slick her hair up in her choice of a ponytail or pigtails instead of preciously sleeping in. Even right after, she’d become hungry, wanting breakfast to go along with her cartoons she had downloaded on her tablet.

Which was perfectly fine, you’d be up soon anyway, so it would be better overall to just start the day off a bit earlier. It would only just leave you a bit off-looking and disoriented in the things you’d do for yourself.

Years back, when Yeona was younger and you were still married, the routine was easier and much steadier when you would tag-team in getting ready for the day, passing off your daughter after one task would be done for the other and it would be your own turn for yours.

At first, it left you frazzled when you were alone most days, but now, since the separation has settled in, it’d been okay for the most part. It just meant that some of the things and time you put aside for yourself were sacrificed, and that you would have to save your self care routine for later in the night when Yeona would flutter her eyelashes closed for slumber.

You excitedly clap a few times and reach eagerly. “Can I see?”

Yeona’s birthday was reaching close and for most of them, you would be able to know exactly what she’d want for that particular year. Normally, it would be a themed party of whatever she had been obsessed with at that time, and obviously the gifts you would drown her in. Last year went with a breeze. You were glad at that time when most of the conflict between you and Jungkook had faded when the time came, solely focusing on your daughter and that was it. But now, with the way things had left between the two of you recently, you were worried it wouldn’t be the same as this year.

Yeona had declared she wanted something different this year and decided that she’d write it all out in a list. Still unsure and a bit confused, you complied and set out her supplies for her to take over on the paper. It was only fifteen minutes after she claimed that she was finished.

Leaning towards her paper, you expected it to be drowned in color and design, taking the same artistic habits as her father. But to no avail, it was left blank.

Your brows furrow. “I thought you were done?”

She nods. “I am!”

“So.. Where—“ You awkwardly left off, wondering if she was hiding it beneath the table or behind her back. She giggles when you curiously dip your head under the tabletop.

“In here,” she points. A single finger pokes at her head and she proudly smiles before explaining, “The list is in my head! If you read all of it at once, then it wouldn’t be fun, so I’ll tell Mommy the first thing now and the rest for later.”

Your mouth opens in a sound of realization, and your eyes glint at how clever she became. “So,” you excitedly lean towards her more, landing a soft peck on her forehead. “What does my baby want for her birthday?”

“No party,” she firstly says with a firm shake to her head.

Your eyes widened. “No party?” Since the beginning, it’s always been one.

“Nope.” Her lips purse out with a crinkle to her nose. “Mommy,” she says, eyes twinkling. “I’m growing, so big girls don’t have parties.”

You hum, “Is that so?”

She nods dramatically.

“So what would you want this year?”

“I would like to ask if we could have my birthday at Uncle Jin and Joonie’s beach house.”

Your brows shoot up. “That’s all the way in Jeju..”

She nods. “We could all take the ferry!” Then, she pouts. “We never go on the ferry.”

Her idea runs through your mind for a few seconds before theorizing with her, mindlessly murmuring to yourself, “We could take the one in Busan and visit Grandma and Grandpa on the way..” You were sure they would want to see Yeona on the day of her birthday.

Her eyes brighten when she picks up on your mumbles, grappling your wrist and shaking it, “Yes, Mommy! We’ll take everybody, like, Daddy’s co-workers and Kiumin!”

It seems that you were already confirming the idea instead of considering it, though it all seemed like a perfect idea that wouldn’t take a lot of effort or stress. You can already imagine the small gathering for the weekend getaway, already knowing how much the others would like some time off, especially the guys that would always be cooped up in the suffocated shop filled with needles and ink. It would be a nice way of switching a few things up and catching up with the rest of the inner circle you’ve accumulated from the time of being with Jungkook.

“Well,” you start, “Let me have a conversation with your Daddy and then maybe,” you halt when she begins to turn giddy, “Maybe it will happen. But he’s going to have to ask Uncle Jin and Joon if it’s alright, so it's honestly up to them to decide..”

“Okay,” she quickly obliges, confidence set in her tone and smile, telling you that she was completely sure of her idea and their compliance to it.

“Of course!”

Jungkook’s head drops down in embarrassment while you sit across from him, mouth almost gaping.

“S-Seokjin,” you sputter. “You barely even gave it a few seconds to think about.”

He shakes a hand back and forth, “Why would I need to?”

“You can’t just..“ You lead off hopelessly. Turning to the lanky man next to him, you raise a brow. “Namjoon?”

“Fine by me,” he says over a mouthful of noodles, “We barely even use the house, anyway.”

“O-Okay, but-“

“We should go a week before the date to check up on it,” Seokjin suggests to Namjoon.

“You’re right, just in case anything is out of place,” he replies.

“The fireplace should be okay, right? I heard it rained last weekend.”

And then they fall into their own conversation, leaving you and Jungkook, the real parents in this situation — silent.

“I guess.. It’s happening?” You squeak out. The expensive couch sits uncomfortably on your bum, and you grow sweaty from being left to bask in the tension between the man across from you. It’s awkward, almost dragging on since you’ve entered the flat and sat down with Jungkook.

You were thankful at first, when Seokjin had butted in the conversation, boyfriend in tow.

The last time you’ve encountered your ex-husband, were only the past few weeks of dropping off Yeona on his days off, stoically handing her to him and running off until you would have to pick her up again.

It was childish, you knew that. You knew it exactly when you turned your back to him and completely shut him out three weeks ago. But at this point, it was the only way you were able to cope with however you were feeling about him, and simmering down most of your anger. But seeing that you would have to deal with him sooner rather than later, being that Yeona’s birthday was coming up, you were reluctantly willing to face him.

“Yeah, I don’t think we have a choice,” he chuckles, palms nervously rubbing against his knees. A small part of you is definitely basking in the way he squirms under your scrutiny.

“It’s fine,” you say, “This was the biggest part of Yeona’s list, anyway. She really wanted this.”

He offers a quirk to his lips, and your heart immediately seizes, having to force yourself to stop looking at him so obnoxiously. It’s gross, really, how you’ve managed to be so affected by him - good or bad, since the very start.

A throat clears, and it’s Namjoon, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other on Seokjin’s lower back. You grow curious if he noticed. “Tell Yeona we can have her birthday at our house in Jeju.”

“Thank you, really—to you both. She really wanted this, and for you guys to be there too.”

“Of course, we’ll send a message to the rest that they’re invited.”

With a smile, you stand and wrap your arms around both of them on your way out. “Thank you, again,” you can’t help but repeat. They only chuckle in your tight grasp that clearly proved how grateful you were to them.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Jungkook offers when he stands.

You shake your head, “It’s alright. I took a bus here.”

“Then, I’ll drive you back.”

“Jungkook, no, it’s okay-“

Already disappearing into his room, he makes a grab for his jacket and shoes to head out.

Seokjin chuckles when you whip around to face back the both of them, “Stubborn.”

You’re breathless when you repeat in stress, “Yeah.”

“Have a good night, _____.” Namjoon and Seokjin simultaneously wave, sending you both out the door. You embarrassingly let out a light laugh, waving back and wishing the same for them.

You rush to the side of Jungkook when they disappear.

Nobody talks, even until you’ve reached his car, unlocking the doors and allowing you to slip in the passenger side.

He got the vehicle shortly after finalizing his move out of the house, offering the one you previously shared and owned. You didn’t have much of a choice when he slipped the keys in your hand and left shortly after without any argument. You were more nervous that if you pushed more for him to take it, he’d go out and buy you a new one the next day.

For Jungkook driving the sleek black car everyday, it practically seems unused, leather seats still having that particular smell and everything still being tidy around it. Then again, Yeona is now older and less messy than before.

Everything in the car is so exactly him, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it.

After buckling up and properly settling in, he slides the keys in the slot, leaving you to stare at the hanging car accessory up at the rearview mirror.

It’s a picture of you and Yeona, laid out on the floor. You remember the memory clearly, Yeona declaring a tickle fight and sprawling out on the floor for a fair match. Even with Yeona sat on top of you, it seemed that you were winning in the game with how her head was thrown back and a wide grin on her face, you could practically hear the squeal she was letting out in the picture.

He still had it.

For a second, you smile back at it.

You barely even notice the car already moving and him asking the question, “Why didn’t you drive?”

Your head flicks to him, and your eyes stay right at his jaw when he makes a smooth turn. You shrug, “It was nearby, I didn’t mind.”

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would have come home instead of you travelling all this way for me.”

Home. He still called it home, like it’d be any day now for him to return to it, that this was all a temporary fix until everything would get less foggy.

“It’s fine,” you pass off. “I didn’t think you would see the offer as worthy since Yeona is at my mom’s place right now.”

His head shakes, turning away from the road to catch your eyes for a split second. “I don’t need any reason to see you, _____. Just tell me, and I’ll be there.” It’s with vigour and promise, you almost turn flustered.

You let out a small scoff before looking down at your hands. “If you said that a long time ago, we would’ve still been married,” you joke, though it comes out bitter. “Thanks for the offer, though,” you sarcastically add.

The car suddenly halts and you look up, the red traffic light flashes in front of you.

Jungkook shuts his eyes before tiredly letting out a sigh.

You grow anxious, looking out the window from the side. Some of the restaurants and shops are surprisingly still open and you focus on the windows with bright lighting inside of the buildings. Friends and couples are eating out, some are laughing, and you wonder what some of their conversation consisted of. You surmise it’s something foolish when one of them throws their head back in a fit of laughter.

Your hands grip each other when a pair from the opposite side of your vision pucker up and kiss. It turns personal way too quickly and you immediately feel like you're intruding, grateful that the light turns green and you finally move away from the intimate image, wondering if you would ever get close to that phase of your life again.

The silent minute brings you to announce abruptly, “We’re going to take the ferry in Busan instead of here, so that she would be able to see your parents before leaving.”

“Sounds fine,” he replies. “My mother would like that.”

You nod.

“What about yours?” He suggests.

You sigh, head hitting the headrest of the seat softly. “Another detox trip. They said they would send her a birthday card before they would leave. Probably why they’re spending as much time with her as they can before they leave.”

Even with eyes on the road, he still seems to be listening intently. He hesitates a few seconds before asking, “How’s your dad?”

You send him a smile, the least you could do before answering, “Still hates you.”

He snorts. “Yeah,” he says, “I figured.”

You swallow tightly and decide to ask, “How’s settling with Seokjin?” It’s been a couple of years, but still, it all still feels new and something you haven’t gotten around to asking ever since.

He hums, “It’s quiet most of the time since he’s at Namjoon’s nearly everyday..”

“The place is practically yours then,” you attempt to joke again, but it comes out as hardly, not exactly comfortable to throw that specific tone around.

He shrugs. “Wish he would let me pay more than half of the rent, but it’s tolerable.”

“Are you ever planning to get your own place soon?”

“Huh,” he thinks. “Haven’t put much thought into it.”

“Well, if you ever do, I can always help out,” you quietly suggest and he takes a quick glimpse at you to see if you were actually being serious.

“Really?”

You nod. “Yeah. I actually think it would be cool for Yeona to have a second room at your place. So it’s home over there for her as it is with me.”

Another red light, and his eyes blink close for a moment. The conversation is going too fast and all of a sudden, it starts to hurt.

Jungkook doesn’t want another home, a place that reads that he is officially separated from you and out of his reach, not when it doesn’t include you in it.

It would hurt him even more if you would egg it on, support him and the move away from you, like you would want him to, and maybe you really did. He would understand why. Still, it hurts when you talk so freely like this, seemingly eager to get rid of him.

Jungkook doesn’t voice his disagreement, avoiding talking at all and keeping his mouth closed instead.

The conversation falls off after that, and he most likely figured that would be the most he got out of you for the rest of the car ride.

That was until you spoke up again.

It was quiet, almost barely heard, and it’s said quickly. “You can invite her, you know?”

His fingers unknowingly grip on the steering wheel.

You look back down. “I don’t mind and I don’t want you to think that I’ll hold you back from doing so.”

They want to reach out, grasp for your hands you keep fiddling with, scold you for biting on your lip too harshly, everything he used to do, he wanted to fall back and do it all at once.

They keep clinging to the wheel.

“I was mad back then,” you guiltily admit and he immediately shakes his head.

“You had every right to be.”

“I probably looked silly for being so mad on something I have no control over.” You move your eyes back over the window and the blurry images that pass by solemnly. “Especially when everything’s been said and done with, right?” You turn to him and he gulps. His heart drops at how quick and firm you said, as if it was that easy.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

“Maybe this is a learning curve for us,” you nod to yourself. “So, I’m open to having her with us this year.”

He had no idea why you were so sure that everything between Seol and himself were solid enough to introduce her as his girlfriend, fuck, even he wasn’t sure he could spit the word out himself.

Everything was going by way too fast, too much to process.

He only nods, clinging onto actions rather than words to speak for him.

His throat clears and the car slows down to a clear stop. You peak over his head and find your house already being presented as the car decreases in speed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” is all he says.

“Well,” your buckle releases and you slide out onto the edge of the seat, already gripping onto the handle. You offer him a smile. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

The door opens and he stiffly nods and doesn’t pull out of his spot until his own two eyes have watched your figure disappear into the entrance of the house.

“Did you double-check that you have everything?”

She nods.

“Okay, then I think we’re ready.” You clap, zipping up the rest of your bags.

She can’t even stand still with her excitement, having to run around at times when it got too much.

Ever since the beginning of planning this weekend trip, you surprisingly had a lot of time on your hands from the immense help of everybody else who volunteered to plan. You were glad that they reached out, but you also became antsy at the fact you had no control over the outcome of this gathering. In anything that Yeona wanted, you strived to make sure it would happen with reasonability. Being away from most of the planning had left you anxious on most days, wondering what Seokjin would be pulling under his sleeve on Yeona’s celebration.

“Here.” You hand her backpack to her, silently ushering her to turn around so you could slip it through her arms. “Sit on the couch and watch your show for now. Your father will be here soon to pick us up.”

She complies easily, shuffling towards the cushioned chair.

Before she becomes too absorbed in the cartoon, you ask a mindless theory for her to answer, “If Daddy shows up with a friend—that is a girl.. You’ll be nice, right?”

Her head tilts and her brows crease. “Girl—friend?”

Your fingers tighten against the hem of your sundress. “M-Maybe? I’m not sure, he hasn’t told me a lot about her..”

“That’s not right,” she notes. “Daddy should tell Mommy so she knows..”

You send her a softened smile that holds a sad shift in it. “Not this time, baby.” You look down at your hands. “Just be nice to her, okay?”

She only nods.

You brush off your knees when you stand back up, moving back towards your room to grab whatever else you might’ve forgotten and rush through most of your makeup bag to fix yourself up a bit.

You debated a few times in your head to switch up your dress for another one in your bag. Usually, you never cared, but this time, oddly, you wanted to satisfy more than yourself with the way you currently looked and dressed as - for whatever reason you cannot decipher as. But having to change, you would also have to switch out Yeona’s dress since you both decided to match today.

You decided not to bother since it would take too much time, especially since you hear the buttons being pressed at your front door, buzzing when the code punches in and indicating that Jungkook was finally here.

You quickly pull and clip on a necklace that was mindlessly set on your bedside table, and rush out the room with your bags.

When both of them come into view, you already see Yeona attached to Jungkook’s hip. No one else.

“Hey,” you breathlessly greet with a nod, trying not to seem blunt by focusing on the front door to see if a certain person tagged alone. “I hope this isn’t too much—? I cut down most of it last night..”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it,” then looks down at the bags, “But—uh, are you sure you need all of this? It’s only a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but,” you hesitate, pushing some strands of your hair away, “It’s clothes, swimsuits, sunscreen, shower products, presents—“

“Presents?” Yeona brightens.

“No,” You and Jungkook rush.

“Mommy meant something else..”

“Oh.” Her expression flattens. “Then what did she mean?” She presses.

Jungkook’s mouth gapes and he attempts to spit out an answer before you boisterly interrupt, “Oh no! We’re running late.”

He nods comically when he meets eyes with you. “Y-You’re right! Let me take your bags,” he offers.

You practically shove them into his hands when you switch positions, taking Yeona into your own and softly letting her down.

When you stand up straight, he eyes the both of you in awe when he notices.

“You’re both matching.”

You grow heated under his gaze and shyly nod, straightening out the flimsy skirt of your dress. “She’s been hounding me to get a mini size for her when I wear mine, so this was her first gift from me.”

Her tiny hands cling onto your fingers and squeezes them, “Yup! We wanted to look pretty for Daddy.”

You practically choke out a small cough at her statement as he arches a brow towards you, your cheeks dusting a shade of embarrassment immediately.

“T-There was no set intent for doing this exactly,” you defend with a growing pout before you childishly point at Yeona and sputter, “It was her idea and I just went with it.”

He chuckles, encouraging the dusty rose to spread to your ears and neck. “Well,” he starts and confirms, “You both look beautiful.” He’s already turning away and moving towards the door before you can react. “I’ll compliment you more when we get in the car, but we should hurry.”

You both scurry in front of him, and a firm hand lands on the small of your back to lead you out. Whipping around slightly, you turn surprised from the mere gesture.

A certain feeling washes over you — it’s nostalgic, almost drowning you from the blunt force when his fingers land on only the thin material that separates your skin from his. For a second, it feels like what it has always been.

Even as false pretense or even reassurance, you bask in the feeling you can only assume is melancholy and warmth, all at the same time. It’s bittersweet, but it’s something and it’s clearly there.

He offers a smile, and it’s not a polite one you usually send each other when you would interact, it’s not a forced one either. It was genuine, and it was towards you.

A smile that read this weekend would be a memorable one, like all of the other birthdays you celebrated each year.

For a split second, you feel like a family again.

The door clicks shut and you finally all head out to fulfill Yeona’s birthday journey.

“God,” he rubs at his shoulder that aches. “What did you pack in here to make me feel like this four floors down?”

Rolling your eyes, your daughter’s leg brushes against you when it kicks up for the minute of buckling her up. You don’t bother asking her to stop, silently allowing her to start playing with your hair when you lean over the other side of her carseat. You adjust her sandals while you’re at it. “We took the elevator, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“You weren’t the one carrying it,” he argues, shutting the trunk closed.

Finally finished with making sure Yeona would ride safely in the backseat, you recover your crouched form and rise. “You offered.”

He sighs, hands on his hips, and a smile creeping on his face he managed to halt before your eyes would land on them. “You never answered my question.”

Both of you make it to the front of the car and slip in, shutting the car doors simultaneously in coincidence.

You wave a hand in dismissal before reaching up for the seatbelt. “It’s a few gifts for your mother. She really liked the scent of the apartment when she last visited, so I packed a few candles of the ones I’ve been using.”

“A few?” He scoffs, pinning you a look. The car begins to run when he slides the key in the slot. He has a hard time believing in your estimate of the amount you were bringing when he picks up weights on a regular basis at the gym, not boasting when he clearly can’t help mentioning it every now and then. There were way more than a few.

You hesitate, observing him shift the gear and backing the car up and out of the parking space. “Fine, I slipped in a few more for Seokjin,” you confess and it’s clear that he has a smug smirk carrying his expression. “Only because he asked,” you huff.

A light chuckle slips out and his fingers on the center console almost twitch when he hears you let one out also.

You abruptly turn towards the backseat. “Yeonie? Please turn down your tablet.” It Had been ringing in both of your ears since you got in the car. You wanted to have a proper conversation without having to scream out your words over the rhymes and overplayed sound-effects.

When she does, you finally sigh and lean back in pure exhaustion from the lack of sleep the night before.

Jungkook notices.

“You okay?” He asks.

Your eyes flutter open slowly and you nod. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I’m dealing with the repercussions of it.” Your gaze on the road soon turns blank.

If you were being honest, it’s been a long time in dealing with enough sleep. If you were in bed, you were most likely staying up, keeping yourself busy, not deeming it as a good enough reason to sleep just yet. Before, you slept easily, paying no mind to what was happening around you, you actually slept. Something changed to the point where you weren’t granted that access anymore, having to question the exact reason on why you should even sleep. You weren’t sure if you would find it, sticking with just coaxing yourself into slumber through most nights.

“You can take a nap if you want,” he suggests. “It’s going to take a while before we get there, so you might as well.”

You hum absentmindedly, barely registering any of his words if you were being honest.

Yeona yawns. He shifts his attention to the back, watching Yeona squirm for a comfortable spot - as comfortable as she can get - in her carseat. “Are you sleepy too, baby?”

She mewls out a tired noise in confirmation and leans her head to the padded side of hers. “Daddy, sing to me,” she requests, blinking, lagging until they fully close.

Jungkook’s soft hums fill up the noise of the car other than the white noise surrounding you when he drove.

Your eyes go back to closing when it hits you, a metaphorical blanket that deems where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with — as safe. Your brows furrow unconsciously at the thought that you’ve been dealing with this specific problem about your sleep for God knows how long, but Jungkook suddenly fixes it and now it’s all gone.

You finally sleep.

An hour into the drive and you suddenly ask, “Is she.. Driving on her way too?”

His eyebrows furrow and he turns to stare at you, disoriented by the question. “Who?”

You eye him wearily and tip your head forward, like it was obvious.

He’s still confused.

“Seol?” You finally spit out.

“Oh.”

That’s all he says and you grow impatient. “So?”

“She’s not coming,” he finally answers. “I didn’t invite her. Why would you think I would?”

“She wasn’t in the car when you picked us up, or at the house, so I just assumed..”

“No,” he quickly denies, looking you in the eye this time. “She’s not coming.”

“Oh—okay.” You wonder why.

It’s silent except for when his throat clears and he turns the car.

“Um,” you drag unsurely. “Are you.. Still—seeing each other?” It’s personal, and you regret asking, but for the sake of your bouncing leg and bated breath, you wait.

“I—I don’t know? I mean we’re going out, but it’s not anything official.” He looks nervous, eyes shifting back and forth from one side of a street to another.

“So.. You haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend yet?”

This is weird. Too fucking weird and now Jungkook’s acutely uneasy because there is absolutely no malice in your voice. Just curiousness being unravelled.

“No, not really,” he nervously stammers, and he tries his best to gauge your reaction but you hold absolutely nothing to read on. “I want to decide carefully.” You suddenly stare back at him and he has no choice but to continue, “Like you said. I want to make sure it’s right. No fuck-ups anymore. Not with you or Yeona.”

Your head shakes. “Jungkook, you don’t have to-“

“It’s my decision,” he firmly states, “and it’s on my terms.”

Jungkook’s mother was always a bright soul who greeted and welcomed you with open arms.

The first time you were off to meet her, you were twenty-three years old and absolutely terrified, and you made sure to tell Jungkook that before you even stepped foot in the house he grew up in.

You informed him how much bad luck you came with when it involved meeting your partner’s parents. More specifically — your past boyfriends and their overly clingy mothers who did not like you no matter what you did, as long as you were dating their son.

“My mom loves everyone,” Jungkook explained previously the night before the anticipated meeting.

You shook your head vigorously, eyes wide and anxious, shivering from having the thought of reliving something you always dreaded. “That’s what they all say before we end up arriving and then all of a sudden I’m being pounced on by an overbearing mother who obviously can’t stand the thought of having another woman in her son’s life.”

He laughed. “Your exes were probably an only child,” and then continued to inform as if it would ease your nerves, “I have an older brother.”

You shrieked. “Holy shit, that makes it even worse because you’re her youngest. The baby of the family—her baby.” He cackled and you landed a solid strike at his arm with a whine, “Jungkook, Take me serious.”

“Alright, okay,” he shushed you and tugged at your hips before closing in on you. “I can assure you that my mother isn’t some type of villain you’ve painted out in your head.”

You winced and patted his chest with a pout, “Sorry. Past minor trauma.”

“I get it,” he reassured. “But she’s different than the rest, I promise.”

And she definitely was.

The house fills with a scent of something cooking on the stove top and it immediately engulfs you in warmth when you hear the television going off in the spacious area of the living room, assuming it was Jungkook’s father planted on his signature chair he was always found in.

When Yeona finally kicks off her shoes, she immediately runs through the house to find her grandmother.

“Careful,” Jungkook calls from next to you.

He notices your dazed state and takes a step closer. “How are you feeling? Still tired?”

Your mouth falls open and you shake your head with a smile, brushing it off, “My head is aching a bit from the long car ride, but I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll sit down for a few.”

He shows concern in his expression and leans forward to inspect you carefully. “Come here.”

“I told you I’d be okay, Gguk. I’m fine.” Still, your feet take you closer towards him until calloused fingers land at your temples before applying pressure. “Mm,” you let out in surprise, lips pressed when he goes in circular motions against your skin, grappling onto one of his wrists for support. Your eyes flutter shut when the pain starts to subside. Four fingers each from both hands are firmly planted while his two thumbs continue to ease the throbbing that’s been planted in your head since you’ve gotten out of the car.

“Starting to feel better?” He murmurs softly.

You nod with the space he provided for it. “I still think I should just take some medicine.”

He doesn't stop his ministrations, only humming. “In a minute. Want to avoid my mom a bit longer before she starts to ask why I haven’t been visiting lately.”

A smile quickly settles on your lips and you squeeze at the wrist you’ve been gripping on.

It’s up close when he sees you softly giggle and his heart surges forward. Your eyes open back up and you’re suddenly staring at such a close proximity.

“She worries about you.”

“I know,” he promises. “Just not sure what to say when she starts interrogating me.”

Before your mouth can slip in an answer, a throat clears and you tense immediately.

You both stiffly turn towards the new figure in the room who raises an amused brow.

“Uh, hi Mom. Where’s Yeona?”

“With your father.”

You remember suddenly before coughing and tugging at Jungkook’s hands that stay planted against your head.

“We were just..” Jungkook attempts, wiping off his palms that have gotten significantly clammy in the span of a minute or two.

“Headache,” you finish and state for him.

“Yeah.”

“Did we go back in time before medicine was a thing?” She jokes then tilts her head towards the direction of one of the bathrooms. “There’s painkillers in the medicine cabinet.”

“Uh I’m going to.. Yeah.” Jungkook scratches at the back of his neck and seems unsure before seeing himself out to grab for the bottle of pills.

“Please, don’t give me that look,” you beg once the embarrassment settles in and your cheeks start to warm up.

“No, I’m just happy is all.” She smiles in satisfaction. “Last time I checked, you were divorced to my son.”

You groan. “And I still am.”

“Then what was that?” She refers back to the scene she had unfortunately walked in on.

“A ploy to drag out time before hearing your questions about why he hasn’t been visiting as often as he should be,” you easily tattle.

She gasps.

Jungkook walks back in with two bottles in hand, eyes bouncing back and forth to each one. “It doesn’t matter which brand right? I brought out two just in case-“

“Jeon Jungkook,” his mother scowls.

He freezes and looks up to his infuriated mother, then pointedly looks at you before the gears turn in his head.

“You told her?”

You simply shrug and snatch both bottles away before his mother would start shifting her target towards him. “Thank you.”

You don’t bother to hear the scolding, instead, walking through the house to find where your daughter had drifted off to.

Mrs. Jeon takes some time to catch up with her son and gives you enough to rest from the prolonged car ride.

Small feet tap on the wooden floor and you try to search for the doe eyes and pouty lips that come with them.

“Yeona, where have you been?”

“With grandpa!” Then, she enthusiastically stomps. “He said my gifts are hiding from me.”

You chuckle. “Is that so?”

A bigger pair of feet walk in and Mr. Jeon looks flustered, as if he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do. His head angles down to Yeona and he explains, “I messed up! I was supposed to wait for Grandma to feed you guys before I said anything about birthday presents.”

Your mouth opens to reply that he was perfectly fine before large hands settle firmly on your shoulders. You squeak and jump, registering that it was only Jungkook when you whip around to face the culprit. “Seriously?”

“It’s payback,” he simply says. “I got scolded for fifteen minutes all because you decided to be a snitch.”

“Sorry.” You softly nudge. “She was assuming too much when she saw us.”

“Ah,” he realizes, and he suddenly seems okay with the thought of going down just for you. “I’ll have to talk to her again about doing that. Sorry.”

You dismiss it with a smile. “Just more worried about you. Poor baby,” you tease. “What? Did she make you face the wall for five minutes?” He scowls. “Jungkook, she misses you,” you reason.

“I know,” he mumbles. “I promised her I would be here more often.”

He has that look in his eye you are way too familiar with — when the gears start turning and he begins to overthink his whole entire schedule for the month, figuring out the time-slots—if he even has any free space for it.

“Hey,” you call, and he snaps out of it. “Don’t try to fill your family in your schedule as if they’re appointments. You’ll visit when you want to, okay? Not because you have to.”

He exhales and nods. “Right. I will.”

He then notices your features significantly brighter than the last time he’s taken them in, no more fatigued, so he asks, “Did you take the medicine?”

You nod. “I just took it, but moving around a bit is helping a lot already.

“That’s good.”

His brows furrow when he catches the expression on his dad. “Is he okay?”

You turn and observe him tailing your hyper daughter who has been checking every crevice of the house for any mere glimpse of eye-catching wrapping paper.

“Like father, like son,” is all you say and he stares on with no clue. “He’s literally a second away from hearing his own scolding.”

Mrs. Jeon walks in and shrieks. “You told her already—?!”

The man beside you sighs and questions out loud what on earth his father had done.

So, you explain, “They put on a scavenger hunt for Yeona’s gifts. Except, it was supposed to be after lunch.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah.”

“You were supposed to wait so that I could take pictures for it!”

