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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

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moonshynecybin · 1 year ago

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if you have the time or inclination, can i ask what the deal with motogp/those boys is about? i don’t mean that in a mean way btw, im just curious and i love drama

i will try to be brief (1/4358)

SO! valentino rossi (born 16 February 1979, aquarius. italian.) is one of the most iconic people in motorsport, CERTAINLY in motogp. he's a 9 time world champion, your favorite driver's favorite driver, and is generally credited with revolutionizing the popularity of the sport by: a. being insanely good at motorcycle racing, and b. in general having a lot of fun about it. lethally charming and charismatic. all time active listening face. just a fun and funny dude that everyone pretty much likes and MANY younger riders idolize. VERY good at handling the media and his legions of cult-like fans. sometimes treated more like a god than a person. i was in the store yesterday and saw one of his themed monster energy drinks despite him retiring two years ago. his fun retirement activity is racing BMWs and running his own motogp team/training facility/cult for young italian racers. (this is where cele and bezz and basically every italian rider not named enea bastianini come from!)

so in 2011ish valentino had won 9 titles, and he decided to leave his current manufacturer and move to italian manufacturer ducati where he generally had a stone-cold terrible time. EXTENDED flop era for a couple years. any time ive watched content that covers this period everyone is so sad. so sad. anyways he GOES BACK to his old manufacturer in 2013 and is much more competitive. kind of just happy to be winning sometimes and be on the podium. 2013 is also where marc comes in. what could go wrong.

marc marquez! (born 17 february 1993, almost exactly 14 years after vale which i'm sure means nothing. also an aquarius. spanish.) childhood sports idols include: dani pedrosa, VALENTINO ROSSI.

marc carved his way up through the feeder championships until casey stoner unexpectedly retired at the end of the 2012 season leaving a seat empty on a VERY good bike for his rookie season. rocked up and was immediately VERY good at winning and very good at being a crazyinsane person on track that made people mad at him lol. hilarious habit of pissing people off via on-track crimes that i really enjoy. motogp riders are already crazy (they do death sport) but marc is famous for taking risks no one else will. basically if he's not winning, he's crashed out or he's maybe crashed YOU out. he wins the championship as a rookie (insane) and the next year's championship as well. heir apparent to the throne. sweet and goofy but is now known as one of the more reserved riders with the press. probably because of all this drama tbh. undisputed GOAT of acting like a slut on camera

throughout 2013-2014, marc and valentino had a good relationship! marc very clearly idolizes him and is like. bowled over completely with delight every time valentino looks his way. vale likes him! theyre buds! truly an endless well of pictures of vale explaining something with his hands and marc babygirling at him. highly recommend checking out @pgaslys every rosquez podium tag for contextual brain damage. insane times.

(IT SHOULD BE NOTED: before the 2015 season marc visits valentino at his practice track in italy, where they compete to break the track record and almost kill each other bc they are so pathologically competitive. APPARENTLY, marc showed up with some official mechanics and valentino was a little pissed off because it was supposed to be a like. fun thing. and to marc winning is the most fun! if you dont come to win why come at all! anyways marc breaks the track record and credits that to cooling their relationship a bit. good post about it here.) here they are that day:

so what could go wrong, right? WELL. valentino has a chance to win his tenth title in 2015. marc is on a flop bike and crashed a bunch so he's not in the championship conversation but vale is leading the standings from the jump, with his main opponent being jorge lorenzo. i think he really wanted that tenth, and dedicated himself to the season in a way he hadnt really ever before (he was a very effortless competitor when he was young. gym-adverse. king).

marc and him start to get into some scraps along the way, notably in argentina (where they made contact and marc crashed out), assen (where they made contact AGAIN and vale won the race), and phillip island (marc won. GREAT race available here for free). phillip island sees vale finishing P4 and jorge lorenzo finishing ahead of him in P3, reducing his championship lead by quite a bit. no real indication of any tension during these races, and they are asked about it!

this is where valentino's delulu era begins! basically, ahead of the next race (🔥🔥SEPANG 2015🔥🔥) in the pre-race press conference, he goes after marc, saying he was deliberately sabotaging valentino in phillip island because marc wanted jorge to win. in valentino's mind. marc wants jorge to win because a. they are both spanish (??) and b. it would mean marc has to win less titles to equal valentino's total. record scratch. freeze frame.