The older man’s hands get thrown up in defense. “She hasn’t found them yet, it’s fine.”

“What if she actually does?” She tests with a brow raised.

“Mom,” Jungkook calls and both of his parents finally turn to give him attention. “It’s alright. We can do the scavenger hunt now since we’ll be leaving soon.”

“You aren’t going to stay and eat?”

“Please don’t worry,” you kindly decline. “I’d feel bad if you were to cook something, just for us.”

She waves a hand carelessly in the air. “Nonsense! I want to do this for you. It’s been way too long since the last time I cooked for more than two people.”

Your elbow prods at Jungkook who lacks his own attention. You quickly send him a look, a silent message to stop her from whipping anything up when you wouldn’t have much time to properly eat it, given from your strict itinerary.

“We only have half an hour to be here before the next Ferry arrives,” he finally speaks up.

“Oh,” his mother dejects with a pout. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“Yeah, sorry mom.”

Your hip pushes against his side, and your throat clears. “We’ll come back and stay for dinner,” you promise.

“Please do,” she nods. “My son doesn’t even visit anymore.”

She plainly ignores Jungkook, whose mouth has dropped significantly. “Mom—! I told you I would visit more often.”

“Can’t even make a simple phone call,” she tsks. “Your ex-wife interacts with me at least three times a week—more than you ever did within a month.”

“Mom!”

Your hand lands on top of his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze and sending his mother a smile of understanding. “We’ll be there. Promise.”

She sighs, hands smacking against her fruity apron and then clapping enthusiastically. “Alright, fine! Let me get my camera first.”

Her son groans. “Just use your phone.”

Her head shakes, already bending down and shuffling through the drawers, “But you got me that nice camera for Christmas! I haven’t used it yet.”

“Alright, fine,” he reluctantly obliges. “Dad, will you please give my daughter a hint? She’s going crazy here.” He points and your daughter is exactly there, crawling through the coffee table and easing herself to the next tiny space she can fit in.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt yourself,” you warn when she breezes through a few expensive-looking structures around the house, “Or break something.. Jungkook—!” You tug on his sleeve and push him to grab her before any mishaps could happen.

When Jungkook finally gets a hold of a squirmy Yeona, his father finally ushers everybody outside towards the direction of the backyard where the scavenger hunt is officially located.

“They just texted me that they’re already at the house,” Jungkook suddenly announces by the time Yeona finds her fourth present.

You double-check the time on your phone and worriedly ask, “Do you think we’re running late?”

His head shakes. “I doubt it. If anything, we’re probably on time. We left really early in the morning.”

You sigh out with both shoulders deflating and he notices. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you ease. “Just worried, you know? This is the first year we aren’t doing a birthday party and she’s only turning six.”

“Hey,” he chuckles. “It’s not like these aren’t going to be a forever thing.”

“I know,” you groan and rub harshly at your temples. “I think I’m just so used to big gatherings, the amount of unnecessary attention, and the cake nobody eats because it’s all it really was for me growing up.” As much as the parties were for good intentions, it was never in a good way.

The only reason your mother was set on giving you a birthday party every year was for the pictures and some way into measly bragging about how well her life was going and not everybody else’s.

“And in no way I’m saying it as a way for Yeona to live through whatever I went through, but every year I try my best to plan something she wants.” You rub at your elbow unsurely with lips turned downwards. “For some reason, her not asking for one this year makes me think how much she didn’t like the others and how shitty I am for not seeing it much earlier.”

Yeona giggles when she picks out another that happens to be sneakily hidden snug between a few branches of a tree.

He shakes his head and calls for you softly. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen her happier with every passing birthday you manage to outdo every year. Our daughter also has incredible confrontational skills - If she doesn’t like something, she’ll tell us regardless.”

You snort. “Right.” You grow nervous how serious he becomes when you catch onto his eyes and his front faces you so suddenly.

“She loves what you do every year,” he assures. He then reasons, “And maybe next year it’ll be different — she’s growing up.”

You slowly nod, handing him a laugh of disbelief. “Yeah. God, you’re right. Sorry.”

“Even standing here with a headache, you’re still worrying for nothing,” he scolds.

“I told you I already feel better,” you argue in return. “The medicine helped a bunch. I’m okay.” And for the next ten minutes, you ignore the side-eye full of concern overpowering on his side when he shoots you a glance. He’s known you since the start of his twenties, of course he would be able to pick out if you were lying or not.

“What’s the count?” Jungkook asks, eyes squinting from the bright sun casting down at the colorful yard.

His mother points the camera at him and raises a hand, “Number Five!”

“And how much in total?”

She pouts. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if I told you.”

“Mom.”

You shush him. “Leave her alone.”

“Six! Six! Six!” Yeona yells near the fence.

“You found the sixth one, sweetheart!” Jungkook’s father exclaims.

His mother curses and whips the camera back around. “I missed it!”

It’s comical when you watch it from afar, and a large smile blooms across your face at the three. “God,” you snort, quite endeared by the sight, “This is a mess. It’s cute.”

Jungkook stays behind alongside you to simply observe you and them, and he’s already memorizing every part and aspect of this moment to set aside for later.

Everything fell into place so perfectly, everybody belonging exactly where they were supposed to be.

“You really do look pretty today, _____.”

Eyes widening, you whip around to his figure with a questioned gaze.

He’s willing to repeat the words, let you know over and over until you grow tired of the repetitiveness, drown you in all of the compliments he’s thinking of right now.

But, you curtly nod and turn away. “T-Thanks.”

His hand reaches out, exactly to where yours is and his sight subconsciously falls on your fourth finger that was blank of a specific jewelry he put on you two years ago. It’s already been two fucking years and he still grows somber when his eyes catch onto where the diamond used to be.

No matter how many times he can confront it with his own eyes, stare at it for however long you would allow him to look, seek it every time it would raise or show itself — It still hurts nonetheless.

It’s exactly what makes him pull back and grip onto the chain tucked into his shirt, away from your eyes to see the charm that glints exactly like the first day you put it on him.

Finally having it be the middle of the day, you get to leave and head towards the station to get from Busan to Jeju.

The station is way more quiet than what you initially anticipated, it being the weekend and all, but the line barely lasts a minute, and you’re already boarding the ferry, right behind Yeona who holds her father’s hand tightly across the dock that transitions to the ship.

“Snacks?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks for when you all sit down and you quickly reach into Yeona’s backpack.

“All I have our a few baggies of rice-puffs and juice-boxes.”

“I want one!” Yeona intercepts, and greedy hands suddenly wave in front of your face.

“Alright, baby, hold on a minute.” You request and stare back up at Jungkook to propose the idea of sharing a muffin his mother offered last-minute when you slipped through the door to part ways. “There’s only two juice-boxes.”

Jungkook’s head shakes, going to decline the kind offer and allow you to have it before Yeona perks sweetly, “Daddy can share with me!”

His thumb and pointer softly caresses the supple cheek beneath it before landing a kiss on it and murmuring, “Always so sweet.”

Sitting back down, Yeona on Jungkook’s lap while you sit side-to-side, plastic cover of the muffin opened and lips pursed out to your own straw.

With Jungkook’s hands full, squirming daughter all over his lap, you make it easier for him by popping small pieces of the muffin in his open mouth.

You let out a laugh when you miss and watch a few chocolate crumbs dribble down his chin. “Sorry,” you murmur with a smile, fingers rubbing off some of where the chocolate smeared against his skin.

“Do you need a tissue?”

Turning to the nimble voice, you notice an elderly lady with a soft smile she carries so sweetly. “I’m sorry,” she laughs off. “I just noticed how much of a mess you’ve made on your husband.”

You both don’t flinch at the assumption, smiling back at her.

“Oh,” your voice brightens with a laugh of your own and bowing in your seat slightly, “Thank you so much for offering.”

She brings out a few from her own bag and reaches out over the seats, “Here.”

“Thank you again,” Jungkook says and she looks at you expectantly, practically requesting you to wipe off his mouth yourself. You jump at the realization and clear your throat with whatever protest that bubbled from within, and start with stiff fingers. You’ve already stuffed pieces of muffin in his mouth, what harm would it be to clean up the mess you’ve made? Except it’s completely different, not very easy doing the simple action with a bright-eyed old woman who seems very entertained by the aspect of it, all life returning to them when the tissue rubs at his bottom lip.

“Daddy,” Yeona taps. “Want off.”

His gentle grip on her tummy loosens and allows her to slide off of his legs to approach the woman. Your daughter gently waves and let’s her smile speak for itself, so easy to sway the woman when she was so used to doing this to every other person she meets daily.

“Hi there.” The woman waves back and bends her back more forward to reach Yeona’s level. “Where are you off to today?”

“Jeju!” She exclaims, and then boasts proudly, “It’s my birthday.”

The woman eggs her giddiness on by clapping gently, “Oh wow. What a wonderful place to celebrate your birthday!”

“Yes ma’am,” she agrees sweetly, hands clasped behind her back. “I told my Mommy and Daddy to bring me there and they said yes! We even rode all together here!”

The woman spares you an odd look at the figures Yeona points at, and you both refrain meeting her eyes that read about obviously riding together, you were married with a kid after all.

At least, to her eyes you were.

Unfortunately, the both of you lacked the guts to tell her the truth, and that this was just another day to simply tolerate each other more than you already do during the week.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The woman hums. “Your parents must love you a lot then. They look good together, too.”

It all seems too much, as if she was mocking you, and you immediately grow antsy at her nosy stare.

Luckily, after Yeona had her fair share in her frankly short conversation with the older woman, she left all of you alone for the rest of the ride.

“That was—” Jungkook starts.

“—Definitely new,” you finish.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to the assumptions of us still being together. It’s hard not to just blatantly say no so that they could get off of our backs for once.”

Your voice lowers a bit, just to make sure she can’t hear you from her corner-seat. “But we also have to understand their point,” you reason, “When people see both of us with a daughter, it’s easier to assume that we’re together.”

His head leans on the metal rod behind him, still listening with his eyes closed.

“Besides, I don’t really mind.”

His head shoots back into position and he stares with widened eyes. “Y-You don’t?”

Shrugging, your head shakes. “It’s better this way. I’d rather just go along with it than explain exactly why we’re separated, let them into something they have no business in being in.”

“Right,” he drags it. “Exactly,” and he says it more for himself to grip on, because fucking obviously. Not for any other reason but for convenience. Always for the best, and he was fine with it. Perfectly keen.

His head turns towards the water, and he squints, legs bouncing obnoxiously, Yeona whines. It’s only then you realize he’s decked out in all black, as usual, with beads of sweat running off his temple and onto his neck. It’s only worse when he’s seated exactly right under the sun, where the roof fails to give him any shade.

“You idiot,” you suddenly call and his brows furrow, whipping around to find you in a state of absolute worry, searching through your bag. “Out of all days, when we’d be outside, you’re wearing everything you’re not supposed to.”

His eyes widen and he stares down at his attire, sizzling back down into realization when he finally realizes the problem. “I’m fine,” he passes off cooly. “Yeona wanted the seat nearest to the water, and I figured you wouldn’t want to be under the sun this long.”

Before he can even come out with an argument, you’re already moving forward and grabbing Yeona off of his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” you pat on his thigh, silently coaxing him to scoot. “We’ll trade spots. You can’t be under the sun like this.”

“_____..”

Your lips purse and stray down into a pout, and his heart falters, his argument pushed down his throat until he swallows it away. “Jungkook, I’m worried. I don’t even think you put on sunscreen today either.”

He’s fully aware how irked you get when he doesn’t follow the skincare regimen you set up for him. It’s especially the distress you hold in your eyes and lips when he forgoes the most important step of it all: suncare.

“Shit doesn’t even work,” he exasperates, and your eyes roll back.

“Say that to me when you’re fifty and covered with sun spots you’ll never be able to erase because you never wanted to listen to me.”

His bite comes without even a second thought, falling back into the banter he secretly misses, when it was comfortable to joke around you, tease you to no end, and drive you up the wall. “You’ll still like me that way, right?” He’s teasing now, and it’s clear when he raises his brows in expectancy, lighthearted and jokeful.

To your embarrassment, your cheeks tint pink and you don’t have enough pride to return his stare. The only thing you can really do is stammer severely and point at your purse. “J-Just put some on and leave me alone.”

He hands you a hearty and genuine laugh and you only try your best to ignore it, lips curving the same until you force them to stop from going any higher.

“Holy shit,” you gape. “It’s huge.”

“They’re loaded.”

“I-I can’t go in this, Jungkook.”

“You couldn’t have told me this before we went on a whole road trip and had me prepay tickets for a ferry ride here?”

You hit his arm. “Jungkook, I’m serious.”

He laughs. “Why exactly can’t you? It’s just a beach house.”

“This is too big for a six year old! A few candles from the fucking mall is never going to pay off the fact they are letting us have it for the weekend.”

“With their advision,” he reminds. Yeona stirs in her sleep from the backseat and Jungkook pins you a look. “Can we get out now?”

You hesitate. “How are you okay without thinking about being possibly indebted to Seokjin and Namjoon? First, they put out a car for us to drive here when we arrived, and now we’re staying in this? We’re being pampered.”

“Because I’ve been leeching off of Seokjin since I was a teenager, _____,” he states, nimbly remembering when he would depend on a few meals paid from him and even to now - being roommates with the older man. “He’s fine with it. He offered first, after all. We’re just following orders,” he defends so easily.

Reluctantly, you climb out of the car, crossed arms from your chest, heading towards the back to take out your daughter from her carseat. With a soft nudge and a kiss to her cheek, her eyes shot back open with the realization that this was the last stop, that she was finally here. “M-Mommy, look!”

“I know,” you coo, “I was just as shocked as you are now.”

She moves quickly, already releasing the buckle and sliding down to the car floor. She still requests to be picked up like a princess when her arms span out for you, and of course, you oblige.

“Jungkook,” you call. “Are you getting the bags?”

The trunk shuts, keys jingling in his hand, “Already on it.”

When you reach the porch, Yeona eagerly leans towards the right of the door to ring the bell.

It only takes three seconds for Kim Seokjin to open it with a wide smile. “Welcome!”

Yeona squeals, legs kicking all over the place and you finally set her down for her to enter first. Not before giving her uncle’s leg a big squeeze of her own, “Thank you, Uncle Jinnie! Love it so much!”

He chuckles, smoothing down her hair, “Anything for the birthday girl! You haven’t even taken a look around yet, sweetheart. Go find Uncle Joon and he’ll show you everything.”

“Okay!” Her form is only a blur when she rushes out.

He smiles. “You guys are on time,” and he says it like it’s a complete surprise.

A brow arches. “When are we not?”

“New years,” he recalls. “You both made it five minutes late after the countdown.”

Jungkook slips behind you to set the bags down. “That’s not fair.”

You agree. “Yeona was two years old that year. She had a hard time handling the fireworks. I had to coax her to sleep through the phone that night.”

His head tilts in reason, “Fair.”

Jungkook nudges you. “Where do you want these?”

You shrug, turning to Seokjin. “Depends where you want us, Jin.”

“It’s up to you guys. Taehyung and Jimin already took two of the guest rooms. There’s only three more.”

“Kiumin is sleeping over, so they can have one room,” you calculate. “And Hyejin’s coming with Kiumin, so we can split.”

The older man stares wide-eyed at his roommate. Jungkook stares back with the same expression, so Seokjin asks for him, “Split?”

You’re too busy with some of the messages on your phone regarding birthday wishes to your daughter, vaguely returning them with typed out thank you’s and kissy faces. “Yeah.”

“Does that mean you and—“

You send him an odd stare before turning around and grabbing onto your own bags, disregarding Jungkook’s. “Of course not—? I’m rooming with Hyejin and Jungkook can have the extra room to himself.”

“.. Right.”

“Is it this way?” You ask without a clue to the men behind you.

“Uh, yeah! Let me help you,” Seokjin rushes.

Jungkook is left at the doorway, all alone and with his own bags and a fuming heart that drags as if the slim possibility of what would have happened was anything more to go by.

It’s nighttime now.

You’ve directed Hyejin to your room and have let her unpack while you watched over Yeona and her little boy.

Your knees bend into a crouch, the familiar smell of chlorine filling your senses when you near the water.

Jungkook's hair flicks back when his fingers push through them and the blue rays of the water reflect against his chest. His collarbones glisten against the minimal light the night provides, making it harder to strictly set your eyes forward and stray away from anything that wasn’t his own.

“You couldn’t have waited a second for everyone to settle in before dipping into the pool?”

He pouts. “Why?”

Head tilting, you pin him a stare and direct your eyesight towards the pink floatie in the corner, swaying calmly. “Because Yeona’s been eyeing that giant flamingo and now she’s asking to hop in with you.”

“Let her in, then. Namjoon’s already here.”

Your head turns to the outdoor bar and they pin the figure reading a book with amusement when he sends off a small wave.

“But then Kiumin..”

Hyejin walks in with a relaxed sigh at the sight in front of her when she passes through the widened double-doors. “Too bad it’s nighttime. I could’ve been tanning.”

“Hyejin!” You gawk at her bikini. “You’re going in too?”

She nods in an obvious answer. “Kiumin’s been begging me to let him jump in since we’ve gotten here, and with a view like this — how could I say no?”

Jungkook points. “See? Our friend is obviously taking the advantage of being here.”

“We are way far from friends, Jeon,” she practically snarls back. “It’s almost insulting when you say it like that.”

“Hyejin,” you warn, and turn back to the man standing in the waist-deep side of the pool now.

Ignoring your friend’s hatred fueled statements, he coaxes. “Come on,” he lulls. “Taehyung and Jimin are already planning to jump in too.”

Your head shakes in decline, “I can’t. I didn’t even pack a swimsuit, only Yeona’s.”

“I have one laying out for you in the room,” Hyejin pitches and your eyes widen significantly. “It’s the one I’ve been meaning to give you.”

“Perfect!” Seokjin claps by the doors, tray full of glasses and the two children following right behind him. “We can start having a pool party!” They immediately cheer and your mind starts to reel in defeat.

You rub your arms shyly, “I-I’m fine. I don’t really feel like swimming right now..”

Hyejin snorts. “Don’t even lie. We used to be obsessed with the pool when we were kids. We can do it again for old times’ sake! Show our kids where they got it from.”

“Literally, what does that have to do with anything in wanting to swim? Aren’t kids naturally drawn to the pool, because it’s a pool?” You grit.

“I’m just saying to take the chance and relax,” she stresses and her arms extend, waving around carelessly. “We’re here!”

“You’re going to miss out if you don’t get in,” Jungkook bets, and he knows how much you despise being the outsider while everyone had their share of fun. You loathed the plain idea of it. “Just put the bikini on and stop being a pussy.”

“J-Jungkook!”

Childish. Absolutely childish.

You hear footsteps approaching right behind you, the vow reaching your ears. “I’ll only jump in if we do it together.”

Taehyung’s head shakes side to side, eyes narrowing at the shorter man with apprehension. “You pull back every fucking time we do it. I won’t fall for it again.”

Jungkook’s throat clears at the two and he orders his friends, “Tell _____ to get in the pool.”

Taehyung’s brow furrows, “She doesn’t want to? It’s the pool—and we’re in Jeju!”

You stubbornly shake your head. “Don’t care.”

Jimin has a teasing glint in his eye, something you dislike a lot when it’s crystal clear he has something stirring up in his sick head of his, especially since Taehyung had turned down the proposal of his playful and expectant joke.

“We can—grab her and push her in?” He suggests.

“That’s elementary school shit, Jimin,” you warn. “Get away from me.”

He’s inching closer and you’re nervously sputtering for Jungkook, helplessly calling for him to get his friend from throwing you in the water so carelessly.

Luckily, a small hand grapples onto you and it’s Yeona with eager feet who stops Jimin in his tracks. “Mommy, t-the pink birdie!”

You have a staring contest with it, the one side of the floating flamingo’s eye stares back at you and you exhale a puff before finally standing back up. “Alright, come on. Let’s get dressed.”

The white bikini on you terrifies you enough to cross your arms over yourself and skirt around the edge of the pool until you reach the chairs where Hyejin sits.

No one’s noticed yet. Not when Jungkook and the rest were already in the pool, putting on the floaties for the children who sat on the pathed ledges made of stone. At some point, you can see both of Jungkook’s eyes completely wiped out and squeezed shut when Yeona excitedly flaps her arms around the water, hyper to get in.

“Hyejin,” you hiss out, finally reaching your friend.

She hums with furrowed brows, too distracted in trying to connect her phone to the bluetooth speaker.

“Why in the world would you give me something like this. I-It’s too much,” you whimper out weakly.

Her eyes roll back. “It’s a bikini, _____. Remember those? I bet you look great—“ She screeches, chin dropping, hands hovering over her mouth. You flinch, just as shocked as she was, shushing her to shut up before anyone even has the chance in blinking your way.

“Holy shit.”

Eyes squeezing shut, you shy in on yourself, carefully taking the wooden pool-chair beside her. “Please, shut up.”

Her arms raise, “I haven’t said anything—yet.”

You scowl. “You seriously couldn’t have given me any other fucking set? Like a wetsuit? This is too weird for me.”

She cackles. “Relax,” she attempts to ease. “Why are you so freaked out? It’s just a swimsuit.”

Your head knocks back against the wood and you sigh tiredly. “It’s been way too long since I’ve worn something like this. Something not.. Mom-ish.”

“And why not? This literally proves how much of a Milf you really are!” She stresses.

You shrug shyly. “I haven’t had much of a reason to.”

“Well, I’m begging you to. Seriously, _____,” she reassures.

You quietly break into a laugh, smacking at her arm harshly.

“Where’s mommy?” You hear Jungkook suddenly ask, and you think you’re a hundred percent fucked.

Yeona’s voice is muffled against your ex-husband’s chest, incoherently explaining, “Mommy was already running away when we got outside.”

“Running away?”

“Yeah! Kind’ve like a ninja. She was there and then—poof!”

You don’t even announce your bathroom break to Hyejin, standing up and rushing over towards the doors that were close yet so far away.

It would only be a second before you would reach it, and straight into changing back to the sundress that was always deemed as safe.

Part of you wishes that you could parade around with no care, being so long since you’ve gone out in something like this. But another part that tears you completely, thinks about Kim Seol and how different she is compared to you.

With stark personalities and looks, you most likely would have never even thought about comparing you from her. But now that Jungkook was going out with her, everything’s changed, and your mind reels into thinking how in the world he had the chance of going to someone else completely different from you, and if he even liked you in the first place, relationship and marriage long forgotten, not even being considered in this context.

You weren’t exactly sure how long this feeling would last, and maybe it wouldn’t, sticking to all of the new relationships he would continue to open up now that he was available.

Sure, he’s seen you plenty of times in bed and in the shower from the past years of being together. But this is now and before he had anything younger, more vibrant.

This was possibly the only thing you could take away from him. Seeing anything physical to compare you with another was the only thing you truly, absolutely wished for.

You accidentally collide against something. Hard and wide.

And when you eventually look up, you’re relieved to only find Namjoon with a bag of chips in hand.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, Joon. Sorry for—running?”

He chuckles, pointing back to his boyfriend back inside of the house. “Save it for the lifeguard, but he’s off-duty right now mixing margaritas for everyone.”

You attempt to let out the same energy of a laugh as his, but it all turns dry and brittle, making him halt and inspect. “You okay, _____?”

“O-Of course I am.”

A few murmurs are made at the back of your figure until a small voice calls out, “Mommy! Over here!”

Letting out a small gasp, you reluctantly turn around, weakly mustering a smile and avoiding the eyes that officially lay on you when he notices.

“Hi, baby.”

“Mommy!” She splashes. “Swim with me and daddy!”

“U-Uh..”

“Looks like your daughter wants you to get in the pool.”

Turning back to Namjoon, you stiffly nod, “Yeah.”

“If you’re worried about the temperature, don’t worry. It’s heated.”

Far from your true concern, you manage to give him a thumbs-up and head back to the very place you’ve been trying to escape.

“I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Let me go get Aunt Hyejin first.” It’s truly for your sake more than for hers, a cry for help in a situation you could have easily avoided if you had just never put the bikini on. “I hate this,” you managed to mutter against your breath when you finally reached her. “I’m never listening to you ever again.”

She yelps when you rip the towel away from her, tugging tightly at her arm, urging her to get up. “Hey!” She pouts.

“Come on,” you order. “Yeona wants to swim and I am not doing this alone.”

She sits up and observes, quietly biting on a sly chuckle when she notices.

“What now?”

“Nothing,” she waves off. “It’s just—your ex is making googly eyes right now.”

You groan, stomping impatiently. “Hyejin, stop lying and get up.”

“I’m not lying,” she pleads. “I swear — I’m looking at him right now!”

“I don’t care,” you deadpan.

When she finally stands, you put a death-grip on her arm and timidly walk towards the pool.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” you sheepishly say, releasing a bit.

It’s a pleasant feeling when the warm water wets the bottom surface of your feet, and your shoulders subconsciously relax when your waist-deep.

Hyejin coos at her little boy, proud of her son when she watches Jimin help, something more in her eyes that go starry at the man who leads him through the water.

“Thanks, Hyejin,” you whisper.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she pats softly at your arm. “I know how nervous you are and all. Just don’t, okay? You’ll be fine.”

You weakly smile at her again before finally sending her off.

When she moves out of your view and directly towards Jimin and her son, you find Yeona eagerly waiting for you.

Taehyung has his eyes blown at the sight of you, whistling with your name trapped between his lips, which exactly makes you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. Of course, he’s teasing, the natural flirt in him most likely powering over him.

Fortunately, you’re saved when he gets whacked with a strong push of water, Jungkook’s doing. You don’t notice it when your daughter cutely dog-paddles towards you.

All is forgotten, smile setting on your lips.

“Mommy! Stay right there, okay? I’ll swim to you.”

“Oh,” you perk, arms already rising beneath the water. With the long distance, you subtly move forward when her legs kick to make it easier on her, and within a few seconds, she’s splashing against your arms with a squeal.

You giggle. “Are you having fun?”

“So much, mommy!” She exclaims. “Daddy threw me up high when I wanted a splash.”

You gasp with a smile, nerves diminishing. “Really? I wish I was there to see it.”

“Are you too cold?” A voice asks from behind her and you hesitantly face Jungkook, always polite and concerned for your well-being, except there was definitely something else in his eyes you weren’t able to pinpoint and didn’t bother to anyway, now that you were in the water.

You stiffly smile and shake your head. “I’m fine. The water feels really nice.”

He nods. “T-That’s good.”

God, he feels like it’s high school all over again, having no utter idea in starting a conversation with a girl, wanting to, but not even knowing exactly how.

Still, he can’t stop the burning stare, even when your attention zeroes back in on Yeona.

The nice music sets a comforting nuance around the place, hearing splashes coming from everywhere, specifically when Seokjin’s yelling resonates from the chairs when Taehyung targets him with a cheeky grin.

“The slices of watermelon are here, you dick!” He scowls.

Jimin butts in with a scold to the older man, telling him to censor his words around the children.

Jungkook doesn’t have time to hear the continued argument when he’s hit with an expectant splash of water of his own.

He doesn’t even need to ask a second later when he hears the both of you giggling. Wiping away the drops on his face and in his eyes, he brushes strands of hair back to get a good look at the satisfied looks on both of your faces. He approaches slowly.

Your head shakes, already aware of what Jungkook was doing — getting his revenge.

“I-It was Yeonie’s idea!”

She only giggles louder, knowing fully well she would easily be the untouched one out of this.

“Jungkook, I swear to god if you do anything to me-“

Your warning goes straight out when strong arms turn you around to face your daughter. Fully wrapping them around your form for a slim chance of being able to escape, you hear a soft chuckle against your ear.

“I think it’d be fun to splash mommy, huh?” He teases and you tense.

“Jungkook—!”

“Yeah, let’s do it!” She pumps a tiny fist from out of the water.

“Sweetheart, no! Listen to me-“

Your nose scrunches, hair whipping with you to cover your face when she splashes. Jungkook helps along the way by releasing an arm and moving some of the water forward against you to hit you square in the face. His wave comes stronger and does an excellent job at soaking you completely.

You gasp, wiping some of the water away from your face. “Okay, please, I’m sorry,” you whine, gripping his wrists softly, eyes squeezed shut.

He falters at the frail sight of you, easily making you his biggest weakness.

“It’s okay, mommy,” Yeona speaks up first. “I forgive you.”

“Hey!” You scoff with a pout. “It wasn’t even my idea.”

Her eyes crease and she giggles loudly.

“_____!” Hyejin suddenly calls, and your chin tilts up to find your best friend. “Kiumin wants to play with the birthday girl.”

Yeona eagerly looks up at you and you simply nod with a smile, letting her small legs kick and float over to her best friend.

“Ah,” you realize, now being all alone. “I think I should go now.”

Still, with his arms wrapped around you, he leans closer, “What, why?” And it’s needy, wanting to pull you closer than what he already has. “Can’t you stay?”

“Yeona’s all the way over there and we’re..” Exes with barely anything to talk about or to get along in general. It wasn’t in the book you’ve written out for yourself and probably never will be. “I-I have to get her cake ready. Your mom worked really hard on it.”

“I’ll help you put the candles on it,” he quickly offers. “Just.. Just stay here with me for a while.”

A brow raises and you turn in his arms. “And do what?”

He feigns in thinking about it, sharp jaw tilting for you to settle your eyes on.

Seokjin interrupts with a call of his name and a raised brow at the sight.

You clear your tight throat and gulp when he hands Jungkook a towel. “Your phone is ringing,” and then carefully gives it to him over the water.

You observe him as he answers. “Hello?”

A female voice is heard on the other end and you sense the way he pulls back a bit, that it was Seol. Her muffled voice is enough to push you back into reality and to what exactly you were doing before the call.

“Ah, hey..” He awkwardly greets, nodding to whatever she was saying. Your head turns away when his eyes land on yours and you feign interest at the potted plant set right next to the door that led inside. “I’m at the house now with.. Everyone else.”

He chokes up a bit when she says another thing, and you don’t understand until he returns the words.

“I—I miss you too.”

Swallowing harshly, your expression hardens, and you begin to pull back.

“I’ll call you later tonight, alright?” He assures, almost in a rush. Your ears catch some of her words, not really interested in any of the conversation anyway, wanting to create a distance between you and Jungkook before anything else would happen, before you would hear something else you wouldn’t want to be hearing at all.

Finally hanging up, he takes a slow breath in and sets the phone at the side of the pool.

You finally pull away from him completely.

“_____.”

You give a curt smile. “Yeah?”

His head shakes. “Nothing. It’s just.. Are you okay?”

You nod, slightly with bewildering eyes, asking, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, you laugh softly. “We’re not married anymore, Jungkook.” He stiffens, jaw ticking and eyes shifting to catch your flat expression. “And from what I clearly remember — you’re seeing someone else.” You point towards the phone laying carelessly on top of the stone.

For once, you feel bad for the poor girl who’s probably wondering when his goodnight text from him would be.

You keep your eyes on his hands that sink and submerge into the water, and back to his sides.

“Just because it’s our daughter's birthday does not entail us playing family again,” you mumble. “You took that all away from me two years ago, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say anything, shamefully looking down at the waves in the pool caused by Yeona a few feet away. A reminder that was given way too late.

You nod again, turning slowly around. “I’m going to go get the cake ready. I’ll ask Hyejin to help.”

With the distance you’ve given him, he finally looks up and finds a disapproving look being given by his own roommate, who had seen and observed every single second of the two of you together since being in the pool.

He understood exactly why.

Everybody eventually makes their way out of the pool and back into the house to hang out at.

The same subtle music speakers through the house, the kids being fully entertained by the large television in the living room, and the inside of the house being overall in a mood and feeling that definitely differs from your own thoughts that constantly circle around your head.

Whatever Jungkook was getting at in the pool, definitely wasn’t sitting with you right. And frankly, everything leading up to it too.

The process of the divorce was already stripping and tiring enough, finalizing the documents and who would get exactly what was already overwhelming enough, but to throw all of that away and not even consider it when you’re wrapped in the arms you were so accustomed to was entirely stressful.

It didn’t make sense. It never did when it came to him.

“Yeonie, are you getting sleepy already?” You ask across the room from the kitchen as you watch your little girl yawn and squirm on top of the fluffy carpet she lays on.

Her head stubbornly shakes with a pout set on her lips.

Glancing at the clock sat beside her, it was only eight, but judging from the exertion taken place at the pool, Yeona must have been exhausted.

Your feet move to where she lays lazily, crouching down and moving her towards your lap, you murmur, “Stay awake for me, baby. You haven’t even blown the candles or opened your presents yet.”

She yawns in protest and nuzzles her nose further into your neck. “Not even a nap?”

Chuckling softly, probably making it worse for her when your fingers trace against her back, you repeat, “Not even a nap.” Saying it exactly knowing what that would entail, Yeona misinterpreting what a nap and sleep was more often than not.

Jungkook comes back with damp hair and sweats, black socks shuffling through the floor until they reach you.

“Hey,” you greet, looking down at the sleepy-head in your arms. “She’s tired.”

He hums, crouching down with an endeared smile. “I can see.”

“I swear,” you promise to Yeona, patting her back. “Dinner is almost done and then you can go to sleep, alright?” Your eyes search for Jungkook’s and you request, “Keep her awake while I get everything ready?”

His arms stretch and extend out, and you pass off the small body in your arms.

His lips instinctively purse to a gentle shush and rocks her gently when he feels her squirm.

You glare. “I said keep her awake, not encourage her to count the sheep.”

He winces. “This is new! Usually I’m doing the exact opposite.” He lifts her head, and begins his futile attempts in keeping her eyes open. “Alright, sweetheart. What mommy says, it always goes, so you’re going to have to help me out here, okay?”

She mumbles incoherently.

“Come on,” he nudges, “Up.”

“Play that dancing game she likes,” you suggest.

Taehyung from the couch, perks at that. “God, I love that game,” inputting himself in the conversation and inviting himself a second later, “Please count me in.”

“You think they have any games like that for kids?” He specifies with a swift look at his friend and Taehyung sends a throw pillow his way.

Seokjin quickly dissipates it with a scold of how much the pillows cost and which country they were exactly from.

You eye the bar full of wires and game controllers, easily making the assumption quickly, “With the eight different consoles I’m staring at, they must.”

His head dips down. “How does that sound, baby? You want to dance?”

Yeona’s completely untouchable when she’s grumpy, so it doesn’t come to a surprise when her arms reels back to try to smack her father away from talking to her anymore.

Luckily, he dodges it.

But as her eyes open wider and catches an eyeful of Jungkook dancing along with Kiumin and Taehyung twenty minutes later, she ends up joining them in the end, the same jittery moves she first walked in with.

You pull Hyejin out of her light conversation with Jimin, opting to question her tinted cheeks for later when it would be time to head to bed.

Of course, Hyejin will want to pry whenever and wherever, deeming it acceptable when it’s noisy enough with the conversations and laughs airing through it. “Want to talk about it?” Hyejin, located beside you who unwraps the carefully decorated box, asks carefully.

You feign cluelessness to the subject. “Not sure about what.”

She pins you a stare. “Come on. I saw what happened. Everybody did.”

Shrugging, you grab the candles, sticking them carefully, three on top and three at the bottom. You would’ve gotten the actual number six, but Jungkook had argued that it would be more fun for your daughter to blow as many candles as she can, the singular candle not being enough for a kid’s satisfaction.

“I don’t know,” you start unsurely. “It’s just weird, is all. It’s always hot and cold when I’m with him — having weird moments happen every so often and reminding him where the line starts and ends, and then acting perfectly poised when Yeona’s there.”

Her back hits the counter as she leans, arms crossed and head shaking. “This needs to stop, _____,” she says honestly. “He can’t keep going back and forth like this, completely forgetting everything else that happened — you’re broken up for a reason.”

“Forget it,” you dismiss with a bite to your lip. “It’s not like I stopped him on time. For a second, I forgot about everything too.”

She’s visibly stumped, stern expression faltering and letting the silence bloom, other than the outdated pop music and stomping in the background.

“_____..”

“I’m not going to sit here and blame him for every little thing that I could have controlled myself if I just stayed in my own lane,” distressed hands and fingers pull against your hair and you sigh out, eyes closing shut and feet swaying a little. The throbbing in your head continues and pulls at you venomously, like it couldn’t get enough from the first time.

Hyejin’s eyes widen and she rushes over to you in full concern. “Babe, are you okay?”

You nod, even if your furrowed brows clearly show the opposite. “Of course,” you pass off, eyes darting to the same place they’ve been at all night.

He’s still dancing and smiling.

“He’s not my husband anymore.”

And you say it again, wanting it to stick inside of your head until it fully processes, that it’s your fault just as much as his, for playing against the papers and agreements you’ve spent so many nights and days over. A constant reminder for the rest of your life, and not the other. Not the one that consists of vows and promises. Never that one anymore.

You muster a quick smile, turning to her gaping mouth who yearns to reach out, but you refuse it when you turn the corner, beginning to set everything up at the main table.

“Is the birthday girl ready?” Your voice drags, upbeat lilt feigning the pounding in your head.

High pitched squeals resound from the main room and their small feet bounce against the hardwood.

Jungkook follows suit.

“Me!” Yeona calls excitedly, “It’s me, Mommy!”

“Woah,” Kiumin gapes. “You’re cake is awesome, Yeonie!”

She giggles and hops on her tippy-toes to get a peek, “Thanks! My grandma made it.”

“Oh,” Kiumin nods. “She’s awesome.”

You chuckle softly at the kids, smiling down at the cute cake. You go to pull out your phone for pictures and videos to make sure she would see her work being fully appreciated.

Jungkook hoists Yeona up on the chair, her lifted cheeks and glittering eyes proving her excitement when she sees the candles already lit.

“Has it already been six years, already?” Seokjin asks in disbelief, plates and forks already in his hand to set down on the table.

You nod, pouting and squishing one of her cheeks, “Already a big girl.”

Yeona hums, “Basically a grown-up now!”

Hyejin bursts in laughter, everybody following right behind.

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, arms circling around her softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Fondly staring down at his rapidly growing little girl, the same feeling you hold to your chest. “Don’t need to rub it into our faces, miss.”

Your camera clicks on its own, a fond smile subconsciously forming.

“Are we ready to sing?” Namjoon timidly asks. You turn to find him weary at the sight on the wax that begins to drip rapidly. “It’s just—the candles are starting to melt.”

You laugh, nodding. “Alright, let’s sing.”

It starts off normal, a little bit muted, until Kiumin bursts into a full performance for his best friend. Until Seokjin follows along and throws in an impromptu dance routine. Her father and the others join in right after, impressed at how eerily good it actually looked, almost looking rehearsed. But then you familiarize yourself with the sharp moves, the hands and arms showcasing that it was the corny traffic dance Seokjin taught them all a few years back on one drunk night.

Until eventually everybody does their best in throwing Yeona in a fit of giggles.

You join her side and guide her into making a wish, clamping her hands shut and scrunching her eyes closed, until the commotion quiets and she opens her eyes with hopefulness written all over it.

Kiumin is the first to question through the silence. “What’d you wish for, Yeonie?”

She simply smiles, glancing at you from her side, and then moving her gaze straight to Jungkook.

She subtly shakes her head, voice so soft, almost completely blurred into a whisper, “If I tell you, it’ll never come true.”

* .✫*ﾟ･��｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

hi, i’m back omg. i had to take some time away bc midway of finishing this up, literally a few paragraphs away, i ended up having my mental health spiral down. but now, i’m better and managed to finish this part.

also please tell me ur thoughts! i crave validation n use ur feedback as my fuel towards anything i write. :]

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

#mine #bts #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #full stop

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes.

you love diego hargreeves pretty eyes, sober and drunk off your rocker. only, when its the latter, it’s a little harder to hold back your eager compliments.

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WARNINGS & DETAILS: gender!neutral reader. mention of alcohol & drinking, some fighting later on in the chapter (it’ll make sense when it comes), idiots being idiots, mutual pining, a tad bit of angst. WORD COUNT: 6.5k NOTES: at the end (read please).

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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“DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKY’S BLUE?”

Diego didn’t look back, but from the sounds of tiny pants and dull clunks of shoes hitting the ground, he knew enough to paint a picture. You, struggling to rid yourself of the coat he forced you to put on, dropping the heels you claimed you hated so vehemently, all the while probably grinning from ear to ear like he imagined little kids looked on Christmas Day. He knew you’d be waiting for his answer, just as you always did, expecting something greater than he could give you in his own flustered state.

Sometimes you were predictable. But he liked that about you.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No, silly! I’m asking you!”

“Oh.” His tongue danced across his bottom lip, wetting the chapped skin before responding. “I dunno. Sorry.”

Only a sparkling laugh and a thump answered him. He whirled around to see you flat on your butt on the ground, staring up at him with drooping doe eyes. It would be an irresistibly pretty sight, if he knew it wasn’t from extreme inebriation and you were completely off your rocker at the moment.

Still, pretty.

“Help me up?” You laughed, waving your hands aimlessly towards him. “Puh-lease?”

Diego grimaced slightly but moved anyways. He grabbed at your hands (clammy, another symptom of your heavy drinking choices) and yanked you towards him. Only he overestimated you and greatly underestimated his own strength it seemed -- instead of lifting to your feet like any normal person, you practically flew towards him, landing just under his chin and flopping against his chest.

And Diego froze.

Normally he would have pulled away and shrugged it off as a mistake. Neither of you would mention it again and would move on with your lives, forgetting how close your bodies had been and the way your gaze was intoxicating upon itself. He had rules for those things; never getting too close to a friend who made his heart beat in a rather unfriendly way was one of them.

But as you looked up at him, still smiling dopily and eyes almost crossed, he couldn’t remember a single thing about rules or precautions or anything of the sort. All that was on Diego’s mind, was you.

Your smile softened a tad, painted lips closing over your teeth and only hinting at the dimples he had stared at many-a-time before. Up close, he could see flecks of black under your eyes, staining flushed skin with ebony freckles that no one could believe was natural. He didn’t know the word for it, but guessed it was from you rubbing at your eyes and forgetting you had painted them hours before. Despite it, you still looked absolutely radiant.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Diego blinked, startled by your giggled statement. “W-what?”

“Sooo pretty,” you gushed. One of your hands left his chest -- he hadn’t even realised they had been pressed there, but he suddenly missed the warm sensation -- and caressed his cheek. He shuddered at the touch. “Maybe the pre...prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

If merely standing near you was heart-attack inducing, Diego was certain that all this was going to explode the vessel. Any second at that point, it would just burst and coat your grinning face with its guts--

-- he shook his head, ridding himself of both that image and the foolish thoughts flooding around it. You were drunk. Everyone said and did stupid stuff when they were drunk. Right? Like the time he lost a fight with a lamp post -- he wouldn’t do that sober, but alcohol made everyone a fool. You just chose compliments over actions, maybe.

The saying ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ lingered in his mind for half a second, but he pushed it away. That only worked in late night television or shitty rom-coms, not reality. Not with them.

“You should get to bed,” Diego said gruffly, pulling away from your fingers. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on your face, but tried to push it away for his own emotions’ sake. “You’re gonna want to, ‘fore all this hits.”

“You should smile more.”

Diego froze. He didn’t turn back to her that time, knowing it would only hurt him more, but he couldn’t bring himself to move another inch.

“Your eyes are fu...cking beautiful, but your smile?” Clapping echoed paces behind him; his jaw clenched with every smack. “Diego, you’re so pretty!”

He reached behind him blindly, scrambling and feeling stupid before finally launching onto you. Still avoiding your charming smile, he pulled you along, leading you out and into your bedroom. “I’ll be back to get you some Advil. Sit down.”

“I wish you’d smile more,” you said, completely ignoring every word he said. You fell down to your bed with a plop. “It lights up those pretty pretty, pretty eyes so much...so fucking pretty, Diego! I can’t even think of any other words, that’s how be-yew-tiful you are.”

“Okay, I--”

“-- and you always look so grumpy. It’s so funny!”

Diego should have been long gone, at that point. For his own sake and for yours, because you would hate that you rambled on so much, and he was going to pay for the emotional turmoil you were putting him through. But he couldn’t. He simply stood, still and awkward in your bedroom doorway, watching as you tried to twist your face to look like his own.

It didn’t work at all. Your lips fought angrily to smile again, and your eyelids just drooped, so far you looked stoned, or maybe like a zombie ready to bite. But even if you looked beyond ridiculous, his mind still screamed at how adorable it was, and despite himself, Diego smiled.

“See! See, there - there it is!” You pointed frantically at his own face, like he didn’t know it was there. “God, I wish I had a mirror to show you how pretty you are! Lil...lil sunshine boy!”

Okay, ‘sunshine boy’ was new. It took a little bit of the piss out of everything, and he was able to grumble and walk away finally from your singing self. Calls of his name paired with nonsensical titles followed. Diego tried his best to ignore them, but he knew the coos would haunt him later. Even as he searched for a glass, the sounds bounced through his head like injured bats in a cave; no way out and too blind to escape, forced to flit around endlessly until someone ended their suffering.

But Diego, unfortunately, did not know how to do that. So he simply bore the weight of your compliments knowing that they were nothing but sounds and syllables made up by a confused mind, trying to push through the night with as little baggage as possible.

As he walked back to your room, he sighed. This wasn’t how he planned things to go. It had been a good night -- sure, he might not have had as much fun as you looked like you were having, dancing and drinking and laughing, but at least he was with you. And he liked that, and the lax nature you took on when you drank, making him feel less pressure about constantly being the best version of himself. He hadn’t felt like he needed to put on a show, he was just Diego, for better or for worse. And somehow, you didn’t mind that.

He only wished that he could have more than that and all the time.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat after the word came out garbled. “Uh - got you this, you’re gonna want to drink it and take these now. Okay? And I’m putting these here for tomorrow morning, so you can take that as soon as you’re up. You got that?”

Your head bobbed up and down excitedly, but he knew you didn’t take in a word he said. So as you swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, he scribbled out a note to remind you of what definitely went right over your head.

Diego paused, pen slightly trembling in his hand, before jotting down two more sentences. Thanks for last night. Had a good time being with you, as always. He hesitated, hovering over the slip of paper before cursing and scribbling out the lines with added violence. He tried again, being a little bit more poetic (which wasn’t much, but words really were not his thing) only to be disappointed again, pushing down on the pen so hard he was sure it would burst. Once he was sure nothing but scribbles could be made of the mess, he put the note under the Advil bottle and stepped away.

“You wanna change out of that?” He asked, gesturing to your clothes. “Doubt that’s comfortable.”

“Nah,” you drawled. You smiled up at him and even dared to wink (it was more of a sloppy, half-assed blink, but it still made his head swim). “I’m just comfortable. Do...you…’re you comfortable?”

Diego chose not to answer that. He pushed you back gently, deciding not to fight with you on changing and instead just going with sleep. You didn’t fight him much. If anything you leaned into it, holding onto his hands for seconds longer than you should and mumbling sweet nonsense up at him.

“You know,” you sang, “you know what, Di...Diego?”

He didn’t pause. “What?”

“I would do anything...and everything...in order to make you smile forever. You know? Anything.”

Those were the words that weighed heaviest on Diego’s conscience as he drove back to his place. It was as though they had erased everything else, anything that had happened that day or any time before and just left that in its place. He didn’t know why, but they stuck, and as he wove through the dimly lit streets, your voice floated about like a bodiless apparition, set to destroy his mind and drive him mad.

Diego had had his heart broken several times before. It happened almost easily in his childhood, normally by the hands of his vindictive father. He had learned how to patch it up, sew up the cracks and try to make it so it wouldn’t happen again, and eventually he got better at that. But it shattered again when Ben died, and he realised that they were just kids, forced to play heroes in a horrifically gruesome world they didn’t belong in. That took a while to mend, but he did, until he screwed up at the police academy and Patch left him too. After that he had let the fragments just sit in piles in his chest, digging at his ribs and leaving him winded after long nights in the cold darkness. He hadn’t cared; he thought that was what was expected of him. Nothing but a broken heart to hold him when the nightmares got too bad.

But when you came along, he didn’t have to stitch himself back together. You did it for him. Somehow without him noticing you had snuck into his chest and unravelled the poor stitchwork and blotted out the stains left that he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Over time, you had managed to make it almost brand new again, and it was a whole new experience of smiling and watching as you failed to finish your joke again, only because you were already laughing too hard. Of getting wasted on Wednesday’s when your job sucked more and dancing down the streets up to your apartment, uncaring of those who watched. Of you chiding him for the cuts and bruises collected from his vigilante expeditions, but always being there to wash them out and make a fresh pot of tea. Of you, merely existing, and allowing him to bask in your sunshine a while longer.

But hearing those soft words leave your drunken lips, spilling out like tar from someone so angelic, hurt. Diego didn’t think that was possible with you.

He sighed, turning down the street towards the gym. It would be a sleepless night again.

YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING CONFUSED AND ACHING.

Not as much as you normally would be, which was a nice change of pace -- you assumed you had enough common sense to take premature headache meds, knowing how bad the hangover got for them. But your drunken self did not have the thought of changing out of your stiff, uncomfortable going-out clothes, instead draping yourself across the mattress smelling like the shitty bar you had careened in and leaving every part of your body pissed off. Sweaty fabric clung to your skin, leaving you feeling soggy and misworn and eagerly wishing you could have made better choices earlier.

You groaned and slipped out of the comforter, already missing its heavy warmth. Slowly you staggered over to your desk where you must have left the Advil for that morning. “Thank you, past me,” you sighed, twisting open the cap with a grimace.

A paper caught your eye, small amongst the stacks of work files you had yet to comb through. Downing one pill, you grabbed it, taking in the scribbled letters through tired, squinting eyes.

Leaving this for you because you’re too drunk to remember what I said. Take these and drink water before you die of a hangover. I’d hate to find your body that way. Also left your things on your kitchen counter, they’re not stolen. Also left your burrito in your microwave -- you insisted on buying one last night, so don’t forget about it. Take care.

Underneath were two lines of thick black scribbles, covering up whatever was written under that and leaving only a scrawled ‘Diego’ as your final clue. But, despite whatever mystery the pen covered up, you smiled and pinned the note to your bulletin board.

“Thanks, bud,” you grinned, speaking like he was there to hear. “Hope I wasn’t too annoying last night.”

You went about your morning with a smile despite the pounding pulverising your muscles, and enjoying the lazy Sunday hours spent cleaning up. You even spoiled yourself with a long shower, eating up your hot water minutes with joy, knowing you’d hate yourself for it two weeks later. After an hour of cleaning up, washing your face free of the makeup smudged across your cheeks and devouring that burrito left for you, you finally felt refreshed and better about things.

You glanced up at the time. Diego would be up, probably manning the desk for Al as he did most Sunday’s (the facet of his job he hated most). But, at least that meant he would be available to take your call. You missed him, even after seeing him just the night before, and selfishly craved the distraction of his low rasp. Maybe you could even make him laugh, cheer him up during his boring shift.

But five minutes later, you were left disappointed when none of the three calls went through. You tried not to think too hard on it -- he was a busy guy, and was either working or doing his other line of work, and ignoring your call meant nothing. Course, it probably didn’t look good for a boxing gym, but...you’d settle.

You would just call back later. He would definitely be available to talk then.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU LAST TALKED TO DIEGO, which was the longest either of you had gone without even speaking to one another in the history of your friendship.

On its own, the fact wasn’t so troubling. You were both working adults who had their own lives to sort through, jobs and bills and other friends that you didn’t like half as much as each other, grocery shopping and patrolling the streets alike, filling up both schedules easily. But the two of you were closer than that, and definitely more than just friends that saw each other every other week. You didn’t care about those friends like you cared about Diego.

And it hurt, that he was going to such lengths to avoid you.

Every time you stopped by his gym, Diego was gone. Al simply shrugged off your questions with a non-committal ‘I don’t keep track of the shithead’ and even when you went to knock on his door to check if he was lying, you got nothing. No regulars knew either, which was strange; he always liked to spend his afternoons training with a couple people, sometimes you if you showed up at the right time. You considered doing just that and waiting for him to show -- but even after hours of sparring, the man was nowhere to be seen.

You had tried everything, to the point where Al was annoyed and you felt like you were losing your mind. Surely Diego hadn’t just disappeared off the face of the earth. That didn’t seem right or possible and you knew you hadn’t made him up, because you had the pictures and notes to prove it. You could see his face, disgruntled and sometimes smiling in the photos you had snapped of him -- so why couldn’t you find it anywhere else?

With all options exhausted, you gave up for a few days, allowing yourself the chance to catch your breath. However, with that came the exhaustive process of trying to figure out why on earth Diego was avoiding you. And unfortunately, all that linked back to your last night spent together, and the bitter realisation that you must have fucked up the night somehow and left him not wanting to see you again.

And that thought broke you.

Thursday night was spent crying alone on your couch, trying to push past the depressing thoughts and failing miserably. You couldn’t remember half of what you did that night, but you knew he hadn’t been drinking as much as you, and alcohol always rendered you a ranting, rambling fool that he must have had to deal with. He had got you home, but for what? And what if it was all in that stupid note he had left you, scribbling out the real reason he was leaving you high and dry?

You threw the note out that night, staring down at it in the trash with tears pooling in your eyes. If only you could know why.

The issue was, Diego was more than just a friend to you. Sure your relationship had been built on totally platonic foundations, but it soon blossomed into so much more. He was a companion, your partner, the man who made you feel comfortable enough to wheeze into laughter-induced tears with, or just sob against his shoulder without feeling judged. He was the guy who brought you fast food when you forgot about dinner when work ran late, and the one who let you sleep over when you didn’t want to be alone. He made you smile by just being there -- like, you would open your door (or window, usually) and just grin like an idiot at the mere sight of his face. He was just Diego, but that meant more to you than you had ever been able to say.

Maybe, hell, you loved him. Was that so bad? It hadn’t been intentional to fall -- one day you had just been eating pizza on your countertop way too late in the night, and you looked over and realised your heart had only ever fluttered so violently for him. That he was the guy you could imagine spending the rest of your days with and never getting bored. Of course, you didn’t act on it, knowing that it was a platonic relationship and admitting such would destroy it completely -- but that didn’t mean your official break-up didn’t hurt any less.

You skipped work Friday, something you never did.

When your coworkers called, you wrote it off as illness related, while still drowning in the sorrow of being left high and dry.

Friends hit you up to make some ‘end of the week’ plans, but you ignored them.

You fell asleep at nine that night -- the earliest you had in aeons.

You stayed in bed for most of Saturday, staring at the ceiling or the photos pinned to your walls of the two of you, wondering if this was all just a weird dream you were going to wake up from.

Six hours later, you hadn’t woken up from your dream, but you had made up your mind.

One hour after that, at almost ten o’clock at night, you were rolling up to that same boxing gym you had haunted for that week, dressed in dark activewear and parked a ways away from the actual space. Steely-eyed and with your jaw clenched, you marched out the vehicle and into the building, knowing full well what you were going to find. You had a plan, and whatever it took, you were going to put it into motion.

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest plan, and maybe you had only just come up with it, with barely any time to consider it’s workability and whether or not you were just throwing words together, but nevertheless, you persisted.

You were going to get Diego back.

“DIEGO FUCKING HARGREEVES,”

The man, back turned away, stiffened and immediately went to move,

“run and I will end you, boy,” you growled, stomping towards him with force; he could practically feel each stomp echoing in his chest, cracking him down to the size of a pea. Somehow, he couldn’t move, frozen in place by your command. “Okay?!”

“H-hey, I--”

“--why the hell have you been avoiding me?!”

His eyes were wide and panicked and frantically, he searched all around for a way out. Unfortunately, your body in front of him blocked his only exit, leaving him stammering for answers you knew he didn’t easily have. “Look, I--”

“--I have been worried and scared and sad and out of my mind this entire week,” you snapped, jabbing a finger into his tank top, pushing him back in his steps. Your anger dug deep into him, thorns grabbing onto every bit of vulnerable flesh -- and the worst part was, you were absolutely right. “You know that? I have called everywhere I could -- I even called the police, wondering if you were in custody and I just missed that news drop. But no, you were just gone, avoiding me for who knows what reason!”

“I didn’t--”

“--what did I do, Diego? What happened, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

“Then why won’t you even look me in the eyes?” you hissed back, staring up at him in hopes he would catch your gaze. But he didn’t; his eyes still looked far away from yours, searching for something to give him a way out with. “You won’t even look at me, that’s how pissed off you are at me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get if I did something wrong, but you can’t just pull away from me like that -- this friendship isn’t built on shit like that. I can’t cope with this void left by you deciding you don’t like me anymore!”

“That’s not what happened,” he insisted, his own voice raising in volume. “I swear!”

“Then what, Diego? What possible reason could you have that isn’t related to me doing something wrong? Because that’s all the evidence I got out of this and unlike you, I have zero detective skills so I’m working on one freakin’ theory here!”

His eyes averted to the ground, staring down at the both of your feet, one pair tapping angrily and the other shuffling in hopes of escape. He felt himself folding in, a habit he had broken a long time ago with you, one he thought he had killed off forever. But apparently it hadn’t.

“You can’t even answer me,” you shuddered. Your sneakers squeaked against the shiny linoleum, leading you back a step. “You - I don’t understand this. At all. And you can’t even give me an answer why? D-don’t I deserve a reason for why I hurt you, Diego?”

“No, c’mon. I…” he hesitated once more as expected. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his mouth and thickened his tongue, leaving him once again stumbling for an excuse. He felt your eyes on him as well as his father, reproachfully clicking his tongue at once again, his stuttering, bumbling fool of a son. “I did...I didn’t…”

“Forget it. Screw this.”

“W-wait, don’t leave--”

“--I’m not leaving!”

He froze, holding onto your bicep in an attempt to stop you. Slowly, his hand fell away, “w-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, and slowly he watched as a devilish smile stained your cheeks, pulling away the angry lines of before. “I didn’t come here to leave, I came here for answers. And I guess I just have to fight you for ‘em.”

At that point, Diego’s head had been through the wringer so much, he felt like it could just pop off if he wasn’t careful. And yet still, his eyes bugged out and he stared at you in complete shock, unsure just how he was supposed to process that last sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing at all, “c’mon. I know you’re better with the physical stuff and I wanna catch you off guard, finally get an answer out of you. I’m gonna, like, fight you for the truth.”

He watched as you toed off your shoes and shrugged off your thin jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with little care. You seemed ready, like you had planned this all along -- and had you? What was the reason behind all this? Was there something that he just wasn’t getting, in his state of emotional disarray? Or were you just losing your mind because of him?