everyone (including marc!) thinks valentino is joking at first bc that is bananascrazyinsane. he was not joking. (it should be noted valentino STILL thinks this lol.) anyways marc is completely blindsided. he thought they were good! yeah they've been chippy on track but that's racing!! truly like. 22 years old and your friend (AND CHILDHOOD IDOL.) is calling you a snake in front of your face with NO prior warning to the entire motogp establishment writ large including your coworkers and REPORTERS. valentino wont even look at him the entire time. the press conference is available here on vimeo. excruciating gifsets of marc's very stiff bewildered PR smile found here.

anyways so. the race. marc is uh. pissed off. he's stuck to valentino like GLUE the entire time and they trade places a bunch of times. now marc is kind of famous for being a little asshole on track anyways, but its not like he's gonna get out of valentino's way and just let him pass after what he said in that press conference so. hand in unlovable hand <3. truly very fun to watch imo even with the sword of damocles hanging over them. marc is fucking on one the entire race and basically refuses to give valentino an inch until vale gets so fed up with his antics that um. well. it certainly looks like he kicked him. vale says he didnt, and that his leg accidently made contact with marc's bike. marcs says. he fucking kicked me. judge for yourself here!

so valentino gets hauled in front of race direction and penalized for the next race (the deciding race for the championship). he has to start from the back of the grid and it kills his chance at a tenth title stone dead. vale places the blame squarely on marc's shoulders and his legions of fans decide marc is public enemy number 1. him and jorge have to get security at the next race because of death threats, someone tries to break into marc's childhood home back in spain, marc's mom throws away all of marc's valentino merchandise from when he was a kid. vale says nothing.

but the thing about marc. is that he loves very hard and chooses his people pretty carefully. didnt really move out of his tiny hometown until he turned 30 and also made his baby brother move in with him kind of guy. so all this is not really enough for him to let go of vale entirely! 2016 is where the pain lives! bc marc is still reaching out and vale himself stays pretty cold for a couple years. they seem to faintly reconcile for a bit but its not anywhere like it was before sepang.

the real nail in the coffin is argentina 2018. another insane race where marc has to start from the back and goes on a rampage through the field and crashes out like three people. i cant remember. this race is also available on youtube for free its very entertaining. every five minutes marc does something insane. vale is one of the people marc crashes out and afterwardshe goes on a big rant about how marc is destroying the sport and is actively dangerous. marc goes to valentino's garage immediately after the race to apologize and vale doesnt even look at him. he gets turned away at the door after vale's best friend/assistant/henchman yells in his face1!!! and thats kind off all she wrote in terms of reconciliation

anyways that's where we are! they are both very much not over it. vale goes on podcasts and is like. in 30 years i will still be mad, im literally never going to get over it it was such a big and unfair thing and i think about it all the time like it was yesterday. and marc (lying) says as time goes by i dont even think about it :) and i care about valentino less and less :))) but yes he hurt me deeply lol. CANNOT stress enough how much this entire thing is now inextricably liked to both of their legacies. the two arguable GOATs of a sport had an epic fleetwood mac-style beatles breakup divorce and everyone wants to talk about it allllll day long including me :)

additional context! really recommend checking out marc's little docuseries he put out this year about his recent struggles with injury. he is so not right in the head and it goes over the valentino drama in ep3. theres also hitting the apex (2015) which goes over the 2013 season (marc's rookie season) and is a really good introduction to all the major players at the time. its like less than 2 hrs long so its not too much of a commitment

also recommend following scholars @babynflames, @its-always-silly-season, @baking-soda, and @f1vegas as well as many others im forgetting rn bc its 2am!

#truly. i am new here. so grain of salt etc #motogp #callie speaks #asks #long post #rosquez

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dansevilpianotea · 18 days ago

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bc dan acts SOO different now compared to wad. sth mustve really clicked in him after doing a solo tour. go watch any video/stream now from that era (ideally not dd bc that was a hightly conceptual character apparently) and you can see that he was trying so hard to be seen as someone else. to get approval from the wrong crowd, as he recently talked about dont get me wrong, i love wad the show itself, but you have to admit that dan hadnt really decided who he wanted to be seen as yet (in a post-coming out, post-phouse univers) before he went on tour, so the person he was during that era reflected that.

it was very hard for me to distinguish the dystopia daily persona to his usual online character because he hadnt really shown enough of that (at the time, post-coming out, mid-hiatus) to be distinguishable from his pre-pandemic, pre-ywgttn depressed lol xd dan character. he just wasnt around a lot. [i think thats what he got wrong with dd. he thought we knew him better than we did at the time but he also wanted to establish his independence from the dnp branding which unfortunately expressed himself as a form of resentment against people who still associated him with that (us phannies). this is why it felt regressive and made me sad, because the dd character seemed like an old, unhappier version of the same dan.]