“L-look, I’m s-sorry, but I,” he paused, trying to form the syllables in his mouth so they weren’t so thick and jumbled. “I can’t just fight you.”

“Sure you can. We spar all the time.”

“But w-w-why?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted and fell; ever the nonchalant dramatic. “Call it a bet. I win, you tell me why you avoided me for so long. And if you win, which you probably won’t but if you do…” you grimaced. “I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

Diego baulked. “I don’t want that.”

“Clearly you do,” you jabbed back. “Right?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

You huffed; clearly you didn’t believe him, but you also seemed set on the idea that you were definitely going to win, so he wasn’t sure where he stood in that. “Fine, pick your prize and keep it to yourself. I don’t care.”

Diego still hesitated, hovering to the side as you wrapped your hands. There seemed no way out of the situation, but surely there had to be - surely you weren’t just going to hop into the ring for an explanation.

Was this some ill-fated revenge?

You must have noticed his expression, because he heard you laughing from a whiles away. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Diego. Trust me, no matter what you do, I’d never want to do that.”

His heart fluttered.

“It’s just,” you cocked your head, thinking over your words before smiling again, “like you said when you first started training me. Freestyle, baby.”

You had deepened your voice tremendously to mock his own -- and while it was a horrible impression, it did call back to the one you did before of him. Not that you seemed to remember that, you had been piss drunk, but the thought still made him cringe.

All this, because of him. He screwed it all up and for what?

“Rules are the same as always. First person to pin the other down for more than five beats wins. No serious hits, so like, don’t break my nose or anything.”

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, even as he stepped into the ring. “We don’t need to do this. We can just talk.”

You sighed and looked back at him. There was a fierceness in your eyes, a determination for something he wasn’t quite sure of -- like there was a plan in motion, only he couldn’t figure out where the steps lead. “I didn’t come here to walk away, Diego. I’m here to win a bet and get my friend back, and also kick his ass if I have to because I’m desperate. You can’t convince me to leave, so wrap your hands and let’s get this going!”

“But-”

“-it’s either this or I just stare at you until you crack,” you said, no longer smiling. “And I doubt you want that typ’a torture, do you?”

He stared at you askance. “Really?”

You didn’t answer him with words that time.

The fight was fast, and almost evenly matched -- you had a slight advantage with your eye on your prize, and he was faltering with every other blow knowing he couldn’t bear to hurt you. But the pace picked up and soon it was like you were one fluid being, predators locked on and desperate to claw the other away from them while simultaneously, drawing them back in. Fists flew and every so often he saw the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes, catching on everything he turned from and leaving him surrounded by the flames you spilled.

For a moment, Diego thought he had it. He had managed to pivot away from your last onslaught and pulled you away from the centre, edging into the corner where he could finally pin you down. His arms outstretched and for a moment he was actually smiling because it felt like the good old days -- sparring way too late into the night when he should have been working with the girl he secretly loved and the stars watching from way above, admiring the gruesomely pretty sight.

But in a flash, everything switched.

He lunged, you slid.

When he fumbled, your legs wrapped around his own, pulling him back and flipping over one another like beetles rolling in the hot sun.

You were everywhere, smothering his smoke with your body, forcing him down before he even realised what was happening.

Diego blinked, and suddenly you were on top of him, legs on either side of his waist and your hands holding his own up above his head. Your expression edged on feral as you grinned down at him, straddling him and fighting everything he pushed back with.

But he couldn’t fight back. Not when you were on him and everywhere and he could smell your shampoo as your hand dangled around him, dripping your scent around him like he was in that poppy field from Wizard of Oz, ready to give into the toxin and be one with the flowers. Your hands held his own and he wished he could slide his fingers into the clasp, holding them to him and kiss each bruised knuckle with tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your hips, legs, chest pressed against his own, both heaving and waiting for the other to move and interrupt the tension rising with every passing second.

“One,” you began, voice low and teasing. Did you know what you did to him? “Two…”

Diego writhed in your hold, but it was no use. You had him. He was yours and he would be satisfied to be so for the rest of your days, if only you never let him go. His gaze flitted across your face, tracing the way your eyebrows furrowed and relaxed with the numbers, eyes still wide and filled with emotions he didn’t quite know how to read. Sweat beaded on your brow and stained your cheeks and yet still, he thought you were as perfect as you could be, mere inches from his own darting eyes.

“Four...four and a half…” your smile grew and you got a little closer, almost touching his face with your own. “Five…”

He didn’t dare to breathe.

“I win, Hargreeves.”

But despite the hushed declaration, you did not move. Your body stayed over his, hands pushing his own down with gentle force but keeping him locked under you. Your eyes remained on his own, locking them in place as your face grew nearer. Soon enough your nose was just touching his own, nudging softly and turning so it fit better against his lips, which were parted and so close to pressing against your own-

-but you pulled away.

Just as Diego’s eyes had shut, your weight left his and he was left to sit up confused and watch you stomp away. You slipped out of the ring and down to the ground with a soft thump. He watched you unwrap your knuckles and to his surprise, he saw your hands shake with the movement.

“This was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “This was stupid, I have to-”

“-don’t go,” he mumbled. In one swift movement Diego had jumped back to his feet and pulled after you. You stumbled back a few paces; he raced after, hurrying to your side with an aggression he didn’t know he possessed. “Don’t go.”

“Diego, I-”

“-I pushed you away because I screwed up,” he said, all in one breath and so fast he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. “I messed this up. We’re only supposed to be friends, I know that, but I-I can’t not be in love with you, not when you’re that perfect and so beautiful and you make me smile e-even when I feel like the shittiest sh-sh-shit and-”

“-kiss me.”

“What?”

You stepped forward, angling yourself just under his chin. Your chest heaved. “Kiss me, asshole.”

And slowly his hands moved on their own accord, cupping your cheeks and holding you to him. His eyes darted down once, staring at the pink lips before reaching your own again for a silent affirmation. When you nodded in his hands he acted, pulling you to him quickly and pressing his lips against his own, finally.

It was fast and passionate, both beings pulling at the other, urging the other closer than the skin they already pressed against. His one hand left your jaw to hold your neck, angling your face so he could better caress it, smudging himself across your lips with little care. He felt your own touch against his back, sliding down to his hips and pulling -- without even thinking, he moaned, feeling your lower body roll up against him and leave his mind in overdrive.

You pulled away for air finally, gasping only to be pulled in again for a softer, gentler kiss. He pecked the corners of your mouth before finally taking your lower in between his teeth, biting softly before sucking on the tender swollen skin. He pulled away then, dropping his forehead to your own as you both took another breath.

“If…” you paused to inhale, grinning through the gasp of oxygen, “if I knew you were holding all that back, Diego, I would have kissed your ass a lot sooner.”

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured. He felt your hands leave his waist, pulling up to the one he still had cradled against your cheek. Your head leaned into the gentle touch. Even as your fingers held his. “I just...is this why you stopped talking to me?”

Diego shook his head softly against your own. Once more his heart faltered and threatened to burst, but he ignored it. “No, I just...I realised that I was-”

“-sorry, I don’t - you have an eyelash.” He froze as your fingers stroked his cheek, pulling away the evidence that had caught your attention. Your eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he watched as they widened and brightened under his perplexed gaze. “Your eyes really are pretty.”

His heart stopped for a beat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s why I stopped!” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you then, gesticulating wildly around like the air was going to supply you with answers. “That’s why!”

You frowned, cocking your head like a lost puppy. “You...because of your pretty eyes?!”

“What? Wait, no, that’s not why.”

“I’m so confused right now, bud, and I just--”

“--last week,” he rushed, cutting you off before he could lose momentum again. “I took you home. You were wasted, and you kept talking and - and you told me I had pretty eyes.”

Still, you looked bewildered.

“I-I have been obsessed with you since the day I met you,” he said, soft and unsure if any of the words would come out right. Or if they themselves were the right ones to say. “I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t let myself act on it because I knew that it wouldn’t wo-wo-work out, you’d get mad and I’d lose you. I rathered having you as a friend, then losing you cause I was in love with you.”

“Love?” you questioned, barely a breath of a sound lingering between them.

“But that night, you went on and on and I realised then that I was too gone to keep it in. And I realised that you wouldn’t feel the same...and I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left. And…”

“Diego Hargreeves, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

His brow furrowed low, anger mingling with befuddlement on his flushed skin. “Hey, I-”

“-first of all, you really think I would just hate you because you thought of me as more than a friend?! Even if I didn’t like you - which I do, by the way - I wouldn’t do that, I value you too much. But second of all, you’re telling me that you never noticed how much I liked you back?!”

“I-”

“-I have felt like an idiot for the past year, holding in my feelings for you and wishing you could feel the same way. And when you left, I thought - I thought that was it, and that I screwed things up when I was drunk, which I guess I did but-”

“-you didn’t screw anything up, I did!”

“No you didn’t, I did! I’m the drunken initiator!”

“I shouldn’t have just left!”

“Okay, so we both screwed up!” you shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. “But dammit, Diego, I have loved you for ages, and you - we - this is what it came to?!”

“Well, I-”

“-I can’t believe this!” you chortled. “All this time?!”

“I guess so,” he said, voice catching on the ‘so’. “I guess, yeah.”

“Holy crap.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“I love you,” you giggled, breathless and still flushed, messy and beautiful in the shitty gym lighting. “I love you, Diego Hargreeves.”

His heart didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. Diego instead felt the slight twinge as the organ settled in his chest, content and buzzing with the panted cry. The breaklines of before didn’t feel so harsh, mended by your shiny eyes and swollen lips that he wanted to stare at until the end of his days. For once, his heart actually felt whole.

“I love you too,” Diego mumbled, smiling like a little kid. The muscles in his face, rusted over with age and disuse, groaned at the extreme grin but he kept it on anyways, smiling down at you with the strangest feeling of happiness coursing through his body. “A lot.”

And you beamed. “Have I ever told you, your eyes look like, a thousand times prettier when you smile?”

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ALCOHOL BASED IDIOTS TO LOVERS FICS?? Have I any other creative thoughts?? Does this make me seem like that’s all I think about?? These are the thoughts that now run through my mind as I rush to post this...and truthfully, I don’t have an answer. I swear I’m a little more creative! I just...have a hankering for these things. Oops.

I wrote this weirdly super super fast and it’s super nonsensical, especially the middle bits? But I weirdly like it. I’m not sure. The plot is a ~little~ wonky but I’m rolling with it!

I’m open to make more stuff on here, I’ve gotten quite bad at it but I like writing these things as practice pieces. So, if you want to read more, requests are open and you can find a list of prompts (if you want them) in my masterlist. I’m putting out an updated list later on in the month, but I also am just open to have any sorts of requests. xx

(also as always - if you enjoyed and you want more, follow, reblog, and consider buying me a kofi! linked in my bio bc tumblr doesn’t like direct links on posts, please check it out if you’re feeling generous because I’m recently unemployed and any bit helps. but sharing this post and showing others the work is appreciated a great deal and i love you if you do!)

#diego hargreeves x reader #mine #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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nekoabiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Oh my god, they were roommates...

IT’S @not-so-innocent-bi-sander‘s BIRTHDAY! At least in my time zone~ And I tried my best to make a fic that covers all that Jordan loves :D

AU: Human/College AU Pairing: Prinxiety Words: 3408 Warnings: Panic attack, nudity. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Virgil didn’t think he’d ever see him again and yet, here he was... and he was hot!

“Across the hall from your room is our final roommate, Virgil Evans. He pr-”

“Virgil Evans?!”

The loud exclamation of his name had something clicking in the young adult’s mind. The voice was eerily familiar, though Virgil would have sworn up and down that it was just a hallucination and that no one was even out on the landing. The now muffled voices and the thumping of heavy things hitting the ground told him that someone was definitely out there, or at least was before they moved into the empty room opposite his own. There was no way it could be… could it? He went to shake the thought from his head and get back to work, but a sudden excited knocking at his door interrupted him. With a slight shake of his hand, Virgil walked up to the door and grasped the handle to see who was on the opposite side.

Everything stood still immediately once the door was opened. Virgil was, metaphorically, flung back in time by the mere sight of the man before him.

They had both been akin to outcasts in middle school; one a fledgling emo who was too scary and quiet, the other a small pudgy child who was too loud and excitable. Somehow, they were complete opposites yet fit so well together, almost like puzzle pieces. They liked to play make-believe, watch Disney movies, draw and paint. Though, on a deeper level, there was far more in common.

Virgil had been in denial in middle school. He realised that he found his friend absolutely adorable and really cute, and he realised one day during a pretend scene of true love’s kiss saving the day that he actually did like kissing his friend. But Virgil couldn’t say that, it could ruin his best friendship and – most definitely – the rest of his entire life. So, it stayed hidden and Virgil pretended like all of his emotions weren’t there. Up until the day he left.

One day, Virgil was waiting in the usual spot when his friend approached him, looking sad. He told Virgil that his family were moving away, and he was going to have to change schools. It felt as though Virgil’s entire world was crashing around him. A week passed and he was gone. Virgil was back to being alone. He thought he’d never see his friend again. Apparently, he was dead wrong.

“I can’t believe it! It’s actually you! I’d recognise your emo ass anywhere, though I didn’t expect you to get better at it!” His old friend laughed heartily, giving Virgil a once over.

Virgil rolled his eyes and leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, “Didn’t expect you to become a meathead like your brothers, but I guess we were both wrong, Roman Prince.” Virgil put extra emphasis on his last name, which caused a grin spread across his face as the man before him almost inflated with indignation.

“How dare you!” Roman pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, “I will have you know I surpassed them greatly with my grades, thank you very much!”

“Like that was hard.”

“Are you undermining my achievements?!”

“A little.”

They continued to argue back and forth for a few more minutes before a quiet voice interrupted them and both of their heads turned to the new participant in the conversation. “Um, are you two fighting? Please don’t fight, at least not on the first day…”

Virgil ducked his head in embarrassment, “Sorry, Pat… Didn’t mean to freak you out…”

“Yes, many apologies. We weren’t arguing. Just old friends teasing each other as you do!”

Patton’s eyes lit up, “Wait! Are you the friend from middle school that V-”

Immediately, the emo was out of the doorway and in front of Patton, his hand clamped over his mouth. “Patton, shut up!” Virgil hissed, his face already beginning to burn in embarrassment.

A chuckle had Virgil’s stomach churning, “So, Virgil has mentioned me, hm? I guess I am unforgettable.”

“Whatever. I’ll be in my room.” Virgil muttered, slinking back into the dark bedroom. He shut the door in Roman’s face, who tried to get one last comment in. He listened carefully to the sounds in the hallway; the short conversation between Roman and Patton, the footsteps descending the stairs as the door across the hall shut and vague noises of Roman unpacking started. Only then did Virgil allow himself to whisper scream as he collapsed onto his sheets. He asked a question in his mind, ‘How the fuck did he get hot?!’

Virgil hoped that, over time and with exposure, his sudden surge of attraction to his old friend would dissipate. Perhaps Roman would have weird habits that would turn Virgil off or maybe his personality – having changed over the years – would grind on Virgil’s last nerve until every ounce of attraction fizzled away. Of course, things were not that simple.

Roman was just as energetic and friendly as he had been years prior, easily making friends with not only the other roommates living with them but also many other students, and even the grumpy old lady who lived in the house next door who always complained about the weird phantom noises they were apparently making at 3am when they were all asleep (or at least, lying in bed). He always had time for Virgil though.

By the end of the first week he’d been living in the house, Roman had somehow gained an all-access pass to Virgil’s room at most reasonable times of the day. To the point that the two would just sit and do work before eventually falling into long discussions – or arguments – about nothing in particular. Some days, they’d simply fill each other in on their lives since they parted ways. Roman was extremely invested in Virgil’s life and what became of the other kids from their school, and Virgil could say the same about Roman.

It was during one of these conversations that Roman asked a particularly interesting question. He was laying on his front, head held up by his hands. There was an open notebook to the side of him, though it was all but forgotten at this point.

“I haven’t heard you mention anything about the topic but I’m very interested, so I’ll ask anyway. How many of the girls did you have throwing themselves at you when you got older? I bet that dark and mysterious vibe got them all, didn’t it?” Roman wiggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning slyly as Virgil choked on the drink in his hand.

The emo put the cup down and smacked his chest a couple of times before rasping out a short “What?! No. The fuck?!”

“Oh… Sorry, I just thought with your good looks and the whole… aesthetic you have going on, you’d have the pick of them all.” Roman said sincerely. Virgil’s cheeks darkened at the compliment and Roman’s eyes quickly lit up. He swung around, throwing his legs off the side so he could assess Virgil closer, “Virgil… I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer me but… were there any… guys?”

The immediate spinning of Virgil’s desk chair told Roman everything. The sly grin creeped back up onto his face as he stood, approaching the chair that now faced away from him. Roman faked a gasp before resting his crossed arms on the back of the chair, “Did I get it right?”

Virgil huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. In a single swift movement, he grabbed the rainbow stress toy from his desk (a gift from Patton) and threw it over his shoulder, attempting to hit Roman’s shoulder with it. However, the tug on the back of the chair and the undignified high-pitched yelp followed by stumbling steps had Virgil thinking he’d missed his mark. It didn’t stop him from laughing after he turned in his chair and found Roman pouting at him indignantly.

“Oh, yes. Laugh it up. It’s just so funny that you tried to assault me!” Roman tossed his head with a sniff, a haughty look upon his face.

Virgil managed to control himself a little in order to respond, “You look like such a jock, but you are way too gay for that. And I hope that this answered your dumb question, Princey.” He picked the stress toy off the ground and held it up for Roman to truly get a look at before putting it back on his desk.

Roman perked back up once he saw the toy properly, “Well, thank goodness for that! I don’t think I could have lived knowing someone as pretty as you was straight.” He situated himself back on Virgil’s bed and went back to looking over his notes, while Virgil stewed over what he’d just heard.

The weeks passed and nothing was getting better for Virgil. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t just bottle it up within himself anymore, he just had to talk to someone. That’s how he found himself laying on his back on Logan’s bed, staring up at the precise constellations that dotted his ceiling.

“If you truly want my opinion, Virgil, it seems there is enough evidence to show that your affecti-”

“Ahhh, don’t call it that!” Virgil threw an arm over his eyes, as if that would help him get away from the truth of his smart friend’s words, “Is there anything else you can say instead?”

“Virgil.”

Logan placed his tablet pen back into its holder, twisted the lid of his laptop back to its regular position and turned to face his bed. His left leg crossed over his right and his arms tightly crossed over his chest, looking at Virgil with his stern steely gaze. The emo lying there almost squirmed away, as he could feel the piercing gaze even without seeing it.

“Ughhhh, I knew you’d be no help!” Virgil slid himself off of the sheets and onto his feet, heading towards the door, “I’m gonna go see if Patton’s in. Maybe he’ll help me more!”

Logan said nothing, simply shrugging – which Virgil caught sight of in the mirror next to the door – before turning back to his work, “If you think he’ll help, then go ahead. Unlike you, I am actually trying to complete my studies, so you’ll know where I will be.”

A light twitch of a smile came to Virgil’s lip as he muttered a thanks under his breath before fake-storming out of Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and went to text Patton. His attention was so focused on his phone that he didn’t notice the sound of a new door opening near to him. It was only when he collided with something warm and solid that Virgil realised someone else was in the hallway with him. He quickly lifted his head to apologise, but found his words catching in his throat at the sight.

Roman stood just in front of him, still damp from his shower that he’d clearly just finished. His hair was slicked back with the water, though a few strands had fallen across his forehead from the slight jolt of someone walking into him. Virgil’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the trail of a droplet that had already run its course down Roman’s torso, drinking in every detail of his clearly well-looked after body. He was just muscular enough to have definition, as well as being incredibly broad chested – which really made Virgil realise how much taller Roman had grown as Virgil had clearly made contact with his pecs when they’d bumped into each other. His eyes travelled even further before Virgil could even consider tearing his eyes away from the sight before him. Roman’s body was almost that unbelievable triangle shape that he’d only seen on magazine covers, advertisements and movies. It even had that V-shape that guided Virgil’s gaze to the towel that was hanging low on Roman’s waist, being held up by only one of Roman’s hands.

All of a sudden, Virgil came back to himself. Thankfully, it had only been a few seconds since the impact, and both had been a little startled. Virgil, however, took several steps away, blushing a deep red. He stuttered, attempting to find something to say as he backed up to Logan’s door again. As he fumbled behind him for the door handle, Roman approached slowly, looking concerned. Virgil hadn’t even noticed he’d started to panic.

“Virgil. It’s okay. We’re both okay. Try to breathe…” Roman spoke calmly, holding his hands before him. However, he’d seemingly forgotten that his hand was the one thing keeping the towel from falling to the ground. As he went to reassure Virgil with both hands, Roman could feel the fabric fall from around his waist.

Virgil outright screeched pterodactyl-style and dove into Logan’s room, his face burning. He didn’t see Roman also turn a fantastical shade of red as he saved at least some of his modesty as the door had been slammed shut just as quick. The larger of the two listened at the door for a few seconds. He waited until he heard Logan speaking to Virgil, coaching him through breathing techniques to quell his panic, before heading back to his room to get dressed.

In Logan’s room, Virgil was slowly uncurling from the tight ball he’d managed to get into in his panic as his breathing was starting to return to a somewhat normal level. His eyes were swimming and his head was pounding, but he was able to make out the shape of Logan kneeling beside him.

“Are you feeling better, Virgil? Would you like me to fetch you some water?” Logan asked, analysing Virgil’s body language.

“That… um, please… yes.” Virgil wheezed, stretching out on the ground. He carefully stretched each muscle from the tips of his fingers to his toes as Logan cautiously stepped around him and out of his room. Virgil allowed the sense of embarrassment to wash over him again and his face continued to burn, though his panic was manageable. He could not believe that he’d almost lost it over Roman, of all people. He went to audibly groan whilst slapping his hands across his face, but the sound of Roman’s voice had him stopping mid-movement to listen to every single syllable.

He heard Roman address Logan, clearly both in the hallway nearer the kitchen.

“How is everything?” Roman asked, concerned.

“He is doing relatively well, compared to the state he came to me in, if that’s what you are asking.” Logan’s voice was getting closer. Virgil sat himself up, so he wasn’t caught by Roman lying on the ground.

“That’s good. Um, could you tell him that I’m sorry for whatever happened. I don’t know if it was my fault or what, but I just want to cover my bases, just in case.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. I think it’s best if you don’t come too close. Seeing you again may cause a slight relapse.” Logan stated as his voice came right up to the door. Virgil was now sat with his back pressed against the bed, trying his hardest to look natural.

“O-oh. Right. Of course. Um, well… I hope everything is okay…” Roman sounded disappointed, but a set of footsteps started to retreat away from the room and up the stairs.

Logan then opened the door and entered, his face as stoic as ever. He handed the glass of water to Virgil before sitting himself back into his desk chair and continuing to work. Eventually, there was a rustle of bedsheets that told Logan that Virgil had gotten off of the floor and sat himself back on Logan’s bed. Virgil was muttering something under his breath.

The chair spun back around before stopping on a dime as Logan sighed, “Virgil, if you are going to say something, please let me hear it. I would like to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Virgil gave his friend a withering look that had no malice behind it as this was just the way they worked, “I said ‘I’m going to fucking die’” Virgil made air-quotes around his words.

Logan smiled wryly, “If you’re going to do that here, could you at least make it quiet? I do have a project to finish.” He waited to see Virgil smirk and stick his tongue out playfully before turning back to his laptop, giving Virgil some space to think.

It was after dinner when Virgil started to make his ascent back up to his room finally. There had been a long conversation with Logan once the emo had his thoughts in a semi-coherent order which had ultimately ended with the conclusion that both sides had a mutual interest and that Virgil should really just go for whatever he wanted. It was just as that final point was made that Patton knocked on Logan’s door in order to call him out for food.

“Oh! Virgil! I was about to call you and Roman down, but since you’re here, come on out!” Patton cheerfully said, grinning from ear to ear. The peppy student practically skipped away to call out to Roman, leaving Logan’s door wide open. Both of the other students emerged, slipping into the kitchen quietly. As food was being served up and they were all eating, Virgil avoided eye contact with Roman, even as his roommate was trying his hardest to catch Virgil’s eye. He was working out the script in his head, as Virgil knew he would never do it if not today.

It was only once he was halfway up the stairs and Roman called his name that Virgil even contemplated looking at his roommate again. When he did, his face flushed pink once again at the memory of what he’d seen. Virgil pushed that all away however, as Roman took the stairs two at a time to catch up to him.

“Are you alright? I wanted to check on you after what happened earlier, but Logan said I probably shouldn’t. Just in case. But I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Roman rattled off as they both headed up to their rooms.

Virgil stopped outside his room, leaning against the closed door. “Yeah, I’m good. Just was a little… surprised, I guess?” He mumbled, looking at a very interesting piece of the carpeted floor.

“Good. Good. I didn’t want to uh… traumatise you or something.” Roman laughed nervously, which got Virgil’s attention. He’d never heard Roman nervous before.

Slowly, Virgil raised his gaze, “Well, um, thanks? I guess? Logan helped me. We talked about a lot…” he trailed off, unsure of himself.

“What did you talk about?”

“Just… what happened and things.”

“Things?”

Virgil was shifting his weight from foot to foot, his nervousness getting the better of him. He was trying to remember the script he came up with in his head, but nothing was coming to him. This wasn’t how this was all supposed to go. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. The emo growled under his breath before practically shouting, “I fucking like you, okay?!” Immediately, Virgil clapped his hand over his mouth and his eyes widened in shock at his own outburst.

The silence rang out between the two students. Virgil was unwilling to move and Roman was almost moving in slow motion. He tentatively reached out, loosely grasping Virgil’s wrist in order to pry his hand away from his mouth. It only took a step to close the distance between them, “I like you too, Virgil. Took you long enough to notice.”

Virgil was shocked this was working out the way it was. He was barely aware of what happened before Roman’s lips were brushing against his own, silently asking a question that required an answer. Instead of words, Virgil simply threw himself onto Roman, crushing their mouths together.

Immediately, his back was pushed up against his closed door once more as Roman took charge of the situation. The larger let go of Virgil’s waist in order to grab the door handle and push it open, leading Virgil inside. As the emo let his bedroom door swing shut, he watched Roman tug his shirt over his head and tossed it aside before taking one large step to close the distance between them once again. The lock on the door hit home immediately.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Morality Sanders #Logic Sanders #Oh my god they were roommates #Human AU #College AU

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mahou-furbies · 4 years ago

Note

I actually really liked those insight posts about Precure brooches, items, and fairies. I was wondering if you could do one about their weapons?

The Precure rankings take quite a lot of time to write so it’s nice that someone reads them!

But yes, the weapons. I haven’t made it a secret that I dislike the toy ad-like weapon designs so I don’t really care for many of these (common complaints: looks ugly and cheap, too much pink even for non-pink characters, rainbow buttons where they don’t belong, buttons or lights that don’t seem to serve any purpose, too much detail), but reading about me complaining about that for dozens of paragraphs probably wouldn’t be very fun. So I won’t put that everywhere and this will be more about judging the items in relation to each other than how they’d fare against all fantasy item designs I know.

Especially with the season I haven’t seen it was a bit bothersome to see if an item was weapon or not, so I just made some quick judgements. I’ll do the other items that aren’t in this or the other precure item posts later.

Futari wa Precure

Not a huge fan of these kind of items where the design philosophy seems to have been “it doesn’t have to resemble a weapon in any way, a pink plastic thing with buttons will do”. I’m not against all weapons looking incredibly impractical (like I love Mew Ichigo’s Strawberry Bell) but here these just look incredibly bland and cynical to me (I mean cynical in a different way than me).

I was going to be more generous with this since I thought it was a bow and bows are always elegant weapons and I’m always happy to have those regardless of how dumb the design looks, but reading the wiki I guess this is a baton instead. Boo! Still I like how it can be both a heart and also be bent open. The design makes me think of a baby toy though with all the round corners.

Futari wa Precure Splash Star

I like how the girls wear their items differently and the way the heart is framed is nice. But apart from that I don’t find these particularly aesthetically appealing, and they also look a bit too busy compared to the rest of the costume. Busy item designs are less of a problem if its a handheld item that’s clearly not a part of the base design, but when the characters are supposed to wear the item it often looks very out of place, as if it was just tacked on because the marketing team demanded it. Okay I’ll stop with this now

Not pictured: the versions with a star instead of heart, but they look otherwise the same and I like the heart better.

Yes! Precure 5

We now reach weapons I actually like! They’re pleasantly simple without unnecessary buttons everywhere, but with the tulip-like design with the cute little swirl there’s actually some point to it and it’s not just haphazardly placed buttons and lights and jewels. And as a fan of customisation I really like how everyone has their own take on the item. The pink girl apparently doesn’t feel the need to fit the theme though and hers is a lot less interesting to me, but at least it can sort of look like a flower (more like a butterfly though) so it’s not completely out of place.

Laser swors? That is a good idea. The flower is pretty too but I’d prefer it if it was a bit smaller, now it looks a bit unbalanced, and also why does everyone have to have a pink one again? Meanwhile the powerup version looks a lot more cheap, busy and gaudy.

Not a fan of this one, it feels like a portable lottery wheel, which would be a fun idea if Milky Rose had to work around with an item that gives her random powers, but I’m guessing that’s not the case. Another option would be that she’d use this to cut pizza. The blue roses and purple handle would make for a pleasant colour scheme, but then there’s the rainbow mini roses which break that, I think this would look more appealing if the roses were detachable and she’d attach the one she wants to use, but I guess the spinning wheel is supposed to be the Thing here.

Fresh Precure!

Pretty standard magical girl wands, white with obligatory pink for everyone and rainbow lights. At least everyone gets a crystal thingy at the tip in their own colour and card suit and it’s nice that they use their items differently (though Berry this is not a sword no matter how you try to slice it) but otherwise I’m not really interested.

Nice colours and the wing is cute, and I actually like the bizarre idea here. Like you could add power to the harp with the heart while playing it, or attach different attacks or whatever. But this exemplifies my main issue with the Precure items: okay, you can’t sell an actual harp with actual strings to kids so you sell this instead, ok. But why does the item in the show have to be a 1:1 replica? Disney can sell Elsa’s castle legos or inaccurate cheap-looking dolls but the counterparts in the movies look perfectly serviceable, so why can’t Passion have actual strings in her harp instead of these huge led lights?

Heartcatch Precure!

I like the metallic or glassy sheen at least in this shot and the shape of the handle. What I don’t like is the middle heavy design, I’d rather have the rainbow thing in the middle (which I’d prefer not be rainbow) either be smaller and moved to the tip, or the end part being longer so it’d look a bit like a sword.

This one is rather basic, like it’s just a circle with hearts around it. But at least it doesn’t do anything stupid and the colour palette checks out.

Suite Precure

I like the idea of being able to split the item in two but especially Rhythm’s looks a bit silly when it’s not in two parts, like now it’s not a baton or staff or really anything I could describe. But somehow I still like Melody and Rhythm’s items, at least they have consistent colour schemes and despite initially looking very different actually use the same base so that’s nice customisation. But how come the pink girl didn’t get the more ornate one? The guitar looks more on the cheap side, this is a toy guitar, not a magic guitar. And are those multicoloured buttons I spy again? But thanks to the more calm colour palette it’s not the worst toy guitar ever at least.

Smile Precure!

My first impression on this was “wow this is so dumb”, but the horse’s sleeping eye with the glamorous eyelashes makes it loop back to awesome. This is girly fairy tale magical girl design cranked up to eleven and I can only marvel the boldness. However like with the Heartcatch wand this one feels a bit unbalanced, the bottom and middle are pretty big so I’d prefer if the “blade” part was a bit longer and again the rainbow hears feel unnecessary.

Based on design alone this is a contender for my least favourite battle item, but I’ll have to hold my full judgement until I see it in action. But this has it all, there’s obligatory pink and rainbow, overdesigned, looks very cheap and gaudy.

Doki Doki! Precure

This is some seriously extreme lipstick. I guess this is a serviceable design if you want to make a lipstick based weapon, it’d probably not look very impressive if it was regular size. I like the twist-able red jewel, and the fact that while she can use different lipstick colours, the item sticks to just red and yellow.

Here we have the collapsible bow I was hoping we’d get with Shiny Luminous. Apart from the obligatory pink palette for everyone I really like these, again bow makes for a great weapon, and I also like its collapsed form, that thing just invites you to press a button and have it open up. Though holding the bow looks kind of awkward. And is this the largest Precure weapon we have? Where are the huge staffs?

For starters, I find there’s something absolutely hilarious about the name “Magical Lovely Pad”. Story-wise it has the baggage of belonging to an attack where the other characters send their power to Mana (of course) so she can take all the spotlight, but as far as the design goes I guess it’s alright for a magical tablet. And I thought this was one of the items where it just floats in the air awkwardly but apparently the Cures do hold it in their hands, so points for that.

The harp is kind of silly looking but i have to commend it for at least having the strings not be thick as a straw.

Happiness Charge Precure!

A pretty straightforward item, nice colour palette and the heart ribbon things at the ends are the same as the bracelet and resemble the brooch too so it’s consistent with the reset of the items in the season. I also like how it can be split into maracas too.

I think the idea of a star-shaped tambourine is perfectly serviceable, but this one just looks kind of cheap, like we’re in the baby chew toy category again. But I feel this could be salvaged if you gave it a more harmonious colour palette, made the heart look more like a crystal and the jingles metal (i.e. not so plastic-y).

This one always felt hilarious in that you have a grown man character showing interest in this thing. But as a weapon it’s one of my least favourites. The makeup pens that come with this are fine I guess (though the makeup the girls put on themselves looks like the “this character doesn’t know how to use makeup” kind) but the main item is very unappealing to me. I guess it boils down to the fact that this kind of items feel more like that the Cures just push a button and then the item does its magic light blast of goodness and love on its own, while with the wands and musical instruments and such the Cures feel more like they’re actively using the weapon.

Go! Princess Precure!

An alright wand, even if the tip feels a bit too heavy. The mostly white-and-goldd design is a lot more preferable to the usual pink, the dress up keys get to take a part, and the tip looks a bit like a crown.

This is in the same category as Passion’s harp, nice colour palette and a musical instruments make for a great magical girl weapon in theory, but here the result is just too cheap and toylike. No way I can imagine a violin sound coming out of this, the only thing I hear is two pieces of plastic rubbing together.

This is it, the worst item. Magical girl weapons don’t all need to resemble actual weapons, but there are some limits to how far you should go. Out of all the Precure items this feels the most like the toy department just said “we want to sell a toy castle, so have the main characters play with one in every episode after its introduction”. Can’t they use a less awkward item to conjure this castle around them and sell a miniature version of that as a dollhouse or something?

As a toy this is fine, like I had a similar little castle (it was semi-transparent blue and you could turn on a pink light in it) and sure I could imagine placing some Pikachu toys on it and have them dance, but as a weapon in a story I hate it.

Mahou Tsukai Precure!

These look pretty nondescript and forgettable. At least they don’t have multicoloured beads running down the staff, but there’s not much to talk about.

This one is cute but kind of basic too; the gold butterfly feels a bit unnecessary but if you remove it the whole thing would be pretty bland. Still, there’s nothing overly stupid and I like that the flower bud doesn’t miss the obvious that it should open in an attack.

Kira Kira Precure A La Mode

This one is a bit too bulky, but at least it makes it stand out a bit more. It also helps the item not look so unbalanced with the huge glass (?) ball in the middle. And it’s nice how you can see the Kira Kiraru in it; it makes the item feel more real when you get to see the resource it uses. The cream like decorations are cute and appropriate and the walking cane shape reminds me of the candy filled plastic canes I used to get from the summer market as a kid.

I got nothing on this, it’s another magical girl wand that doesn’t particularly stand out in any way. At least the rainbow buttons fit the theme this time?

Google tells me it’s an actual product, but to me ‘creamer’ still sounds like a Wrong kind of name to use in a kids’ show. That aside the idea of piping cream on the enemy is fun, but I don’t think they do that in the attack... But for the potential I like the design; unsurprisingly I’d remove the multicoloured decorations on the handle but otherwise it’s alright.

Hugtto! Precure

This one feels really generic, white staff with pink accents and rainbow jewel thingies. Not interested, next!

These look a bit too bulky for my taste, I think they’d look better if the neck was longer. The colours are also a bit too gaudy for my taste (and the guitar totally disappears in Macherie’s dress), though in their defense in better pictures you can see they have more white so the result isn’t quite so stuffy. But still magical guitars make for a good weapon for idol themed characters.

This feels really generic, like it’s just a bunch of hearts glued together. Next!

Star Twinkle Precure

The wand is pretty basic, but there’s something in its simpleness that I like. If you removed the pink and purple crown thingy it would be better, like only neutral white and gold, and everyone’s theme colours equally in the shooting star (or I guess the star is also yellow for Soleil but it still feels more neutral than the usual pink). With its many colours and short tail the shooting star feels like something from a baby nursery but I guess if the tail was longer it’d start feeling more like a sickle.

As for the prefume bottle, I don’t find the design particularly attractive, and it also feels like yet another case where pink has been shoehorned in. And the little ribbon feels very unnecessary.

Healin’ Good Precure

My criticism on Passion’s harp also applies here, and this time I also find the overall design less appealing with several of the details feeling a bit tacked on.

(the wands have already been bitched at in the henshin item post)

#precure #stuff #ranking #Anonymous #responses #Hapuriainen bitches about children’s cartoons

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proper-goodnight · 4 years ago

Text

Detroit: New Beginnings

Summary: It has been one year since the androids claimed their rights to freedom after the revolution, and one year since Connor has decided to stay on the force at the DPD. The duo are currently working on a case involving androids going missing while Connor grapples with what he almost did to Markus at the peace rally and fearing Amanda’s inevitable return.

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Violence, Strong Language

A New Start: Partners (01)

Detroit Police Dept.

August 30, 2039

12:30 P.M.

Tuesday

Chris abandoned his wife’s pastries on the counter in the break room.

Over the years, it had become an unspoken rule to not berate him for the fact that Hank could count the people that were brave enough to try his wife’s newest lifestyle kick for that week on one hand.

For all of the employees on the force, that wasn’t a lot. He didn’t need any special probability and statistics program to figure that out.

But, it wasn’t like Hank hadn’t tried. He had, but only once--and couldn’t keep a straight face or control his gag reflex enough to even think about trying it again. Their outward appearance had been what threw him for a loop initially; being made of enough random herbs and healthy shit couldn’t sway the uncanny resemblance between it and actual shit and no amount of Chris promising such couldn’t and would never convince him otherwise.

While Hank may have never cared about what he put in his body, he was still not ignorant enough to test whether or not his tolerance extended to something beyond alcohol or cigarettes. Some days, Connor’s habit of sticking evidence in his mouth suddenly didn’t sound so fucking revolting.

God, if the kid heard him say that…

In that same area of the precinct, a loud continuous whirring of a coffee machine grinded endlessly. DPD staff shuffled around it eagerly awaiting its cycle to complete, and Gavin had ingested just enough caffeine to erupt into his usual cacophony of loud remarks and comments about fuck-all that morning.

Of course the prick couldn’t grant them reprieve for even a few minutes.

Hank supposed if he didn’t then the fucker was either late or… late. It wasn’t like he ever called off.

No, they couldn’t be that lucky.

“No fucking way!” And to complete the morning, here Hank was with a deafening insistence in his tone that left little room to argue over Connor’s suggestion for the umpteenth time that morning. “I have had enough birthdays! I am getting too damn old for this shit!”

In response, Connor looked contemplative, but even more so, unsatisfied with his decision.

Typical Tuesday.

Sitting hunched over his desk, Hank sifted through piles of papers for his tablet. It furthered his incessant personal reminding that he should probably take a few minutes and clear his desk of all of his personal clutter--all of the memorabilia piling up over the years was beginning to make finding anything nigh to impossible, another indication made clear when he bumped a couple of pens to the floor with his elbow.

Cursing, he dismissed it to the abyss below his desk, staring at the screen with faux concentration. The contrast between their work stations was proving more apparent as the days went on, Connor’s completely clean of surface clutter and retaining a fresh sheen despite having claimed it a little over a year ago.

Besides the mess, the spinning yellow circle glaring at him just outside of his peripherals held his focus, having more recently recognized it as a sign of the android’s thinking--thought processing. Whatever.

Connor’s brows were furrowed, eyes fixed on him as if deciding in some sort of situational software that he had of some other option that would help move their conversation into a more positive direction, something that would somehow change it in his favor. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Hank wasn’t going to take any bait.

The android’s lips parted to speak, but Hank was already turning away, grumbling incoherently under his breath.

And nothing that he would reiterate unless Fowler was going to lecture him about playing nice with his co-workers. Again.

Perched on the only unoccupied corner of his desk, arms crossed over a broad chest, Connor worked a tick in his jaw. If androids had actually possessed the need to breathe--and their biocomponents that simulated breathing were actually functional for that sole purpose--the asshole may have just sighed. For the briefest of an instance, he caught his partner’s stoic expression, tight-lipped and silently asking for some sort of agreement between the pair.

It wasn’t offered.

“I have been researching human cultural practices and I thought that maybe--”

“Drop it. You want to celebrate, then do it for yourself why don’t ya? Celebrate your one year since deviating. That’s in a couple of months.”

Connor almost looked thoughtful, features folding over in confusion as he worked through some sort of response. Hank’s celebration into an even older age was many in the long list of arguments that the two seemed to have, but it was also one of the only topics that Connor seemed ever insistent to talk about that didn’t revolve around a case.

That made it unavoidable.

Goddammit.

“I don’t think that qualifies as the same thing, Lieutenant.”

“Take my word for it. Let’s just go over the case.” To further his point, he swept his hand over the case files that had piled up on his desk the last couple of weeks. One large unorganized mess of manila folders and reports. “If Jeffrey dumps any more shit about it on my desk, I’m going to resign it.” It was a harmless jab in an effort to get Connor motivated, anything involving the words case or leads never failed to catch his attention.

Connor straightening from his rare hunched posture proved that fact rang true.

Even after finally closing the deviancy case.

The conversation, begrudgingly, wasn’t done though. It would be brought up again eventually. Unless the kid forgot or got distracted with something else.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

Connor never forgot. He didn’t possess the ability to forget. Maybe his stubborn nature could be argued with but in the last year or so being his partner, it was something that Hank faced with raw aggression and chose to avoid.

“Could’ve originated from the peace rally.” Hank went on, rubbing at his chin with faux concentration at the various folders opened up in front of him. He didn’t think any of them were relevant to their current case anyway. “The dates between that and the first android incident are pretty damn close together. Then again, maybe it’s just a weird coincidence.” The words unfolded into a low mutter under his breath, slumping back against his chair.

He spinned to the side to assess the clutter, a quick sweeping gaze over the mess and he retrieved the file that they needed and extended it to the android.

Connor’s eyes had followed every movement, and Hank assumed he was judging his lack of organization.

At least he kept his mouth shut if he was.

“Two guys were sent to the hospital last night.” Hank went on.

“According to the reports from Officer Miller, they were walking home from a Red Ice Anonymous meeting.” Connor confirmed.

Of course he’d kept up to date.

“They were jumped. He went to ask them some questions, bust aside from a brief statement, we ain’t getting much out of ‘em right now.” While he spoke, Connor flicked through it with practiced precision while simultaneously picking it apart. For what he already didn’t know, and Hank didn’t figure that was a lot.

And while it would be denied for the rest of Hank’s life, he would never admit that he was even somewhat jealous of Connor. If humans possessed the ability to see anyone’s information by a quick scan or retaining an entire casework of information in a few seconds, the meeting and getting-to-know-you shit of social relationships would be made easier by miles. Then again, he didn’t need any superior programming to know that his time would be better spent at home with Sumo.

“According to their file, Mr. Greene and Mr. Nicholson did in fact have a Red Ice history in the past.”

“That bit checks out with what Chris managed to get from ‘em at least. Not the worst druggies I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with.” A smirk pulled at one edge of his lips. If they were the worst of the worst, his job would have been a lot easier and most cases would be an opened and closed one.

“Possession and usage that earned them a few months jail time.” Connor confirmed, turning a suddenly quizzical gaze in his direction, dipping his chin. His brows pinched. “Wasn’t Detective Reed assigned all cases involving Red Ice?” The mention of their most eccentric detective was enough to pull a look of discomfort from the android.

Maybe it was the ill memory of the beating that he’d been forced to give him in the evidence room last year. Either way, Hank swore that Connor had some kind of satisfaction from it. He didn’t think so.

The bloody nose that he had given Perkins however? Fucking classic!

“He is, but there was Thirium found at the scene. No fingerprints on the weapon that was likely used in the attack. We’re looking at another Carlos Ortiz case except we can push an android through a fair trial now.”

Connor closed the case folder in his lap, his fingers plucking gingerly at the corner. That spinning yellow circle glared accusingly. “If the claims of their whereabouts are in fact correct, then I think that our best course of action is to question them ourselves. Maybe they can recall more when the shock period has passed. Distinct characteristics, how many androids there were in total, even.”

“Not to bust your balls kid, but we can’t scan a serial number like you can. Not to mention all of you androids have the same face. There’s no record of them ever owning an android, but…” Hank threw up his hands in surrender. “Maybe there’s a past history we don't know about. We’ll follow another lead over the next few days,” he decided. “See if they can’t give us anything else by the end of the week.”

With that, Hank breathed out a long-winded sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as though fighting off a headache. Connor was a headache enough, the case being the migraine. He waved his free hand over his desk. “Take your pick. God knows we’ve got plenty.” A pained laugh slipped past his lips, almost incredulous. Borderline sympathetic.

For them.

Propping his elbow on the chair’s armrest, he leaned his head against a curled fist. His partner’s gaze was distant, even as Hank tried to meet it with a vague curiosity of his own.

He waited.

“What are you thinking, Connor?” No response was offered, that same accusatory yellow glaring at Hank just out of the corner of his eye.

Connor’s features folded, looking to an empty space at his right. Upon further inspection, Hank noted that nothing was there, looking between the two confirming the assumption that he was in some far off place elsewhere. An abrupt snap of his fingers in front of Connor’s nose brought him back. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head. “Nothing. Nothing relative to our case.”

“Any other time you’re pulling leads out of your ass.” The remark was followed by an exaggerated sigh. His eyes rolled to the side. “This is the first time that you don’t wanna input your opinion? Finally hit a damn wall with enough dead leads, didn’t ya?”

A slight tug pulled at one edge of Connor’s mouth, working a tick underneath a rigid jawline. “Hilarious, Lieutenant.” He mumbled.

“It was a pretty damn good joke in my opinion." With a dismissive hand gesture--a quick slice of his hand through the air--he reached across his desk to retrieve one stack of case files. It didn't account for the other large piles but hell, it was a start.

“That is a personal opinion.”

“What the fuck ever.” Running a shaky hand through his hair--something else that Connor blamed on Hank's poor diet--his gaze never left him, flicking over his rigid form with a blatant curiosity. "We should go talk to Markus. There’s a good chance that he would know somethin'?"

And then Connor moved from his perch. Carefully--stiffly was a better way of putting it--around the edge of the desk. Long precise fingers fumbled for the coin in his pocket. It rolled across his knuckles, coming to a complete stop as it was flicked into the opposite palm. Hesitation made the movement rigid, not as fluent as it normally would be. A tick worked itself underneath a rigid jawline. Connor didn't look at him, and instead passed by to his own desk.

"You haven't seen him since the peace rally," Hank prodded. "I think it's about time we paid him a visit, don't you?"

"I don't know," He answered in what was almost a whisper, voice low. Unsure. "I've assessed the database's files and all of the reports involving our missing androids. I have only come to the conclusion that older models, or new deviants are being reported disappearing from Jericho. That and it's still limited to Detroit and only a few surrounding cities.” He shrugged. “So far."

Connor shook his head in defeat. "My most recent solution was to send a scan parts to Cyberlife, but-"

"All of the missing reports we’ve managed to solve end with the android self destructing and destroying their systems," Hank finished for him. "That and its considered murder with your rights. Can't just go pulling apart an android and not expect to get your ass busted."

"I do not know if an exception can be made for some kind of malfunction. I could probe its memory, but there is no evidence as to how that would affect my own systems."

"Keeping you at a distance makes the shit harder." Hank agreed, and other than nodding in response, Connor offered no comment. "Until we can figure out if it can be spread, there isn’t much that you can do."

"Why don't you take your chances and see what the hell happens?" An all too familiar and unapologetically arrogant voice drew closer to their desks. Gavin came to a full stop at their desks, arms folded over his chest with a smirk that never ceased to infuriate him. Both of them, he assumed.

He grimaced.

Fucking asshole.

"Fuck off, Reed. Don't you have your own case?" Hank grumbled, an edge to his tone that Gavin brushed off a condescending smirk.

"Unlike you and the plastic prick, I've actually made headway." Gavin boasted, his interest in Hank diverted to Connor who watched passively. Most of the time he acted as if Gavin was gum under his shoe that he could scrape on the sidewalk and be done with. Like he couldn't be bothered even when he had a gun in his face and death threats on his name. Hank had been guilty of that look once.

Gavin was full of shit, but Hank wouldn't put anything past him. Even now.

"Hey plastic," Gavin halted in front of the android, squaring up his shoulders. The situation would have been alarming if the difference in height wasn't so obvious. Reed had to look up to address him and Connor responded by raising his eyebrows, tilting his head to the right.

"Hello, Detective Reed."

"I thought that after the walking toasters were suddenly recognized as people you would leave. A detective android prototype hunting androids is still doing the exact same damn thing." He sneered.

"I assessed that it would be appropriate to remain in the android crimes department to further offer my assistance to the DPD." His hands folded in front of him, meeting Gavin's eyes with that usual infuriatingly neutral expression. The little twitch in Connor's facial features gave him away however, signaling his annoyance at the detective's harsh jobs.

Gavin didn't see it, but Hank knew him well enough that it was impossible to miss.

"Yet you're still wearing your Cyberlife threads. I'd almost think that you liked hunting 'em down. Does it give you a sick thrill, prick?"

"Reed!" Hank interjected, rising stiffly from his desk chair. "That's enough."

"I believe that wearing my uniform shows more professionalism than a leather jacket and a relentlessly hostile attitude, Detective." Connor's brows raised and relaxed sequentially, a slight and subtle twitch pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"The hell did you just say to me, tin can?" Gavin leaned forward, hand clenching at his side into a fist that he pulled back and took aim on the android.

"I said that's enough!" Hank barked, shoving himself in between them.

Gavin was shoved back a few steps.

Connor didn't budge.

"Back off! Can't you ignore him for five fucking minutes?"

"Fuck," An enraged gaze flicked between Hank and Connor. Gavin snarled in frustration, one hand slipping seamlessly into the pockets of his jacket, the other pointing an accusing finger in the android's direction like it hadn't been the detective that had approached them with the intention of starting shit.

Hank scoffed.

"I'll never so much as tolerate the plastic asshole. The day there are two of him is the day I put in my resignation." One last threatening glare was thrown their way, the threat released into a spat. Before either could comment, Gavin was storming off, cursing incoherently under his breath.

Surprisingly it had gone better than most of the other times. Hank would have admitted that.

Evidently, every altercation passed by Connor without a second thought. Hell, maybe not even a first. The evidence room incident remained the only time that the android actually retaliated on him. That being that he needed to in order to accomplish his mission.

Still, he caught Connor's expression as Gavin was leaving. He watched him through distrusting slits, LED flashing yellow for a split second before correcting itself. His jaw was tense, something dark stirring within him, something troubled that Hank didn't quite recognize. It was only when Hank actually decided to speak that Connor finally looked at him, eyes softening into something more calm, relaxed. Normal.

"Let's go ask Markus some questions. Any idea where he might be?" In a gesture of reassurance that didn't quite reach him, Hank placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Markus has been overseeing the conversion and stock of dormant androids at the remaining Cyberlife stores. We can pull up those that have yet to be listed as maintenance and distribution centers and start there." And as if nothing had changed, as if the threat from the DPD's most eccentric detective had already been forgotten--at least it would have been if he wasn't squirming underneath a clenched jaw--the task of talking to Markus seemed to unnerve him more. Talking to the deviant leader was a task that Connor was less inclined to do over listening to Reed berating him every chance he got.

The observation was a question for later, and truthfully Hank didn't anticipate an answer.

Connor stepped back to allow him through first, Hank's hand slipping from his shoulder to dangle uselessly at his side instead. Expression falling flat, he waved him through. "After you, Lieutenant."

#detroit connor #hank and connor #detroit become human #post revolution #peaceful ending #one year later #fanfiction #long fic #dbh connor #connor dbh #detroit: become human #hank dbh #dbh hank #hank anderson

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dailydaydreamings · 5 years ago

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 8

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

The very first thing you did after opening the package was to throw it into a drawer. Wrapping and all.

It would have been the sweetest gift had it come from Bucky. Coming from Steve, it made you feel a little queasy.

The rest of the morning you stated vaguely at your screen, mulling over your relationships. When Steve finally knocked on your door, you barely managed, “Come in.”

“Hey,” he greeted. You nodded in acknowledgment, folding your hands in front on you on the desk. “Did you get my gift?” He handed you your tea, clearly looking for the frame.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. “Steve sit,” you motioned at a chair.

Frowning, he did as he was told.

“I did see it, the thing is Steve, it feels a little wrong to put it on my desk,” you admitted.

His reaction was immediate, complete confusion and utter bewilderment, “Why.”

You could feel a burning sensation in the back of your throat as you started, quite hoarsely, “We’re not together anymore, Steve.”

He threw his hands in the air, “And I can’t declare that I love my children.”

You pursed your lips, trying to compose yourself. “Yet, I would still have to look at it everyday. And it was clearly meant for me.”

He stood, pacing in front of you, “Is it so wrong that I still love you.”

You closed your eyes at his admission, trying to get control of yourself. You felt a tear slide down your face and you quickly brushed it away.

“You still love me too,” he crooned.

You opened your eyes, he stood in front of you, with his hands braced on the back of the chair.

“I do,” you said as another tear leaked down your cheek. “But I’m crying because I’m carrying two babies inside of me who are fucking with my hormones and I feel like I’m losing control. It’s been over for us since you walked out when I told you I’m pregnant.”

You kept a cool head, despite the tears now freely streaming down your face. Fuck Steve. How dare he make you cry.

He looked so hurt by your admission, like he was closing into himself, trying to make himself smaller.

You squared your jaw, grabbing for a pen to fiddle with. “Need I remind you that you told me to get an abortion after I’d already started picking names for my children, which would cause me to have to pick between you and Bucky? That I didn’t want to pick, but you forced my hand so I chose. And I didn’t pick you.”

He flinched at your words, before whispering, “But I changed my mind, y/n.”

You snapped the pen in half and stood.

“You walked out when I told you about your children, and then didn’t speak to us for weeks. You got into a fist fight with Bucky. You told me to get an abortion. You’ve been nothing but cold with Bucky and flirty with me. You still want me to pick you, but the only your getting back on my life is by making things right with him so we can all be together again. Get the fuck out of my office.”

He blinked in surprise, but didn’t say anything as he left. He didn’t even look back. Weeks of pent up emotion had come up all at once and you were a sobbing mess on your office floor.

You managed to text Tony that you were going home early and Bucky to ask him to drive you home.

The next two weeks passed in a blur. You and Bucky had started prepping the apartment for the babies and you’d been extremely tired.

At 15 weeks, Bucky was so excited to tell you the babies were the size of apples. Doctor Lawrence told you they were definitely bigger than apples, as developed as 15 week fetuses, but just bigger.

You were starting to show too in tighter clothing. Not a lot, but enough.

Enough that when you looked in the mirror and cradled your belly, it was all so much more real. There’s so much more to do before they come, and then, you need to care for them, somehow.

Steve had stopped meeting you at the entrance in the morning and evening, and bringing you tea. The only time you saw him was in passing and at your ultrasound. At the latter, he didn’t say a single word, and left as soon as it was over.

You felt terribly, of course, but you tried to remind yourself it was for the best.

Everything changed the day you walked into the building and directly across from your office was a giant chalkboard. You and Bucky frowned at each other in confusion before walking up to Tony who had a piece of chalk in his hand.

“What’s this?” You asked, but you very quickly realized what it was.

“A little betting poll,” Tony said.

Indeed.

In swirling text it said, Guess the Sex. Below that, there were three columns: Two Boys; One of Each; Two Girls. Below each header was room for one to write their name and the amount they were betting.

Tony had written his name under two boys for fifty thousand dollars.

Steve had also participated it seemed and had written him name under Two Girls for two hundred dollars.

“Are you fucking kidding me Tony?” You asked, gesturing to the absurd amount of money.

“I’m trying to get people to play,” he threw up his hands in the air. “Besides, I have a feeling.”

You rolled your eyes.

Bucky took the chalk from Tony, “Well so do I,” he said, writing his name under One of Each for five hundred.

You snatched the chalk from him and said, “You’re wrong.” You put your own name down under Two Boys for a thousand. “It would only be my luck to have a house filled with boys.”

Tony laughed, “Thank you, mama!” He held out his hand for a high five, which you obliged. “You are finding out the sex, right?”

You looked at Bucky and he shrugged. You looked back at Tony and said, “Maybe.”

His protests followed you as you walked into your office, and then the fun began.

Naturally, Natasha came by your office first. She took one look at the wall and wrote her name under Two Girls. She strutted into your office and demanded to know when you’d know the sex.

You laughed, leaning back in your chair, “I don’t know, Nat. I had my last ultrasound yesterday and I don’t even know if I want to know.”

She shook her head and declared, “You want to know.” Before promptly leaving your office.

Bruce was next. He came into ask you for something, and took a seat in front of you. “So how are you feeling?”

You smiled, “Pregnant.”

He laughed, “I’m honestly surprised we’re having this conversation.”

You bit your lip, so we’re you. A year ago, this would have been the last predicament you saw yourself in.

“But it’s good!” Bruce assured you. “Babies are natural.”

You laughed. “I’m actually really excited, Bruce. I wasn’t. But I am now.”

“That’s really good,” he grinned. “You know I saw this documentary about monitoring babies development after birth until a year and I —”

“Bruce,” you interrupted, “I love you, but no. Definitely no.”

“Right!” He stood up. “Of course not. It’s not even my area of expertise.”

You chucked as he turned towards the door and jumped in surprise at the chalk board.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “When did this get here?”

“This morning,” you called after him.

He examined it for a moment before writing his name under Two Boys.

The rest of the day went by with various coworkers stopping by to write their names on the board. Most were either for two boys or one of each. Tony’s large bet was certainly getting people to play.

Clint walked by around the time you were packing up, a sucker in his mouth.

“Nice Tony,” he said, picking up the chalk and writing his name under Two Girls.

“You seriously think I’m having two girls?” You asked coming up beside him to look at the board.

“God no,” he said. “I think you’re having two boys. But there’s less people over here, bigger pay out if I’m somehow right.”

You blinked in surprised. He wasn’t wrong there was only 5 names unde Two Girls for the fourteen on the board. He’s stand to make large amount of money if he was right.

———

“So two boys?” Bucky asked as he made dinner and you sat on the counter.

“I have no doubt in my mind,” you said as you scrolled through Pinterest on your tablet for baby room ideas.

“But don’t you want a girl?” He asked.

You nodded, “But I have a feeling we’re having two boys.”

He paused, as if in thought. “I think we’re having at least one boy. I’m kinda scared of having a boy though,” he admitted.

You frowned, putting your tablet down, “Why?”

He shrugged, “I know girls are tough but there’s something that is so scary to me about a boy taking after me.”

You stroked your belly abscent mindedly, “I hope they take after you, Buck.”

He sighed, “I know none of it was my fault, I try to tell myself that everyday. But babe, what I can do...”

You hopped off the counter and came to wrap your arms around his waist. It had been a long journey with him. When you’d first come to work for the Avengers, one of the first things you’d done was to book Bucky’s first therapy session.

Nightmares and bad days had followed, as well as two years and counting for struggling to find the right doses of medications. That at least was getting better, right after you’d started sleeping together he was out on a particularly nasty dosage that made him both violent and quick to anger.

It didn’t change that he was the best man you knew.

“The babies will be so lucky to have you,” you murmured. “To teach them, to love them, to protect them. They’ll take after you, but only in good ways. So you better get used to thinking about two boys taking after you because there’s gonna be two of them.”

He laughed, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “You’re so sure.”

“Yep.” You pecked his lips. “Finish this, I’m starving.”

He laughed, “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Survivors on tonight,” you suggested, pulling out plates to set the table.

“Good choice,” he said.

You were just getting ready to sit down when Bucky’s phone rang. You didn’t complain as he picked it up and said, “It’s Steve.”

Pursing your lips, you picked up your own phone. Sure enough, Tony had texted: Barnes and Rogers are being sent on an assignment. Sorry :/ Come over if you’re lonely?

“It’s for work,” you said. “Pick up.” Because you still weren’t sure if he would.

He rolled his eyes and left the room. You picked at your dinner as you texted Tony back, Picking out furniture for the babies’ room and watching Survivor. My schedule is packed. Thanks though.

He texted back right away: Tomorrow night you’re coming for dinner then. And then, Odds they kill each other?

You smirked and replied with, 100% How long are they gone?

“I have to be gone for at least a week,” Bucky said coming back into the room. “Maybe more.”

You frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Didn’t say,” he pulled a takeout container from the cupboard for his dinner. “He’s picking me up in five and he’ll fill me in. He said to pack for the cold, whatever that means.”

You sighed. “Ok so I’ll make sure my next ultrasound is scheduled for when you get back.”

He shook his head, walking towards the bedroom. You followed. “Don’t skip one because I’m not here. We need to make sure they’re doing okay.”

You knew he was right, but for him to miss it...

You sat on the bed as you watched him pack, “Please don’t get into any fights with Steve while you’re out there.”

He rolled his eyes scooping clothes into his bag, “It’s not me you have to worry about.”

You pursed your lips, you weren’t so sure about that.

He saw your worried expression and came over to peck your lips. “It’ll all be fine, I promise. We’ll go, and when I get back, we’ll paint the babies rooms and you’ll have your baby shower,” he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “And everything will be fine.”

You weren’t too worried about the mission. Him and Steve killing each other was another story.

You still forced a smile into your face and kissed him properly. Both arms wrapping around his neck, kissing him like you needed it to breathe.

He chuckled, breaking free, “I can feel my phone buzzing, Steve’s here.”

You groaned but still followed him out the door. Steve was parked outside and raised a hand to wave as you walked out.

Bucky put his bag in the trunk and wrapped his arms around you, “A week.”

You nodded, “One week.”

He kissed you again, “You take care of my babies.”

You smiled, “Stay safe baby. I love you.”

He nodded, kissing you one more time. With so much fire and passion you wanted to take him back to bed. But you just kissed back harder and when he broke it, you let him go.

The window was open as he climbed into the car, you leaned forward, looking Steve dead in the eye as you said, “I don’t care if you two have issues, you take care of each other and you both come home safe.”

Because the reality was, it didn’t matter if they hated or loved each other. All you cared about was that they came home safe.

Tags (are open!)

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

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thewritingcaptain · 4 years ago

Text

Pepperony Pizza: Part 1

“I’m just glad to hear anything, Potts. Especially your voice again.” He stopped, sighing again. Pepper looked at him again, her brows drawing together. “What?”

Notes: Yeah, okay, totally unnecessary to title this that, but I’ve been wanting to, like, since I joined the fandom. It’s just to punny to pass up. Sue me.

Also, notice, this says it’s parts, not chapters, because this isn’t a coherent story so much as a series of oneshots about them. In canon, out of canon, random, fluffy, and yeah, a good chunk of the time, likely smutty. So. You’ve been warned ahead of time.

As always, let me know if anyone wants to be on the taglist, and enjoy!

(WARNING: Talk about trauma, to some extent, and smutty near the end. Post-IM1/AUy.)

The days almost seemed… longer.

It was odd. You’d think, spending three months imprisoned in a cave… well, every day seemed to last a week, and you would think it couldn’t get much longer than that.

Yet it had been mere days since he’d arrived home - only three - and the days had seemed to last… forever. Maybe it was just a combination of constantly being tired and sore and feeling a bit like a cranky child when he had to be in public for too long, or maybe it had more to do with his newfound appreciation for life. It was hard to tell.

After his press conference the first day, he’d gone home, and he hadn’t left the house since. But he’d had a dozen or so visitors over the course of the past few days, and at least double that in phone calls. A lot of them he’d forced on to Pepper, who had thankfully taken it like a champ.

Pepper. That woman had to be his savior. Not just because of her help since he’d gotten home, but in general. She’d run his life for him for the past… oh, upwards of five years at least, but his brain was still rather muddled, so give or take a few years. And she’d dealt with all his bullshit, his attitude, his responsibilities, and never said a word about it, except for rare occasions where he really deserved it.

Hell, he’d never even given her a raise. He should do that. He should double her current salary.

But more than what she did at home, she was what he had held on to those three months in the cave. When Yinsen has asked him if he had any family, he had to tell him nothing, because he truly had nothing. They weren’t really family; they were barely even friends, probably, as far as she was concerned. But she was all he thought about when he’d been asked that. She was all he had, all he really wanted to come back to.

And when he’d stepped off that plane… it took everything he had not to run to her. It helped that it had been taking everything he had to stay upright at the time, or he just might have, willpower or no. But if she had responded to his sarcasm with anything but, he probably would have returned it in earnest. Hell, it had been three months. She had a right to feel however she wanted, to leave if she wanted to, but she hadn’t. She was still there.

And he was happy about that. Even if he was exasperated at her fussing over him like he was an invalid or a child incapable of making his own decisions.

Which explained why he was currently being checked out by a doctor who had set up shop in the middle of his living room, despite his protests that he had no need for it, and she was sitting in the chair across from him, looking oddly smug.

He’d tried to resist for the first few minutes when the doctor had shown up, but in the end, he really did need treatment for some of his injuries. So he let him work on him with few protests. The only thing he did refuse was the cast he wanted to put his arm in and the IV fluids he wanted to pump into him. He was perfectly capable of rehydrating himself, and he’d be damned if they were going to cast a muscle issue just so he couldn’t use the arm. The sling would do fine when he wasn’t busy.

When the doctor finally left, Pepper was still sitting in the chair there, although her attention had long since moved on from focusing solely on him. Her long red hair was clipped - rather haphazardly, for as put together as she normally was - back out of her face, and while she was wearing her normal business attire, she hadn’t been bothered to do her makeup, either, and she wasn’t wearing heels with her ensemble like she normally did. She was still Pepper - still uber professional, still caring, still sassy and somewhat overbearing - but she also looked altogether more… normal. Human. Vulnerable.

Despite the witty banter they had going on, he - and everyone else really - knew that his disappearance had been hard on her. Even if she only thought of him as a boss, he’d been her entire life for several years, and him up and disappearing was more than enough to upset the fragile balance she managed to maintain between her life and his. For someone as hyper-scheduled and organized as Pepper, that in itself was enough to upset her.

He studied her as she worked, moving between a tablet and her notebooks, writing things down occasionally, but mostly scanning, chewing on the pen absentmindedly.

He sighed heavily, shifting a bit and letting out a small, pained groan. Her head shot up immediately. “Mr. Stark?”

“I told you not to call me that anymore.” He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath to manage the pain before opening them again. “And I’m fine. Although I’ll have you know I wasn’t half as sore until you brought that monster in here to poke and prod me.” He mock-scowled at her. “I should fire you. For… for misuse of company funds, and for doing everything else I directly told you not to do.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow at him. He could see the bemusement twinkling in her eyes, even if she tried to hide it with the pen by pressing it against her lips to smush down the little grin. “Tony, if you want a reason to fire me, go ahead. But we both know you couldn’t survive without me, especially right now.” She cocked her head at him. “And if you’re going to use money as an excuse to fire me, you’ve got way more ammo than you think.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow back at her. This was news to him. “Is that so?”

“The doctor coming here is hardly the only thing I’ve done without asking you in the past few months. It's only fair to tell you that I continued to receive a salary from you even though you weren’t here, and… well.” She shrugged. “Things had to be kept running somehow, the same way I had to live somehow.”

Tony just laughed, then winced a bit. Laughing aggravated his ribs and all the injuries to his diaphragm, but it felt good to do it again, regardless. “I’m glad to hear it. Someone had to take charge around here.” He shrugged. “And it’s not as if you didn’t deserve it.”

Her cheeks flushed with color, and she looked down. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m just glad to hear anything, Potts. Especially your voice again.” He stopped, sighing again.

Pepper looked at him again, her brows drawing together. “What?”

Tony just shrugged. He closed his eyes. “Would you do anything I asked you to, Pepper?”

She stared at him for a moment, chewing her lip. She would never get used to hearing him say her name. He had always just called her Miss Potts. She wasn’t sure if she liked this new, informal version of Tony better or not. Especially when he asked her questions like that. “What?” she repeated, her voice wavering a little.

Tony tore his eyes from the ceiling to look at her again, meeting her eyes. He had such pretty brown eyes, like melted chocolate. And in the dim light… she shook the thoughts away. Get a grip. “Well?” he asked, quietly. “Would you?”

“Tony, I…” Pepper hesitated. He didn’t normally ask questions like this. “Of course I would.”

“But would you, really? What if I asked you to do something you didn’t agree with, or that you didn’t want to do?”

Pepper stared at him for a moment, unsure. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, lowering her voice to match his. “It would depend on what you asked me to do and why.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully, looking away again. “So, you wouldn’t let me force you to do something, then? You wouldn’t feel like you had to listen to me, or else?”

“Is there an “or else” I should be afraid of, Tony?”

He looked back at her, clearly still lost in thought. “No. Not from me. Not anymore.” Not that he thought he’d really have fired her for refusing to do almost anything before, but he definitely couldn’t bring himself to do it now.

She nodded, just once, then looked away again. “Why? Was there something you wanted me to do?”

Tony just looked at her. Once upon a time he might have seen that as an invitation for an innuendo, but now… “Can I be honest with you about something?” She stared at him and nodded, bewildered but listening. “I…” he stopped and swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to get emotional, nor push her into anything. He’d just given up on hiding how he felt. “I’m sorry if this is...odd, and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. I just…” he looked at her, those brown eyes soft and sad in the dim light. “Can I hold you?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times in surprise. That was definitely not what she’d expected to hear. A lewd joke, maybe, but not… that. She didn’t know what to say.

There was only one answer, it seemed. She got up, moving over to him, and settling as close to him as she dared. He held his good arm out, and she leaned against him, burying her face in his side and closing her eyes.

He dropped his arm around her, squeezing her as tight as he dared. “When I was in that cave, Pepper…” he closed his eyes, and she looked up at him, watching him. “You were my driving thought. I can’t lie to you, not anymore. I thought about how I had nothing but you and as time went on… I wanted nothing more than to come back to you.” He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was watching him with watery eyes. “I owe you the truth, Pepper. I’ve wanted you so badly, for so long. And I’ve done everything I can to try to fill that void with something - someone - else. It’s worked about as well as you can see.” He stopped, his eyes searching her face.

“And I know it’s wildly inappropriate and that you have no return on the interest. But I know you’re okay with it to an extent, or we wouldn’t have made it this long, and you wouldn’t be here. Literally here, next to me, but you also wouldn’t have waited for me, or put up with my shit for the past… however many years it’s been.” He sighed and stopped again, looking down. “I know, I just said… a lot. But honestly… I just need to know. How you feel. Because if it’s nothing, I'll never bring it up again. But if it’s not-...”

He barely finished what he was saying before she leaned forward and kissed him, gently, barely, once, then again, deeper, and again. His good hand came up and cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer.

They kissed again, and again, for long minutes, the sweet passion building between them. Tony groaned against her mouth, pulling back after a long few minutes. “Pepper…” he leaned his forehead against hers. “God. I want…”

“I know.” Pepper cupped his cheek, staying close to him and feeling his heartbeat pulsing throughout his body. “But you’re not strong enough, not like you normally are. It won’t be what you want for your first time since coming back.”

Tony looked down at her, kissing her forehead. “Sweet as that is, Pepper…” he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her close. “I don’t really care about that sentiment right now. I want you. And if you can’t control yourself from taking me wildly, all the better, but…” he kissed her hairline again. “I only want you. I don’t need anything from you tonight except your naked body for me to taste and touch and…” he nuzzled her hair. “Honestly, I need to drive the night terrors away. Your screams will be more than satisfactory to do that without adding mine to the mix.”

Pepper looked up at him, her eyes wide. This was escalating quickly, but… She suddenly knew he was completely serious, and it was terrifying and empowering. “I could just suck you off and send you right to sleep on a natural painkiller,” she offered, only half joking. What she said was true, but so was what he wanted.

“Or you could just take off the blouse and that pencil skirt and bring yourself up to my level.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She stared at him for a minute, and he worried he’d overstepped and taken their back and forth too far. Then, “What did you want on your level? This?” She straddled his lap - carefully, not actually putting any weight on him - and leaned back a bit, unbuttoning her blouse slowly.

Tony groaned, watching her. His bad arm was sore, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from shrugging off the sling and reaching up and palming her breasts through her bra. She groaned a little in return, her nipples hardening instantly. “Jesus, Pepper. I’ve been staring at these for years.” He squeezed her breasts, then ran his hands down her back, cupping her ass. “And this.” He squeezed her butt, cupping each cheek firmly. She squirmed in his grasp, her skirt riding up her thighs.

He groaned again, the sight of the normally forbidden skin goading him on more. “Christ. Lay down.” He made to pushed her back on the couch in front of him, but she stopped him.

“I have a better idea.” She kissed him gently, once, ignoring his questioning look as she stood up, unbuttoning her skirt and letting it slide to the floor. She sent her blouse and blazer with it, leaving her in just a flesh tone bra and blue panties - oddly, a color that made her eyes pop - as she climbed back onto him.

This time, however, she didn’t sit back down, but indeed lifted herself up to his level, leaning over him, bracing her arms on the back of the couch. “Better?” she asked, half teasing as she kissed him again gently.

“Yes,” he murmured back, completely serious himself. He cocked his head at her. “Except for the panties. The bra can stay, I suppose, but… those have to go.” He raised a brow. “Get rid of them.”

“Oh, but I thought you’d like to do the honors?” She moved a little closer to him, swinging her hips right into his reach.

He shrugged, running his hands up her legs. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, sounding so much like his normal, cocky self in that moment that she had to smile. Then he peeled her panties down her hips, and the moment was forgotten as his eyes latched into the patch of hair between her thighs. “Good Lord, Potts.” His voice was suddenly huskier than he remembered it being even a moment ago. “If I’d known how far your perfection spread… I probably would have tried to order you into bed with me years ago.”

Pepper just laughed softly, already sounding breathless. “Tried being the keyword, Stark.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s impolite to stare, you know.”

“Oh, I’m going to stare, Potts. Give me a minute to get my fill.” He lifted his head, pulling her hips closer, resting his forehead against her hip. “If you don’t pull away right now, I’m going to touch you.” He glanced up at her, waiting for some kind of sudden rebuttal to how far they’d gotten. He hadn’t expected it to take this turn, but he wasn’t disappointed either.

“Do it if you dare, Stark.” Her voice was huskier than she expected.

“Challenge accepted, Potts.” He kissed her hip, nipping at it, then kissed across her waist to do the same to the other. “I’m going to need you to spread more, Pep.”

The pet name alone sent a shiver down her spine. She readjusted her stance some, spreading her legs wide for him and leaning heavily against the back of the couch.

“Better.” His voice was husky now too, and his long fingers grasped her hips, pulling her the last bit of distance toward him.

She gasped softly at the feeling as soon as his mouth brushed against her slit. He kissed right above it, then down it, back up, then did the same thing with his tongue. She couldn’t contain a soft whimper. He hummed softly, the sound only egging him on to dive deeper into her sensitive flesh. He slid his tongue into her folds, up on side, down the other, starting a wet circuit around them and never once hitting her clit.

“God, Tony…” her hips bucked against his mouth, almost of their own accord. This was the last place she’d expected to end up tonight, but it only made the whole situation all the hotter.

“Hold still,” was his only response, a gentle warning, before returning to his ministrations, running his hands down her legs as he tugged at each fold in turn with his teeth, then moved down, his tongue tasting at her entrance. She hissed through her teeth and then groaned as she felt him press his tongue into her, giving her hips gentle tugs to both force it deeper and make her massage it inside of her.

She panted softly, trying to heed his words and not move like he’d asked, but she couldn’t seem to hold still. She rolled her hips against his mouth, closing her eyes. He hadn’t even touched her clit, and her legs were trembling around his face. “Tony-“ She stopped, letting out an almost pained groan and tilting her head back. She wanted to grab his hair, force him to move on, but she didn’t trust herself to stay up if she let go of the back of the couch, and knowing Tony, he might actually stop if she tried to push him. “Please move on.”

He pulled back, glancing up at her through heavily lidded as eyes she panted above him. “Are you going to beg, Pepper?”

She swallowed thickly, feeling the subtle shift of his body, his fingertips creeping up her inner thigh. “If that’s-oh!” He pressed a finger into her, just one, starting to stroke the inside of her walls. “Good Lord, Tony, if that’s what you want, then yes!”

“It’s not a requirement,” he answered, almost absentmindedly, focusing on what he was doing to her more than anything. “But I suppose I could give you a little something in return if you did.”

He pressed a second finger into her, stroking her walls, and she knew he was searching for that spot that would make her scream without abandon. As it was, the feeling was enough to make her legs tremble and her eyes go unfocused. “Tony! Jesus… I’ll beg for whatever you want, but please! It’s so…intense...” she arched her back as best she could, panting slightly.

“Just like that is fine.” He couldn’t hide his bemusement, half-distracted as he rather was. Normally, he might have made her beg more, might have dragged this out as long as possible, but it had been so long, and it was Pepper, and he just couldn’t. He’d wanted to do this for so long that he couldn’t make himself do anything the way he might have before, because he didn’t want this to be like before. He wanted it to be different. He wanted her, and not just for tonight.

That thought in mind, he leaned forward again, showering her thighs with light kisses and nips before finally leaning back in and nipping at her clit lightly. She let out an incomprehensible cry, and he leaned forward, drawing it into his mouth and sucking at it, finally letting his fingers brush that spot on her upper wall. She cried out and jolted so hard that he had to readjust his grip on her hip and lean forward slightly to maintain what he was doing.

“Tony...oh… please, please… that’s so… too much…” She wasn’t even sure what she was saying anymore, only that she was barely holding herself up for how hard she was shaking and definitely wasn’t able to hold herself still anymore.

He just hummed into her skin, unable to answer and unwilling to pull back to do so. He could feel how close she was, could taste it in her arousal. On another night, with someone else, he might have stopped, might have teased and made them beg more, but even as the thought occurred, he dismissed it almost as quick. He knew he couldn’t - not now, not with her. So he just continued his steady rhythm, pumping and stroking his fingers in her and sucking her clit, letting his tongue tease it just enough-

She gave a loud cry and almost yelled something he could have sworn was an expletive, but was too caught up in her to fully catch as she came against his mouth, her body collapsing into his lap, unable to hold herself up anymore. Tony just grunted and winced slightly, but did his best to cover the pain as he could, cradling her against his chest and stroking his fingers through her hair gently as she laid against him, still panting and twitching with aftershocks of the pleasure.

Slowly, she came back to. She looked up at him and was surprised to find him watching her with those dark eyes, something like affection glowing in them. He smiled down at her, watching her closely. She could sense him searching for some bit of anger or regret of what had just happened, but he wouldn’t find any. She leaned up and kissed him gently instead.

He hummed into her mouth, the hand in her hair pulling her closer again, kissing her again until she desperately needed air. She pulled back then, sucking in deep breaths, watching him as he tilted his head back over the back of the couch and closed his eyes, clearly also trying to regulate his breathing. She smiled at the sight and leaned in, pressing a few soft kisses to his neck. He let out a low rumble of approval, his hands lazily running up and down her back.

He was able to relax for half a second before he felt her fingers fumbling at his belt and sighed, grabbing her wrists to stop her. “Pepper…”

“If you try to tell me right now that I don’t have to-“

“You don’t.” He lifted his head, looking at her again with dark, serious eyes. “You didn’t have to do any of that. I want to do this right, Pepper. Maybe we should wait.”

She sighed, putting a hand on his cheek. “Tony. Please. If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. But I want this too, okay? And I want you inside me. Now.” She somehow managed to sound pleading and demanding at the same time.

He groaned a little, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even have any condoms, Pepper.” Why she’d decided to do this now, of all times, he couldn’t fathom, but he couldn’t handle the way she was looking at him, and he could feel her hands hovering just above his groin, and it was too much.

“You don’t need any.”

Tony frowned a bit. He hadn’t pinned her for someone who’d be willing to be so… well, irresponsible. It seemed out of character for her. “Of course we need-“

“No, Tony.” She shook her head, cutting him off. “I’m on birth control. You don’t really think I could have handled working for you for so long if I was PMSing every few weeks, do you?”

“Oh.” He swallowed thickly. Under normal circumstances, he might have made a joke, but right now, with her sitting on his lap and looking at him like that, those blue eyes wide and earnest, he couldn’t find it in himself. “Alright, then.” He has no logical reason to say no, and he didn’t really want to, aside from his worry that this was all heat-of-the-moment and she’d regret it in the morning. But there would be no reasoning with her anyway even if it was, and he couldn’t deny how long he’d wanted this. So he just released her wrists and leaned back. “But you’ll have to control it. I don’t think I can.” He hated his weakness, but he knew it wasn’t possible.

“I think I can handle that.” She kissed his cheek and pulled his belt free, tossing it down on the couch.

Maybe she could, but he wasn’t sure he could. This would be a first for sure. He draped his arms over the back of the couch and let his head fall back again, feeling her undo his button and fly and finally reach in to pull him free. He groaned at the feeling of her hand, petite but firm, wrapping around his hard cock. Then she started pumping him, and he hissed through gritted teeth, his back nearly arching off the couch even as he grabbed her wrist. “Christ! Pepper that’s not what we agreed on,” he hissed in one breath, squeezing his eyes closed.

He could almost hear her pout as she murmured, “Fine. But if you think I won’t get you back…”

The rest of whatever she was going to say was lost as she shifted to be above him and sank onto him slowly. He groaned, his hands tightening on the back of the couch. “Holy shit, Potts.” He threw his head back, screwing his eyes closed. “Dear God, I hope you do, but right now…” He couldn’t finish.

It was far from the first time she’d heard him curse, but definitely close to being one of the hottest. “Move?” she suggested, leaning forward, her hands resting on his shoulders as she started to move her hips against his.

“Yesss,” he hissed, arching again under her and trying to meet her thrusts as best as he could in his position. “That’ll do.”

So she did, and he groaned again, tilting his head back and moving against her the best he could. It had been over three months and damn it if he wasn’t trying to shake these urges in him in favor of finding what really mattered but he knew inside that that was Pepper, or at least that it could be and that he wanted it to be desperately. So he gave her everything he could in his state, pulling her close and kissing her deeply and desperately as they moved in rhythm.

When she started to get close again, she turned her head away from his mouth and pressed her face into his shoulder, panting hard and letting out low whimpers and groans, her hips redoubling their movements against his at a resounding speed. He groaned, pulling her close as he could and hiding his face in her hair. He was getting there himself, and he could not be happier about how it felt, about the fact that he was buried deep inside her and about to come with her around him and she had not only not stopped him but was going to come with him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he let his own drop and wrap around her, pulling her close as he groaned into her hair. “Fuck, Potts…” She was wrapped around him completely, trembling and making all those hot sounds into his neck as she rode him. He kept one hand on her back, panting and closing his eyes as the other travelled down and around her body…

“Shit! Tony!” Pepper cried, her grip tightening on him as his hand slid right down to right above their coupled sexes and started rubbing her clit firmly. “God, I…”

He threw his head back. Hearing Pepper of all people curse was almost enough to do him in right there. “I know, Pepper. Fuck.” He brought his other hand to tilt her head up, bringing her face to his and kissing her deeply again. “Come, Pep. Come on,” he murmured against her mouth, and the shudder and cry he got in response, the way she cinched down on him as she released again, was enough to do him in a moment later.

This time he was too out of his own senses to really notice her going limp and shuddering against him. All he really knew was when he started to come back around, she was a weight on his chest and lap, clinging to him and panting softly again.

He slid his arms back around her, kissing her hair gently, and for a while they didn’t say anything. He couldn’t even make a smart comment like he normally might have, for fear of ruining the moment. So instead he just kept quiet and did what he’d originally asked her to let him do. He just held her.

After a little while had passed, Pepper shifted, looking up at him. He blinked down at her, surprised. He’d almost thought she’d dozed off. He was even more surprised when she spoke.

“You’re… not going to fire me, are you?”

“What?” He stared down at her, mildly horrified. “Why would I fire you?”

“Just…” she sighed. “Because you’re using me as a rebound. It’s obvious. And when it’s over-“

“It’s not going to be over. No rebound, nothing like that. Were you not listening to me?” He cupped her chin. “I’ve obsessing over you for years, Pepper, but what happened in that cave solidified for me that this is more than an obsession or pure lust. I want you. As mine. As a person and as a PA and as everything that comes with you. I’m not going to end this willingly and I’m certainly not going to fire you.”

Her mouth opened and closed slowly. “Oh.” She stared at him, her eyes wide and… wet, if he wasn’t mistaken. “But you… I mean, you’ve never… really?”

Tony couldn’t keep a small smile from growing on his face. “Really. Christ, do you really think I would have hesitated so long if I didn’t mean it? I was so afraid to fuck it up. I still am afraid of fucking it up. But if you really feel the same…” He looked down at her. “I want to try, for real, with you. Please. We can… we can completely start over, if you want to, and this doesn’t have to happen again. Jesus, I shouldn’t have let it happen now, but-“

She leaned up and kissed him, effectively cutting off whatever else he was going to stutter out. Tony rambling was a rare sight to see, and it was oddly adorable, but his insecurity, on the other hand, was not.

When she finally pulled back, he just stared down at her, looking unsure. “Pepper…”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “The past three months have been the worst of my life, Tony. I don’t need any more time to think about it than that.”

Tony stared at her as that sunk in, and then his eyes widened, almost comically. “Oh. I see.” Then his expression softened a bit, and his arms tightened around her, almost imperceptibly. “Me, neither,” he said quietly.

She smiled up at him, curling up tighter into his lap. Her head fell against his chest, and he automatically brought a hand up to comb through her hair as he held her close. It was quiet for a long few minutes again, and he simply reveled in holding her again. He could do this for hours. Days, even.

They never made it quite that far, though. She looked up at him, eyes still glossy. “As comfy is this is… I’m kind of cold, and I’m pretty tired.” She met his eyes. “Can we go to bed?”

Tony looked down at her, a fond smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “My bed?” he asked, just to check.

She quirked a brow at him. “No, mine,” she retorted, but she was clearly teasing.

He just shrugged. “Whatever suits you, Miss Potts. So long as you don’t expect me to carry you. I can barely carry myself right now.” He sat up, with some effort, which only served to prove his point.

Pepper laughed, kissing his cheek as she got up and gathered her clothes. “No. I can carry myself. Today, at least.”

“Fair enough,” Tony agreed amicably. He fixed his clothes - leaving him in stark contrast to her, as she didn’t even bother to put any of hers back on - before getting up and letting her lead him down the hall to his room. The silence before he speaks again is brief but comfortable. “Pepper?”

She glanced up at him. “Yeah?”

“Maybe we should…” He stopped, hissing a breath through his teeth. “Maybe we should… not do that again. For a while. I mean, I enjoyed it, and I hope you did too, but I… I really want to do this right. I don’t want to get comfortable and fuck it up. So if we could at least talk, perhaps, in the morning, when we’re both better rested and hopefully more clear headed-...”

“We’ll talk,” Pepper promised, smiling and giving his hand a gentle squeeze with the one that wasn’t holding her clothes in a bundle to her chest. “First thing in the morning. I promise.”

“Great.” He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse, but it was something, at least.

They entered his room, and he hesitated at the foot of the bed, gesturing widely at it for her to pick a side.

Picking a side is easy. Falling asleep in each other’s arms is even easier, even if it doesn’t entirely stave the nightmares away. But they work through that too.

And if their talk in the morning resulted in him breaking the resolution to start fresh and abstain for a while until they can rebuild foundations they so clearly already have… well, no one ever needed to know but them.

#pepperony #pepper potts #tony stark #tony stark and pepper potts #tony stark x pepper potts #pepperony fanfiction #cw: smut #nff #nff pepperony #pepperony fanfic #pepperony oneshot #mcu fanfiction #mcu au #post im1 #post iron man #iron man #pepperony fluff #pepperony pizza

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nullominous-q · 4 years ago

Text

This is not a warning.

I’m going to share a story with you. One, that I’m sure I don’t want to. Don’t really have a say in the matter here, something is bearing down on me. Making me sit down here in my room, making my fingers fly across the keyboard. I haven’t paused once since starting, which is odd for me.

It’s like I can barely control myself anymore, like I’m a puppet on strings. And I’m not sure I want to try and struggle, because I’m sure whatever is in control, wouldn’t be too happy with me. But strangely enough, I don’t feel like it’d hurt me.

It needs me. That’s for certain.

But what scares me, is how much it doesn’t need my family, my friends. So, here’s my story.

My life up until this week had always been normal, boring even. I’ve got two older sisters, my dad. My oldest sister, Len lives with her girlfriend and her parents. But Willow, dad and I all live in the same single floor house we’ve had for at least twelve years.

My family supports one another, but dad has always pushed us to be as independent as possible. He always calls the world a “dog eat dog” kinda place, and he’s right of course. But sometimes, his resolve to make us independent was a pain.

Like he did with my sisters when they went off to college, dad paid for only half of my tuition, and left the rest to me. He’d also end up taking care of my textbooks, but either way. I spent most summers writing countless essays for scholarship money, doing one-shot commissions, anything to get the cash.

But in the end, the most surefire way of getting money, was always getting a job. So I also spent time flooding open jobs with my resume. And that’s what eventually led to me being here, typing up something I don’t want to. Typing up something I’d rather just forget and consign to oblivion.

I got a call from one of the countless jobs I’d applied for, saying they were impressed by my many hours of community service and prior work in a TV station, and wanted to conduct an interview in person at their own station.

I, eager to start a job, and it being already two weeks into the summer, agreed. The interview would take place the following Tuesday, and after asking my dad, he smiled proudly at the news, but couldn’t drive me there due to work.

The tv station was nearly two hours away by train, but I was feeling exceptionally lazy before the day of the interview had even arrived. So I asked Willow, and ran into the same response. And then I asked Len, and she was free to take me. Or would have been, had her girlfriend not needed the car they shared to attend a funeral.

Running low on patience and people with working or available vehicles, I was starting to wonder if it was really worth the trouble of bothering anyone else about it. But just as I was about to resign myself to a crowded, uncomfortable two hour train ride, I got a text from a friend.

Steven, nice, funny, prankster, had a painfully obvious crush on me, licensed driver…

I debated in my head for a while on my own capacity for cruelty, before shaking my head. I wasn’t being cruel, nor had I ever been. I knew Steven had a crush on me, but I never led him on. I even mentioned a few times out loud how I really wasn’t ever getting into a relationship with anyone. Romantically, sexually, I’d never had any desire for any of that stuff and seriously doubted that I ever would. The only thing that sustained the guy’s crush at this point, was his own stubbornness. And that was not on me.

Plus, if he said no, that’d be the end of it. I wouldn’t try to tempt him or make any promises. I was asking him for a favor, that was it.

And in the end I didn’t even need to do that. After exchanging pleasantries and being asked “what’s going on?”, I told him of my plight and he immediately offered his help. I asked him if he was really sure about it, feeling slightly uncomfortable at his willingness.

He was sure.

He was always sure when it came to me, and frankly, I hated it.

I just hoped someday soon he’d realize how hopeless a relationship between us was, and he’d quit being such a yes-man for me. I felt like I’d done as much as possible, short of screaming “I’m aromantic and don’t like you like that!” in his face. And well, I may not have loved him like that, but he was a good friend. I trusted him, he was always there for me even before he liked me… I didn’t want to fuck that up.

It was only a few days before I was throwing my backpack into the backseat of Steven’s car. Inside the bag was only a few things, a change of clothes for when my interview was done, my tablet, phone charger, and an assortment of other such things.

Steven gave me a two fingered salute as I joined him in the front and strapped in, “Looking sharp Morgan!” He fished his phone out of his pocket and buckled it into the holder on the dash. “You already texted me the address right?”

I nodded with a smile, “Yep. How’s college treating you? Or should I say, how are you treating college?”

Steven opened the address on his phone and grinned, “Wonderfully, and wonderfully. How dare you suggest any different?”

“Because you’re full of shit,” I shot back with a chuckle as I watched him start up the car.

“I’m filled to the brim with sweetness and charm. I am delightful, all my professors say so,” he shifted out of neutral and pulled away from the curb.

I looked forward and nodded slowly, “Uh huh, name one. I’ll email them to make sure.”

“Aw, you will?”

“Drive Steven.”

We spent most of the drive talking over the radio music we weren’t really listening to, catching up on anything we hadn’t covered in our last text conversation. It was nice, something I truly missed about being back home. The serenity of the drive almost distracted me from Steven’s occasional long stares, almost.

Maybe there was no way to settle this infatuation he had for me, peacefully at this point. Not to say that Steven was a violent guy! No way, he’d always been a pacifist, it wasn’t in his nature to hurt people. One time he broke down bawling all because he’d tripped and accidentally headbutted a guy in high school.

But sometimes I had to wonder if anyone else had been in my exact position, and gotten out of it with their friendship intact. Maybe the friendship falling apart was just something that happened when there were unreciprocated feelings. I hoped not.

Anyways, at this point, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I got to my interview on time, got out on time, and then I changed out of my formal clothes in a McDonald’s. Steven and I ate, and by the time we were back in the car, it was near 6pm.

I was tired, but not dead tired. And somehow, I think Steven knew it, because he suggested we go to an arcade for an hour or two. As a “reward for always working so hard”, as he put it. It took a bit of nagging, but he eventually convinced me.

I wasn’t tired enough to refuse gaming, but I was tired in a different way. The stress of finding my own tuition money and job alone was starting to wear me down, as Steven so tactfully implied in our game of skeeball. As he dubbed me “cash zombie” after my tenth loss, searching the land for money to devour.

Props to him, it fit how I felt to a T. However, the new nickname inspired me to challenge him to pool. Which I promptly kicked his ass in.

I was having fun until he walked up to me and asked me to show him how to hold the pool stick, with a smirk I gladly showed him. It wasn’t until I glanced up that I realized it wasn’t my technique he was observing.

I stood and then said I wanted to go home. He seemed taken aback but didn’t protest. With the tickets won from all the skeeball, he bought himself a little grumpy dog charm, and bought me a light up pen.

I accepted it with a smile, trying to shake off the deep discomfort that rested heavily in my chest. I was starting to remember why I ended up not going to my first choice college.

We hit the road at 8pm. Steven and I talked for a bit before he realized my eyes were drooping. With a soft laugh, he said I could go to sleep if I wanted to.

I gladly did…

And then woke up only minutes later, for some reason I still don’t understand. But I woke up, and it was dark out. The radio in the car played softly, I watched absently as the dark road was illuminated by Steven’s headlights and nothing else.

I looked over to Steven, his eyes were on the road, a small smile on his face as he hummed to the music. God I never understood how he could smile so much.

He glanced at me, “Couldn’t sleep? Sorry, the radio’s probably too loud.” Without waiting for me to say anything he reached for the volume and turned it lower. It was nearly inaudible now, I sighed.

“The music was fine Steven. Dunno why I woke up really…” I trailed off as I looked out into the near black of night.

“Bad dream maybe?”

“Those usually don’t wake you up a few minutes into sleeping right?”

“I dunno. All I know is that when you’re asleep, your brain doesn’t give a shit if you’ve been asleep for 12 hours or 1, it can still make you have a dream that feels like an entire day has gone by.”

“Yeah those are weird ones,” I muttered to myself, “Well, doesn’t matter. Even if I did have a nightmare I don’t remember it. I was asleep and then I wasn’t.”

We lapsed into silence. I listened to the calm breaths of my friend, the radio’s quiet voices, I watched small reflectors pass us by, making sure the car kept on the road in the darkness.

Steven sighed, “Don’t even know what song they’re playing anymore, mind if I turn the radio back up?”

“I already said the radio was fine as it was,” I muttered in response, unable to keep a little annoyance from slipping into my voice.

With a soft laugh Steven reached for the volume and turned the knob. A voice could now clearly be heard. “There we…” Steven started but then trailed off as the voice continued speaking.

I looked over to the radio and blinked as I listened to what was coming out from it. “You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute. You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute,” I recognized the voice as the woman that usually did commercial breaks and announced what song was up next. I listened to the station often, so I knew it was definitely her.

Steven and I exchanged a few unsure glances, and I felt a confused smile pull at my face, I saw the same almost appear on Steven’s face as well. But then she said it again. “You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute. You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute. You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute. You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute.”

She continued the monotonous chant in a hollow voice, and the longer Steven and I just sat there listening, the more tightly my chest clenched in discomfort. I opened my mouth and swallowed to try and get rid of the dry feeling that had settled in my throat, “Wh…why isn’t her crew stopping her…”

Steven let out a soft laugh that sounded forced in every way, his voice was tinged in fear, “Maybe it’s uh…a prank? Hell of a good one I’d say!”

Meanwhile the chant had begun to make me antsy, I glanced around us, we were alone on the road and there were still no streetlights in sight. “You’re deaf. You’re blind. You’re mute,” what the hell did it mean?

I looked back at the radio to see Steven reaching out to hit something, maybe the change station button, the power button, but his hand just hovered in midair shaking ever so slightly, like he was scared to interrupt the incessant chant.

I quickly raised a hand to grab his wrist, “H-hold up.” There was something off about the woman’s voice. I placed my fingers on the volume, and looked at Steven. He was trying to keep his eyes on the road, but his eyes kept going from me to the radio. I frowned and took both of my hands away, “Stop the car.”

Steven gave me a look that was somehow both relieved and wary, but slowed us to a halt and put the emergency lights on. I nodded to him, “Thanks. I…I just want to check something.” Steeling myself, I reached for the volume again, and turned it up ever so slightly.

After a moment of not hearing any change, I turned it up again, more this time. The car was now filled with the woman’s chanting, making it louder hadn’t helped my nerves, but it did help me pick out one more disturbing aspect.

“Is…is that her crew?” I looked to see if Steven heard it too. There was an overlap, like they were all around the microphone chanting, but one or more of them couldn’t say it at the exact same pacing. Judging by Steven’s expression, he heard exactly what I had. His face was pale, his hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap.

He gave me a nervous smile, “Uh, h-hey Morgan, c-c-can we switch stations now? This prank has uh, outlived itself.”

I felt my head move to nod numbly before I could really think about it. As opposed to before, Steven’s hand jumped to hit the change station button.

Music.

There was normal, calming music. Well, as calming as country could be, but opposed to the chanting? It was a nice change of atmosphere. The relief in the car was palpable, Steven sighed and I sunk into my seat. I laughed a bit, “Holy shit!”

Steven chuckled nervously, obviously not understanding why I was so tickled. And to be honest, I wasn’t. It felt more like a reflex to counter how unnerving the situation had been. “Yeah they uh, they got us good. Weird though, it’s the beginning of summer, not Halloween, not April Fools. Why would they…”, Steven started before shaking his head with a huff.

He was rattled, and I understood, I was too. It had only been two minutes or so, but being out on country roads in near complete dark, and hearing a whole radio station chanting for seemingly no reason, was just downright creepy.

Steven took a deep breath before smiling over at me, “Well that does give me a hell of an idea for a party prank, so I’ll consider this a learning experience!” He put his hands back on the wheel and turned his emergency lights off.

The music cut out to static, I looked at the radio in confusion. And went cold when a different chorus of voices began to chant. “Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth.”

I just stared as the words continued to resound through the car, and in an attempt to make sense of the situation, I went for my phone.

“Wh-what are you doing calling the cops?” Steven asked me in a voice tinged with fear.

I wasn’t, “I’m finding out if there’s a blog post or something about this, maybe it’s a secret event or something. Like, you scan across all the stations working together to uh, y’know figure out a secret message first and get a free cruise or some shit. I don’t know! Something!” I was grasping at straws but it was all I had.

Steven just nodded and seemed to jump onboard with my theory, “I-I’ll check the other stations.” He hit the next station button while my browser took forever to load up Google.

It was only silent for a moment before the car was filled with voices again, different voices, but the same chant as before. “Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth. Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth. Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth.”

There hadn’t even been any music. Steven hit the next button, no change and my browser still hadn’t loaded up. Same chant, different voices.

“Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth. Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth. Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth.”

He hit next again, and my browser quit loading giving me the timeout page. As the exact same chant surfaced from the silence again, I let out a shuddering breath and hit the reload button and silently begged for it to work.

Even if this was some sort of elaborate, fucked up prank, there’d be no way that so many stations would be saying the same message.

“Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth.”

Steven with a frustrated growl hit the steering wheel, “This is so fucked up! What the hell are they thinking! It-i-it…! It’s not even funny anymore, it stopped being funny like six stations ago!”

I took a deep breath and looked to Steven as the voices kept on, his eyes were wide, fixed to the radio as the voices kept on and on. His breathing was quick and shallow, he was panicking. I understood, I felt the same way. In fact the only thing keeping me from joining him in his panic, was how worried I was for him.

He was the one behind the wheel, he couldn’t be shaken like this, it was a bad idea to let him spiral.

“Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth. Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth.”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! FUCKING STOP!” Steven shouted at the radio. I knew I needed to intervene, this was driving us both mad, but someone had to take control of the situation. I threw my unresponsive phone down.

Taking one of Steven’s hands brought his attention away from the radio and to me, his eyes were tearing up and he was breathing far too erratically, I could see his chest spasming. It hurt to see him like this even though I could feel tears just behind my eyes as well.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and hopefully calm him as well, “Steven, watch me. Do what I do.” I took a deep breath for five seconds, held it for seven seconds, released it for ten, and repeated. It took Steven a bit to catch on, his eyes kept darting to the radio and the speakers around him, but I kept reminding him to keep his eyes on me, and block out the radio.

I could have turned it off, but that would have distracted Steven and just sent him further into his panic. A part of me just thought if we learned to push it out of our minds when we could hear it, we’d be better off than just sitting in silence.

It was hard with the chanting, but having a reason to appear calm made it easier to pretend like it was easy. Steven seemed to buy that the chanting didn’t bother me anymore, and was able to breathe with me and stop his tears. After a while, I didn’t need to hold Steven’s hand anymore, he didn’t need to watch my breathing. He numbly turned in his seat, and sunk back into it.

I sighed in relief, I was still freaked out by all of the shit happening on the radio, but I felt better since we had managed calmed down.

“Hear the words, perceive their worth, speak their truth,” the chant kept going. You’d think the people’s voices would get tired after going for so long, didn’t sound like it.

I sighed, “I’m turning this shit off.”

Steven mumbled in response still focusing on staying calm, “Be my fucking guest.”

I hit the power button without hesitation.

And there was silence.

After the silence continued for a while, I ran my hands over my face. I didn’t even notice I’d been left sweating from all that.

I looked over at Steven, “A…are you alright? Stupid question, I know but…”

He just shook his head tiredly, closing his eyes and covering his face. “That was…so uncool…so fucked. Like…” he put his hands down into his lap, “That was without a doubt, the most fucked up thing I have ever gone through Morgan.”

I nodded in agreement, “Ditto.”

I didn’t even know what to do, and I doubted Steven did either. He needed to focus on calming down, though his breathing had slowed to a normal pace, he was too shaken to drive and I didn’t know how to drive. And despite everything that had just happened, the silence was hardly comforting.

There were no crickets, cicadas, there wasn’t anything besides the low humming of the car and our own breathing. It was a quiet that was suffocating.

Desperate to fill the silence and figure out what to do next I started searching for my phone that I’d thrown earlier. “I’ll uh, see if I can get a signal. Maybe someone can tow us to a gas station or something… Just to…be near people y’know? Maybe someone else there will be as freaked out as us,” I suggested with a pathetic attempt at a laugh.

Steven gave a weak smile that disappeared as soon as it had appeared, and nodded without a word.

After some blind searching I bent down to reach under my seat, and grabbed my phone.

“Are you afraid?”

I came up from my hunched over position to look at Steven, “Uh, well I…” I stopped as I took in his expression.

Steven looked horrified and his shaking had come back full force, his wide eyes were glued on the radio. What had happened?

“Steven, did you hear something? What’s wrong?” I asked reaching for his shoulder.

“You’re afraid.”

My heart seized in my chest and began beating far too loudly in my ears as my body broke into a cold sweat.

There was a voice coming from the radio.

I turned my head over slowly, and saw the display that usually showed the station number, just said “Hi”. I had…I had turned it off, and yet…

“Steven and Morgan, how are you doing this evening?”

“No no nono no!” Steven whimpered before I could even register what had just been said, “How? How the fuck! Who the fuck are you!” Tears were coming to his eyes again as he clung at the back of his head.

The voice on the radio was new, different from all the stations we’d changed through, and in fact sounded much too young to be someone that worked anywhere, let alone a radio station. A little girl, was speaking through the radio, and she somehow knew our goddamn names.

I shook my head dismissing every other thought besides finding out the answers to the questions that had been gnawing away at me, “I…I turned this fucking thing off! How are you…? How are you even speaking through this!” I checked the status of the power button just to be sure, the radio was definitely off.

There was silence before a strange sound broke through the speakers of the car, it took me a bit to realize the girl was giggling. “Please, a stranger talking to you through a powered-off car radio? Not the strangest thing that’s happened to you tonight. All that chanting, scary stuff.”

“This is scary stuff too you little shit!” Steven burst out. I placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It was already prevalent in my mind, but I somehow already knew that all of this couldn’t be the work of any little girl. Her voice was too calm, and carried much intelligence with it. I just didn’t like the idea of insulting her recklessly.

“Why are you doing this? Who are you? And…and how are you connecting to our radio?” I tried keeping my voice level but I could feel myself trembling.

“I need a mouthpiece. Angel. And this is the only way I can speak to you. Let’s leave it at that.”

I shook my head, not because I wasn’t retaining what she was trying to say, but because everything she said sounded like the ramblings of a psychopath. “A-uhm…a mouthpiece? You mean us?”

“Yes.”

“If radios are the only thing you can…talk through, just use that! Why do you need to-to fucking terrify a couple of college kids and make them think they’re going crazy, when you can just use fucking radios?!” I argued my voice cracking in stress and anger.

“It was fun.”

I stared at the display still displaying the word “Hi” and blinked hard in disbelief, “Fun? Us being scared out of our wits was fun for you?”

“Immensely. I admire your ability to take control of difficult situations Morgan, not many have your tact.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Steven spat out, “A-and you can only speak through radios? Then wh-what the fuck was that with the radio hosts, a-and their crew! You controlled them! Made them say shit!”

I looked over to him, he was panicking less, but getting more angry. He had someone to actually answer his questions, maybe that gave him some semblance of comfort.

There was silence for a moment, and then the girl spoke again. “I did no such thing,” but the voice that came from the radio had changed. Altered and distorted. “I just listened to them, and copied,” Steven’s voice clearly resounded through the car radio.

Steven’s panic was back, and I was starting to feel the urge to get out of the car and run. She continued on, Steven’s voice shifting and distorting back to the thing’s original voice.

“I speak through radios, and just like a radio’s frequency, I can be altered. But my power only stretches so far. I have no ability to touch…computers. More specifically, I cannot touch the internet how you two can. That is why I need a mouthpiece.”

I shook my head, this was crazy, “And…and if we say no?”

“I will embrace you,” the sound of the doors around us locking was startling and final.

Steven and I glanced at each other before checking our doors and trying to unlock them with no success. It was like the locks were bolted in place. Steven unbuckled his seatbelt to slide into the backseat and try the back doors while I too, unbuckled and instead, started kicking at the window on the driver’s side of the car.

“Now now, before you two try getting out. Maybe you should check to see where you’re safer?”

That gave me pause and I almost ignored the voice before remembering, if this girl, thing wasn’t lying, it wanted us alive to be its mouthpiece. So maybe, it’d be best to take a look around the car.

I didn’t need to look very far or very hard, to find what made the voice say what it did. “Steven…Steven stop!” I yelled back at him as he had also started kicking the windows. And when he leaned forward to see what was there, I pointed down the road.

Right over the dip in the road ahead, stood something. The headlights of the car just barely reached its legs but illuminated just enough of the thing to make me feel all at once, much safer in the car.

Glinting in the headlights, thin metal legs, seemingly made out of wire stood supporting the body of a humanoid monster. A white dress, tattered and worn covered the thing’s torso, and perhaps its arms too, but it was impossible to tell. The arms made out of the same material as the legs, hung by its sides, and the long hands reached near the ground. Upon closer inspection, what I thought at first to be wire, may have actually been…needles. The thing’s body was made out of fucking needles, I could see it clearly. They connected impossibly to one another, twisting around each other to form the thing’s limbs. Two red, perfectly circular lights seemingly floated in the darkness above its body, they glowed dimly.

A girl, made of needles, watched us like cowering animals in a trap.

I brought my legs up to my mouth and tried not to cry, just hoping it would stay where it was and not come any closer. “I…i-is that…you?”

“Yes. Would you like me to embrace you?” the voice wasn’t teasing or threatening. It asked like it was expecting us to say yes, then I thought if this was only the hundredth time this thing had attacked someone like this. If someone in our position had been so scared they just wanted it over with, and actually said yes.

I shook my head, “N-no…no! I-I just-!” A sob ripped its way out of my throat, “Pl-please let us go!” I blinked and heard myself scream as I saw that the monster on the road was closer than before, like in the short second my eyes weren’t on it, it had teleported a few feet forwards.

Whimpering I backed up to try and sit in the backseat, Steven put his hand on my shoulder to help me. Once I was huddled in the back with him, I tried not to cry lest I need to blink, allowing this demon on the road ahead of us to come any closer.

“Pl-please, A-Angel right? You want us to be mouthpieces for you right? We can do that! Th-there’s no need for this!” Steven shouted into the tense air of the car.

I watched as the thing on the road, tilted its head in a jittering clockwork-like movement, and teleported closer. I screamed and backed into Steven more, he held my hand and I could feel him shaking. There wasn’t any trick to keep it from coming closer, even if we somehow escaped the car in time, it would just hunt us down.

Now the monster was completely bathing in the headlights of the car, I could see its face. Pitch black and completely featureless, completely contour-less, flat with the red lights just embedded into what must have passed as the thing’s skin. And what framed the face, was pure white hair. Chopped short in the back, and two long lengths of hair that hung down on both sides, it even had bangs, not that they covered its “eyes” in any way.

“I need a mouthpiece,” the thing’s voice chimed like a reminder through the car.

“A” she had said, “a mouthpiece”. I looked to Steven, my fear was gone, but it was replaced with horror.

“It…it only wants one of us,” I felt myself talking and Steven looked at me in confusion. His face turned shocked and horrified.

“She…she can’t mean…” he muttered before looking back to the monster standing in the road. The monster trying to make us throw one another to the wolf that it was.

It was only twenty feet away now, every time Angel would need to remind us of what it wanted, five feet between us and it would disappear as it came closer.

Steven looked at me, “You have to do it. Morgan please, you…you just have to!”

I just shook my head, this was bullshit, I knew I was being childish, thinking there was any way we’d both be getting out of this alive. But there was no way I could do that to Steven!

He gave a frustrated sigh and took me by the shoulders, “Morgan listen to me, I could never live with myself if you died here and–”

“You think I could?” I screamed, “You’re my best friend you idiot!”

With a quick glance, we both noted that the monster was barely ten feet away from us, its long needle fingers twitching erratically as it stood.

“I need a mouthpiece.”

At that moment, I couldn’t take it anymore, Steven was willing to die for me, but I wasn’t willing to let him.

“Steven will be your mouthpiece! He’ll do it! I-I’m a dunce when it comes to the internet! E-embrace me!”

A window shattered, and all at once, I regretted everything I’d just said. Even if I hadn’t said a word, it would have likely turned out the same way.

Steven, in a desperate attempt to throw off my self sacrifice, turned and with two kicks, finished kicking out the window. It shattered, and he dragged himself out. I grabbed at his hand to stop him, but he just pulled away.

It was the last I saw of him, his back running out into the darkness, and being impaled through his stomach by Angel as it appeared in front of him. The five long needle fingers poked through him like tissue paper, and closed before pulling back, ripping out everything in its grasp. I heard a choked and pained scream, only I’m not sure which one of us it came from.

Steven’s body fell, I screamed in despair. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. My eyes were glued to his twitching form on the ground before Angel stepped on top of it, her needle feet making more gashes on his back and head. My gaze traveled upwards to meet its eyes, round red solid orbs that pierced my soul and made me fall silent.

A crackling noise resonated through the car, “Looks like you win…lose? Either way, you’re alive. He was quite the brave fool.” The red orbs slimmed at an angle, as if it was smiling. “This will be a wonderful story.”

I shuddered and blinked away my tears, and Angel was gone.

The cold night air blew on my face, drying my tears as more fell, Steven’s body no longer twitched, dark blood leaked out from under him, staining his yellow shirt. I could see him, all of him with his insides strewn around his torso. My vision swam.

I felt my body move like lead towards the open window, towards Steven, but my arms didn’t carry me very far. They gave out and I felt the wind get knocked out of me as my torso hit the seat, I wasn’t breathing evenly, I was still sobbing and scared. It felt like something vaguely reminiscent of two hands were pressing down on me, forcing what air I had inside, out.

All I could see before I passed out was the back of the driver’s seat in front of me becoming blurry and dark.

The next days became a blur of high emotions and questions, none of which I knew how to deal with. I was sat in a hospital bed for three days, not to take care of my physical injuries, which were no worse than a few scrapes from broken glass, but to assess my mental state.

Everyone was convinced I had emotional trauma and truly couldn’t remember what had happened on the road that night, apparently I never could get past the arcade without suddenly being unable to speak. I’d start crying as I just stared off into space until someone snapped me out of it, which would throw me into an all too unpleasant panic attack. People learned to stop trying that, and would instead wait for me to eventually notice they were still there.

It was the strangest thing though, I always remembered telling them everything. I guess I wanted to tell them, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, and it was on the very day I was about to be released from the hospital, that I figured out why.

The police had once again tried to get what they could out of me without upsetting me. My dad had finally had enough, nearly chasing them from my room calling them vultures and the like. In my mind, I had been in the middle of telling my story as best I could. I was recalling the very moment I had seen Angel, its red solid orbs of light that stared into Steven and I, its needle-like limbs capable of piercing flesh and bone, the pitch black skin of its face and pure white of its hair. As I watched the police get rushed out, it became apparent that I had stopped speaking quite a while ago.

I blinked away the tears that I hadn’t noticed welling in my eyes and gave a frustrated and pitiful groan. When the door to my hospital door opened, I turned to ask whoever had entered for some water.

Then I stopped.

I found myself looking at a little girl dressed in black, she had to be no older than twelve. She stared at me with a blank gaze that made me feel like shifting to sit up so I could place more space between us. I forced a polite smile on my face, “Hey. What are you doing here sweetheart?”

The girl blinked a few times and looked around the room curiously, I figured her parents must’ve given her some freedom with her hair, considering the long blades of black hair framing her face didn’t match the cropped hair nearer to the back of her head. It looked nice on her.

But still, something about her made my skin crawl. I forced the feeling down, “My name is Morgan, what’s your name?”

The girl began making her way over to the foot of my bed which gave me a better look at her appearance. She reminded me of some international students that had gone to my high school once, she was definitely Asian, but I wouldn’t try and place any specific nationality on her. Though unlike any of the classmates I’d had, her eyes that just peered from behind her bangs were a startling sky blue. She mumbled something indecipherable, her voice was soft and low so I had to strain my ears to hear her.

I shook my head a bit, “Sorry sweetie, I didn’t hear you.”

“Angel.”

It took a moment, only one moment for my mind to register three things.

The fact that a familiar voice was speaking, and not from the girl’s mouth, no. Her mouth hadn’t even moved to speak.

The familiar and foreboding voice had come from behind me, out of the bedside phone speaker.

The girl had just called herself Angel.

This girl, wasn’t actually a girl, it was the fucking demon from the road. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was stare at the human-shaped demon in front of me and fight off the rising bile. Flashes of Steven’s intestines strewn about outside of his body ran through my mind as those sky blue eyes pierced my very mind. I swallowed, hoping to make my throat feel less like sandpaper to no avail.

“What do you want?” I found myself asking, half hoping that it was there to kill me.

The demon moved just a step closer and laid a hand over one of my covered legs, I flinched violently but it didn’t seem to care. Crackling came from the bedside phone once again, “You’ll get to work soon.”

I felt my eyes well with tears and weakly shook my head, “Just end this…please.”

It tilted its head, a confused expression forming on its face. “Embrace you?”

I hesitated before my body moved of its own accord and gave a tired nod, I just wanted this to be over. “Please,” I whispered looking for any sign of mercy in the unsettling sky blue eyes across from me.

The confusion melted and was replaced with something dark, “I will embrace them.” Its body nodded towards a picture frame by my bed, with me and my family smiling on a beach. I felt my stomach knot in fear.

“No. No, no don’t!” I shouted reaching for its hand.

My father burst into the room with concern etched on his face, “Morgan?”

I just stared at him, wide eyed and crying before looking to the foot of my bed. Angel was gone. There was no evidence of the demon ever having set foot in the room, yet where its hand had grabbed my leg felt uncomfortably warm like the weight was still there.

I breathed in shakily before looking to my father, knowing what needed to be done. I gave a weak smile, “I had a nightmare. I’ll feel better when I get home, and get to work.”

The warmth on my leg faded, and with that warmth, something else was taken.

I knew then, that Angel and I, had come to an understanding. My father was confused and assured me that it would be fine if I took time to relax and take care of myself, I just sat there, unresponsive.

I haven’t seen Angel since, and I know that’s a good thing. My family is still worried about me, and I’m sure they’re going to keep worrying. After all I haven’t spoken a word since the hospital room, and not because I don’t want to. They try to speak to me and all I can do is stare at them. I’m sure they think it’s trauma, again. Perhaps it would be best if they continue to believe that.

But I understand now. Angel is like a parasite, yet it needed my permission to use me, invade my mind, tell me what to write. Its hold on me is strong, heavy and overbearing, keeping me rooted here, keeping me isolated, keeping me mute with no other way to talk besides using the words you’re reading now. That’s why it robbed me of my ability to talk about Steven until now, and then even my voice.

I can hear it sometimes when I cry into my pillow at night, “A trapped mind will simply prance when given freedom.” It’s like letting it use me, let it into my head too.

Just be aware, this is not a survival guide, a warning, anything of the sort. If you meet Angel, you’re either dead, or you’re like me. That’s what it wants. More people hearing its voice, more people writing about it. I can’t escape, I won’t ever be able to as long as I love my family. And now that you’ve read my story, Angel has reached out. My words, acting as its fucking conduits to reach you on the other side of the screen. Hopefully you didn’t think about it too hard, hopefully my story didn’t strike a chord with you, hopefully you kept your mind walled off and distant. But this is out of my hands now, I just have to keep on living, waiting for it to tell me what story I’ll write next.

A thought just occurred to me.

I might be writing with you soon. Hope not.

- Morgan

#creepy pasta #creepypasta #creepy #writing #story #not ts #gore #tw gore #theo writes

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years ago

Text

From the Ashes (2/???)

Summary: In a modern version of Hyrule, a young man finds himself in a world filled with nothing but white walls, studying faces, and tests after tests. Something is different about him, and the world seems very interested is seeing what makes him tick. (A modern, BOTW/LOZ “Labrat” AU)

Chapter 1, Chapter 3 (to be released for all Partron's today, July 11th for Tumblr)

Warnings: Death, torture, blood, description on injury, experimentation, dark themes, emotional abuse, abuse.

Make sure you read the warnings, be safe.

-o-o-o-o-

Today there's autopsy, he died during it, but there's still an autopsy. They give him the numbing agent like always before they secure him down, but there's nothing that can stop the pain of a scalpel cutting down your chest, nothing like the skin being torn apart in different directions, nothing like ribs being pried apart so they can get a better look at your still beating heart.

They're careful at first, making sure he lives long enough for them to get their samples of tissues and muscles and fluid until they do what they always do instead of stitching him back together; they kill him. It's effective. Whatever brings him back to life whenever he dies heals everything and leaves nothing but a scar on his skin. He wakes up moments later completely healed and ready for whatever they want to do to him next.

It seems today they also want to test his endurance, because right as he wakes up from his autopsy, the mask that always kills him is strapped on and soon death takes him again.

The black lasts longer this time, the warmth comes a little later and just a bit duller, but he wakes up again, fine, breathing, good. Then the mask kills him again, it takes longer, again, it's colder. He wakes up. He dies. Again.

Longer. Colder. Alive. Dead. Again. Again.

Six times he dies until the machines scream at them to stop when he can't. He's dizzy, the phantom pains of knives literally in his chest burn and his lungs are begging for fresh air. He can't feel his body as they undo the straps and place him in a wheelchair for transport. Soon, he's wheeled into his home, the only place he can call his, and left there to blankly stare at the white walls until he can find the strength to move.

It takes a few hours, but he finally manages to wobbly stand up from the wheelchair. It's a practice he's mastered, this is nothing new. He doesn't bother to look back at the observation room connected to his with a panel of glass. He knows that the main scientist is there, observing him while he nibbles on the end of his pen. He's the same man who killed him for the first time in his one and only true memory. He hasn't seen that nice woman since, he wonders where she is.

Anyway, he ignores the observation room. They usually go away and turn on the cameras once he's collapsed in his small, threadbare bed. There's not much to observe when all he has energy to do is clutch at his thin pillow and breathe until sleep takes him. Why waste time watching him sleep when they could be preparing for the next experiment, the next sample, the next death.

The moment he collapses into his bed, on top of his blanket and pillow not even properly placed under his head, the bright lights in his cell turn off and multiple blinking green dots appear in the dark corners of his cell near the ceiling. His eyes unwillingly slip closed, he wishes he could keep them open, yet he knows fighting sleep is useless.

At least, when he's asleep, he has a name and family. When he's awake, he's got terror. When he's dead, he's got nothing.

Though, nothing is starting to sound very nice, and if only it would last forever.

-o-o-o-o-

There are sometimes days where they do nothing to him. He cherishes those days. He has time to do whatever he wants (within limited restrictions and boundaries of course) just as long as he does their mandatory workouts and therapy sessions.

The workouts are easy. He's brought to a large gym where there are treadmills and tracks and weights; there's an instructor and two guards and he does what he's told for about an hour to two depending on what the instructor determines what his body needs. The foods they feed him are filled with vitamins and minerals, so it's not like he's bone skinny, but he's not muscular either. Despite the things they do to him, they want his body to be healthy, that way results are not tainted by starvation, exhaustion, and a poor immune system.

He likes climbing. Out of everything they have him do during workouts, it's climbing nets and walls that he loves most. Running is fine, stretching and yoga is sort of okay, lifting weights is boring and he doesn't like that, they had him try swimming a couple times but both times he almost drowned so they got rid of that, but climbing is something he would willingly do.

There's something freeing about lifting himself higher and higher with nothing but his own strength. He likes to pretend he's climbing a mountain, a very tall mountain. One where if he ever reaches the top, he will be free from labs and experiments, he will be able to swing his arms out and lift his face to the stars and never have to go back.

The worst part about climbing is having to come back down.

Today he ran, he didn't get to climb, but there's always a next time.

Therapy sessions are a bit harder because it's a full two hours where he's expected to communicate, and he doesn't very much like the therapist. He can't speak, no matter how hard he tries to make sounds or how long they grill him in basic vocal practices it just doesn't happen. He somehow knows a bit of sign, but just the simple ones, limited to mostly letters. Most of the therapy sessions involve him trying to spell out how he's feeling with his hands and the therapist getting impatient with how long it takes for him to sign S-C-A-R-E-D or H-A-P-P-Y or H-U-R-T when he theoretically could just say the words and move on. He gets yelled at a lot, which he doesn't think getting yelled at is a part of therapy but he has to remind himself that he doesn't know what therapy is outside of the labs, so for all he knows getting yelled at for things he can't control is what therapy is all about.

Thankfully, today the therapist looks happy. When they're happy, they talk a lot about themselves instead of him. Apparently their brother got married and they got to go back home to the Zora's Domain to visit. He only knows a couple Zora, the therapist being one of them, the others being various scientists and nurses. There's a Goron on the security team, but the rest are all Hylian. He hears stories of the Gerudo sometimes, but he's never seen one. They sound beautiful, especially since none of them come here to the labs to hurt him.

After a whole long story about how the therapist got to go cliff driving with their siblings (oh cliff driving sounds wondrous even though he can't swim well) the therapist sighs and clicks a pen against the clipboard in their hands.

"Okay," they grumble, "let's get this over with. How are you feeling today?"

It's a question that should be genuine, but the therapist says it like they'd rather be sleeping.

Today, he doesn't hurt, today's a free day. He got to work out, but he didn't get to climb. He came to therapy and hasn't been yelled at yet. He's okay. A little tired from working out, a little hungry, but he's okay.

O-K. T-I-R-E-D. W-O-R-K-O-U-T

"Yesterday Doctor Marras tested your endurance, how did that go?"

He lifts his hand up to his chest, his fist shaped in the sign for "A". He moves his fist down like a scalpel would. His sign for "Autopsy".

D-I-E.

He makes the shape for "D" now and puts it over his nose, the sign for the mask used to kill him.

Six. No / R-I-S-K / seven.

"How did you feel?"

He brings his hands out in front and touches the fingertips of his pointer fingers a couple times. Hurt. He then opens his palms across his chest and drags them outward while slowly closing his fists. Afraid.

The therapist sighs and he puts his hands down to his lap. This conversation sounds old, feels repetitive.

It doesn't matter. He knows it's just a way to make sure he's still capable of thinking and living. Losing his mind would be almost as bad as letting his body wither away. Almost. They'd rather his body is peak physical condition than his brain fully functional, which is probably why his work out trainor is actually very good while his therapist doesn't help that much at all.

Whatever the case, he's asked a couple more required questions and he's not yelled at at all before he's escorted back to his cell where a small number of activities await him. By his cot is a small pile of books, a sketch pad, and some pencils. On the small plastic table next to the bed is a black tablet with apps for learning basic math and science are downloaded on, along with an app used to help him learn more words in sign. There's a paper cup of water placed next to it, right beside a protein bar which is certainly a rare sight. He's usually fed the same gray, tasteless goop every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If he's given actual substance, he must have done something good. Or they're all just in a good mood.

Not one to pass up the opportunity of actual food, he grabs the bar and gently tears it out of it's wrapping. He sighs in content as the flavor hits his tongue, it's bitter, but he can still taste chocolate. Content, he plops down on his cot and opens the sketch book. He flips through the pages he's already sketched on and lands on a blank page. Tapping the pencil against the paper in thought, he glances up quickly at the observation room. Today the glass has been changed into a mirror, which sends a wave of uneasiness through him. Whatever is going on behind that mirror, they don't want him to see today.

He sucks in a breath and turns back down to his sketchbook.

#jin writes #fan fiction #legend of zelda #botw #loz botw #breath of the wild #link #au

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

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Aten Pt. 3

How much longer will this fic be? Idk, but I’m having fun, so here we go again!

Went ahead and just uh...sort of created my own canon re: the tablet. Look, if the movie writers could do whatever they wanted with it, so can I lol. No rules, no right, just me doing whatever I want with canon.

We get nsfw at the end because I couldn’t help myself lol. Definitely gonna be a part four and maybe more?? Because I’m not done with these two yet.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

He was bored. Horribly bored. It was silly, he knew that. After all, they’d only had two dates. To be so attached this much already was ridiculous, foolhardy.

Yet he lay on the couch in the employee lounge, doing nothing except feeling lonely and trying to get his sandals off his feet, using only his feet to kick and tug at them.

Larry walked in, and sighed. “Important business, huh? You ever lose your hands, you’ll be set.”

They shared a brief look, and Ahk broke.

“I miss him,” he grumbled. “And it isn’t his fault; he needs to keep up his studies, and I’m being childish and silly and stupid and-”

“And you still miss him despite all that, and that’s okay,” Larry interrupted, lifting Ahk’s legs so he could sit on the end of the couch, letting Ahk’s legs sit on his lap. “It isn’t a bad thing. Just means you really like each other, and that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is,” Ahk replied. “But this is...fast. Too fast? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had anything like this. Flings, sure, but nothing concrete. Nothing where we both wanted...”

“More?”

He nodded, and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You aren’t going to mess anything up,” Larry soothed. “You two have barely gotten started, so don’t go worrying about an end that you might not even have.”

“I suppose you’d know,” Ahk said. “I mean, you’ve been in a...well.”

“You mean my divorce? Yeah, that’s a sort of ending for a relationship. But a whole different level than where you two are. Don’t worry so much; you and...what have you been calling him? He told me, but I won’t want to get it wrong.”

“Aten,” Ahk replied. “Because he warms me like the sun used to.”

Larry smiled. “You really are falling hard, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Ahk admitted softly, blushing as he pondered what Aten was up to with the group project. Was he tired, frustrated, stressed? “I’d rather learn to fly beside him though, instead of falling until I hit bottom, you know?”

Larry nodded. “I get it. And I think you two will be just fine. Physically, at least, we know for sure you’re good together. I mean, I presume, from accidentally walking in, and-”

“I’m so sorry about that,” Ahk said, blushing even more. “We really will start locking the door, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Larry laughed. “No harm done. And if you needed anyone else to have uh...proof that you two are getting along, well, I saw it. You have anything planned for tomorrow night with him? On the couch or off of it, I mean.”

“Stop!” Ahk found himself giggling. Giggling! When had his afterlife ever held so much joy? It was wonderful. “A movie, maybe. I do want to get to know him, not just his body. I figure that might be an okay time to sit and relax, talk some.”

“I can try and get you some movies,” Larry said. “Unless you both really want to watch the movie on whales playing in the theater here. But he likes classic older movies, I know that much, so if you want me to...”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not. I’ll find some DVDs for you, make sure the player in here is up to snuff. Not sure it’s ever been used, if I’m honest,” Larry replied. “We’ll get it all set up, and you two can have a movie night for the next few nights. Sound good?”

Ahk nodded. “Thank you, Larry. For all of this.”

“Not a problem. I like helping you two out; you’re good, sweet kids.”

“We’re both adults,” Ahk laughed. “We do act a bit like love-sick teenagers though, I suppose.”

“If anyone has a right to moments like that, it’s you,” Larry said. “You deserve a chance to just relax, have fun with someone. I know you don’t really ever stop being royalty, but...some time off, maybe. Or time where you don’t have to think about it, or act like it. He knows and likes you for you, not the pharaoh he read about on your informational plaque.”

He lifted Ahk’s legs and stood, setting them gently back on the couch. “I’ve got some other chores to look after, but I’ll try and check back in on you, okay? You good alone in here? Not gonna pine too much?”

“No promises,” Ahk snickered, but inside his heart was heavy. How quickly he’d gotten used to Aten’s attention and presence, to something that was too new to be love, but tasted sweetly of it, and that he couldn’t get enough of.

He was glad he hadn’t promised as the night progressed. He languished alone in the lounge, trying to think of anything other than Aten, his voice, his smile, his hands, his lips.

Finally, he broke down and retrieved the pen and paper from his things in Larry’s locker. He hadn’t written love poetry as others his age had for their lovers, though he’d thought about it once or twice. He couldn’t match the beauty of the tablets displayed in the hall near his exhibit, bearing love poetry that took one’s breath away.

But he had to try, or his heart would burst. And hopefully, Aten would be as kind and receptive to it as Ahk expected.

He hid the final draft with him in his sarcophagus. He knew Larry wouldn’t judge him for it, but for now, it was for his and Aten’s eyes only.

***

He nearly fell out of his sarcophagus in his rush to leave it the next night. He was ready for it, to show Aten the poem, to have movie night with him, to sit and snuggle and talk. It was all terribly romantic, and he loved every bit of it.

But Larry was the only one that greeted him at the main desk.

“It’s okay,” Larry reassured. “He’s just got a bad cold, and he was very worried you could somehow get sick, so he didn’t want to come in-”

“I’ll go to him then,” Ahk interrupted.

“Ah,” Larry mumbled. “You’d have to ch-”

Before Larry could finish his sentence, Ahk dashed to the lounge, changing into his sweatshirt and pants at the speed of light, leaving his royal garb tossed on the couch.

He panted as he arrived back at the desk, feeling to ensure the poem was still safe in the bag of his things that he’d taken from Larry’s locker. He wasn’t sure he’d need any of it, but better safe than sorry. “I’m changed.”

“So I see,” Larry laughed. “I told him I was sending over a surprise. He misses you too, so this will cheer him up. All he could talk about when he called me earlier, actually. He hated the idea of not making it in tonight. I doubt you can get sick though. Anyway, I called you a cab, and you’ll have to be back-”

“I could spend the day with him,” Ahk interrupted. “There’s a...how to word it. A setting? On the tablet. Only I can change it, as the guardian of it. It leaves the magic...on? I don’t know how else to explain it, and I know it has something to do with running on the power of the moon and the sun then, but-”

He waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter right now. What it means, is I could spend the night and day with him, and I promise to be careful and safe and-”

“Slow down!” Larry held up his hands. “I’m not arguing! Though I am curious...you never wanted to change the setting ever before? To see what would happen if you left everyone alive all day?” I know it won’t affect everyone else now, but...”

“I wanted to save it for emergencies,” Ahk replied. “And this is one!”

“Okay,” Larry smiled. “Tell you what. You go change it, and I’ll get the DVDs I brought in your bag. I’m sure he’s got some way to play them. Go on, get it done!”

He ran again, nearly sliding past the open door to his exhibit in his haste. The changing of it was easy enough. An incantation and the flip of a square on the tablet, and a moment later he could feel it was done as the tablet glowed briefly. He felt more energized, more alive. It was wonderful.

Now, he had a boyfriend (or something close to one, since they hadn’t said that word yet) to go look after.

He browsed the DVDs as he rode in the cab. The Clock, Funny Face, An American In Paris, The King and I...movies he knew, and had seen once or twice, but only while on display near the theaters in other museums, the times they had displays on famous films and plays.

The selection only sort of mattered anyway, and Larry had done fine enough. Ideally, they’d be able to sit and talk while the movies played in the background, though he couldn’t fault Aten if he fell asleep. He remembered sickness like that, in a vague way, that left the body weary and weak. So long as they were together, he’d be happy.

Aten’s apartment building was plain, but he remembered other students at other museums speaking of living in such conditions. When school was the priority, any roof (particularly a cheap one) would do.

He used the buzzer in the front hall, and hoped Aten was still awake enough to hear it.

“Larry?” Aten sounded utterly miserable.

“Not Larry,” Ahk replied, and smiled at the happy if tired laugh that answered him.

“No way! Come on up...oh god, I’ll be dressed decent by the time you get up here, I promise.”

“Decent or indecent, you’re perfect either way,” Ahk said before charging up the first two flights of stairs. By the third, he had slowed down. By the fourth, Aten’s floor, he was cursing the invention of stairs.

He leaned against the door, trying to look like he didn’t feel horribly out of breath and exhausted from only four flights of stairs, and knocked.

“Hey! Ah, the stairs got ya. Happens to everyone; they take getting used to,” Aten said as he ushered him in.

“Do they punish you by not putting in an elevator? Are they unaware that the technology exists?”

Aten laughed, then coughed hard.

“Go sit,” Ahk instructed, setting his bag on the small table in between the kitchen and the living room (really just one room, though the table wasn’t a horrible line of demarcation.) “I’m here to take care of you.”

“You might get-”

“I don’t think I can get sick,” Ahk interrupted softly. “And even if I do, you can just return the favor later and take care of me.”

“Deal,” Aten sighed as he flopped onto the couch, looking absolutely adorably cuddly in his own sweater and sweatpants. “Sorry I’m not great company tonight. I feel like shit. Do you have an ancient Egyptian cure for that?”

“No, but Larry apparently bought you cough syrup,” he said, pulling a bottle out of the bag. He hadn’t seen Larry sneak it in, but it was certainly a sweet gesture. “That’s as close to a cure as you’ll get.”

“You don’t know any magic cures for colds?”

“Sorry, my love,” Ahk said as he brought the bottle and DVDs over to the coffee table by the couch, and sat by Aten. “Even we didn’t figure that out. Not with or without magic.”

“Love?” Aten smiled.

The blush left him feeling overly warm, and he looked away. “Sorry, that’s-”

“Really sweet, and just fine,” Aten interrupted, and grabbed his hand. “My DVD player is really out, and kind of shitty, but why don’t we throw something on and you can cuddle with me. I think that’s a cure for a cold, I read it somewhere.”

“Did you now?” Ahk teased as he went to put a DVD on, grabbing one at random. “And where was that? What journal?”

“Very highly respected one,” Aten replied with a grin. “Love-based medicine journal. I think you’d like it.”

He sat at the DVD player for a moment more, and giggled. “Sounds reputable. You’ll have to read it to me sometime.”

“To you?”

“Sure. I can spend the days and nights here now, if I want, and I might need a bedtime story,” Ahk said as he moved back to the couch, the beginning of the movie flashing on the screen of Aten’s TV. “I mean, I said just tonight and tomorrow to Larry. But I think, even after the tablet is fixed, there’s a way for me to arrange it so the magic continuing into the day only affects me.”

There was, and he knew it for sure, but that was his secret to hang onto for now. Larry might not go for it right away, and he wanted to give him time to warm up to it.

“You...so there’s a way to use it so you can stay alive during the day too? You get to spend the night?”

“If you’ll have me,” Ahk replied, wrapping an arm around him. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No, not at all. I want you to stay,” Aten said, then sniffled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you can’t help it. Relax, rest. You need it.”

They sat for a bit then as the King and I played, Aten eventually laying so his head was in Ahk’s lap, and he could run his hands through that reddish-blonde hair, watch the light from the one small lamp hear them catch it.

Aten sighed softly, and stretched carefully, not unlike a cat.

“You like that?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna put me to sleep if you keep playing with it like that though.”

“You need the sleep,” Ahk replied. “I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry.”

Aten buried his face in Ahk’s stomach and his heart leapt. It was so cute it hurt.

“This is way too early to say this, but-”

“Why?” he interrupted. “Why is it too early?”

Aten moved his face back, and looked up at him. “Because in other relationships, it was. I scared them off, I think. I don’t mean anything by it, like we don’t need to run to get married right now or anything, but I mean...okay, I do mean something by it, and that’s that I love you and I love that you seem to love me and I really hope we keep loving each other like this, even though I know nothing’s perfect all the time.”

He took a breath, but Aten coughed and kept going.

“And I know that means we might fight over stupid shit, or have days where we’re both too tired to do anything other than sit near each other, and I know that this has to be a certain way because of who you are and what you have to do, and I’m more than ready to do whatever I have to so that all works out. I’m ready to work to preserve something that feels like it’s gonna be so good, even better than it already is.”

His breath was gone then, as he gently moved Aten up close to him and kissed him. Aten’s arms were around his neck, and he could feel how warm the sickness had made him.

“Dizzy?” he smiled as he let Aten lay back.

“In a good way,” he replied. “I take it that meant...”

“That I love you too, and whatever and however we make this work. If I had my way, I’d never switch the tablet back, and we’d do this right. Staying together, not having to worry about my getting back to the museum at any point.”

His statement hung in the air for a moment as Aten’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. That’s...for me? Really?”

“Really,” Ahk said. “...you’re actually dizzy right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and closed his eyes. “But that’s just the cold or whatever this is fucking up my inner ear, not you, I promise.”

“I know, don’t worry. Maybe I should put you to bed though. We could save the movies for another night.”

“No, I’m good,” Aten said, his eyes still closed, and immediately yawned. “Ignore that, that’s uh...a weird cough.”

“Sure it is,” Ahk said, and started to play with his hair again.

By the time the movie was over, Aten was snoring softly in his lap, turned slightly on his side. He need to be in bed, properly, that much Ahk knew for sure.

Moving him, however, was a less than easy task. He didn’t wake so much as opened and then promptly closed his eyes again as Ahk worked to sit him up, then to drag him off the couch and down the hall to the bedroom, passing the alarmingly small bathroom as they went.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, and I’m so strong,” Ahk teased as he attempted to drop Aten gently on his bed.

“You are so strong,” Aten mumbled, half-muffled by the part of the comforter smashed against his face. “I love it. C’mere, I wanna feel your muscles. Lemme feel.”

“You can do that tomorrow; you need sleep now,” Ahk said as he pondered if trying to move Aten so he was laying in the bed, not just flopped onto one side of it would be worth the trouble. He was at least on the bed, after all, and apparently comfortable enough.

“Nah. Gotta feel ‘em, right now,” Aten rolled over, his eyes barely open as he reached his hands out for Ahk.

“You’re too tired, it’s making you silly.”

Aten grumbled something, and rolled back over, sighing into the comforter.

He bit back a laugh. It was adorably pathetic, the poor thing. “Shall I help you actually get into the bed? I bet you’d be more comfortable than you are now.”

“Eh.”

“I’ll let you snuggle with me if you properly get in the bed.”

Aten scrabbled forward and then up and over so he was finally at one of the pillows on the bed. “I did it.”

“Yes, you did. I should go get you the medicine-”

“No. Just want you,” Aten interrupted. “That’s good medicine.”

“You and that love-based medicine journal. Dangerous reading, it seems,” Ahk joked as he lay down beside Aten.

The way Aten immediately leaned over to kiss him, hard, then moving to lay on top of him was no joke however. It was good, the best, though he knew he needed to stop him. As much as they both might want it, what Aten really needed was rest.

But he let it go for a few moments, finding it impossible to stop from moaning and whimpering under Aten’s kisses and touch.

“Fuck,” he murmured after a particularly searing kiss, that left him grinding his hips as hard as he could against Aten’s. They were both hard, and he wanted desperately to get both of their clothes off, to be as close as possible.

But that wasn’t what they should be doing, and he tried again to speak up, only for it to turn from a “I know you’re tired, why don’t we pick this up in the morning” to a “fuck, please don’t stop” as Aten moaned against his neck, bit down just so on his shoulder, whining and sighing as one of his hands moved to pull Ahk’s legs around him.

Finally, he managed it. “Love...hang on.”

Aten stopped immediately, eyes open wide. “I’m sorry; are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t. You’re sick, and you should be asleep right now. I can see you’ve got your second wind, but we can always finish this in the morning.”

“But you’re close, aren’t you?” that was a wonderfully wicked smile that broke only to kiss him again as Aten’s hips moved against his. “So am I.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he tried to say, but it turned into a gasping sigh. “You...fucking hell. You really want to finish this, now?”

Aten was wide awake now, he could tell that, those deep, dark gorgeous brown eyes looking into his in such a way he couldn’t break the connection of the gaze.

“I want this. As much as I want all of it. To be with you all through tomorrow, to sit and talk and do whatever else we want. To keep seeing you whenever I can, to keep doing this whenever we both want to and can. As much as I want you, for you. The man behind the crown that plays with my hair and drags me into bed when I don’t feel well, that loves me.”

The tears that fell were happy ones as he let himself rock against Aten again, kissing him softly, sweetly. They came within moments of each other, limbs intertwined, his legs pulling Aten as close as he could possibly be.

“You...fuck, sorry, I....” he could hardly catch his breath as they calmed, hips still jerking every now and again against each other. “You need to sleep now.”

“You’re right,” Aten sighed, and kissed him. “So do you. You get to sleep, actually sleep for once. You remember how?”

“Funny,” Ahk smirked as he untangled himself from Aten, to try and find a towel to clean them up. But the bathroom only had room for the toilet, bath, and a medicine cabinet. “You don’t have towels?”

“They’re in here. I don’t have anywhere else to put them, so they’re in my dresser.”

Ahk came back into the bedroom, and frowned as he retrieved one from the third dresser drawer. “I don’t even want to know how much you pay for this little space.”

“Man, even I don’t wanna know that. I try to forget about it until I have to pay it each month. I mean, I budget and shit so I’m never short, not yet at least, but at the same time...it’s nice pretending I don’t know that number,” Aten chuckled, and reached for the towel.

“Let me,” Ahk swatted away his hand, moving the waistband of Aten’s sweatpants so he could clean him. “You sit there and rest.”

“Tired of resting.”

“You’ve been sick what, one day? And you’re sick of resting already?” he teased as he used the same towel to clean himself, enjoying the way Aten’s eyes trailed down as he slipped his sweatpants nearly off his hips.

“Sick of being sick, sick of resting. And we should change, pants at least, or we’ll both feel gross in the morning. Fourth drawer has all my lazy clothes in it.”

The hamper for towels was set right by the hamper for clothes, just before the door of the bedroom, and Ahk tossed the towel in before searching the drawer.

“Oh...my darling,” he giggled as he pulled one of the few Ahkmenrah-branded items from the drawer. A pair of sweatpants bearing a tablet pattern, to be specific. “This is adorable.”

“Hey, they said that money from the sale of those goes to maintaining your exhibit. I couldn’t not get them,” Aten replied. “And I bet you’d look cute in them.”

He changed with a smirk while Aten watched, then tossed a pair of clean grey sweatpants over to him.

The dirty ones didn’t quite make it to the hamper, but neither of them cared. He actually felt tired, of all things, and it was all the more wonderful a feeling because it came with falling asleep beside Aten, in the dark of his tiny bedroom.

He hadn’t even thought of tomorrow’s plans, and he didn’t want to. It might come too soon then, and before he knew it he’d have to be back at the museum.

For now, it was just them, the dark, and the softness and warmth of the sheets and comforter, as he slept, truly slept, for the first time in thousands of years.

#text post #LeeH writes #NATM fic #ahkmenrah fic #ahkmenrah x oc

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