but now.. look at how happy he is. he is smiling. dan is shining like the sun on a beautiful summer day and is fully embracing his past and his audience.

he doesn't feel the need to crack jokes about whoring it up all over america because he doesnt like commitment or making jabs at his audience for falling for clickbaity 'we are in a relationship'-type titles. he is not resentful anymore. he's not just laughing with us but he is IN on the joke now. he thinks we are funny! and in fact admitted that he doesn't really care about flirting with strangers and is oblivious to being flirted with because he doesnt have any need to.

it seems like he has healed a lot of old wounds regarding his audience. during wad he saw with his own eyes that we arent out to get him but in fact will support him in whatever he's doing. and now this new tour is the victory lap. he's taking phil with him. he is proud to be down bad for his man. 'no fucks left to give' for dan means not putting up the wall anymore protecting his inner child from what it fears are the bullies. he's doing it for himself now, for phil. for them. not for the attention of the wrong people. not for the approval of straight men like those who bullied him. he's doing it for his community of queer people. he knows he's safe here. he trusts us. 'we know you know'. i'm proud of both our community and proud of dnp for that. we really made ourselves get here despite how draining and back-and-forth the hiatus was. maybe the real phan really were the phriends we made along the way <3.

#you know its real bad phandom wise when i write a detailed textpost past midnight while having a uni essay due in 5 days...#im sorry if this is gibberish btw. i spend an hour writing this past midnight and will fuck off to bed now #sage posting #dnp #phan #dan and phil #dnptit #daniel howell #amazingphil

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findafight · 2 years ago

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Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #cc bnf steve #stranger things #this is cleaned up from a version i word vomited in a discord group lol #also Sassafras and Moonshine are steve and Robin's rescue cats they got when they went to adopt one but then found out they were bonded #and stobin had already agreed that theyd eventually get two cats and call them sassafras and moonshine after Stone Soul Picnic #so when faced with platonic soulmate Cat Edition with the names they already wanted. it was a sign.#finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #genderqueer steve harrington

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yridenergyridenergy · 7 months ago

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Dir en grey interview translation notes around The Devil In Me

Just some of the more interesting bits from the single's booklet and from PHY vol. 25.

Kyo

He was the one who came up with the title, and the title was determined before they even attached a song to it. The band basically decided to set a date for a new single ahead of time, not too long after 19990120's release, then they had just one song selection meeting (usually, they have three) to pick a song to work with toward becoming "The Devil In Me". After scheduling a release date, they had to pick a title before even knowing what song would be part of that release for production/logistical reasons.

Kyo wrote the lyrics of The Devil In Me based on his sense of dissociation from world events, how his own issues are not aligned with what the world cares about. He finds that people's lives are sometimes pre-determined the moment they are born. It's really a reflection on: "Why am I the way I am?"

The chorus has so many layers because Kyo wanted to illustrate that inner evil, or wickedness.

While re-recording Yokan, Kyo realized that he used to sing in short bouts, taking a breath more regularly, whereas he's evolved to sing as much as he can in a single, long breath now.

The small changes made to the lyrics of Cage just serve to help Kyo feel more immersed in that old poem, but if he'd wanted to change the lyrics to represent his current mindset, clearly he would have composed a completely new, different song.

Kyo commented in PHY vol. 25 that if the producers wanted a band that sells a lot, they would have had to replace him with someone who is taller, has a nice face and that composes songs that appeal to a wider audience. But around their debut, Kyo had to bend to some of the producers' demands because he had to rely on their knowledge of what would make the band successful. He wanted to make a very dark band, but he had to accept to make songs like Yokan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to sing about corpses and internal organs to a melodious song such as Yokan (lol)."

Kyo feels like Dir en grey is the toughest band for him to be a part of, because the band's shows are especially mentally difficult.

Kaoru

The music of The Devil In Me was Kaoru's idea.

Kaoru agrees that the song kind of ends in a way that the band could have, in the past, followed up on with a second section of the song, but they felt like ending it in a more simple way now, which still represents the band's current state.

Die

The band had a discussion in a dressing room during Tour23 Phalaris Final –The scent of a peaceful death- and that's where they came to an understanding of where they wanted to take the band next. Kyo brought them ideas on what he felt that the next single song should sound like, but in the end, at the selection meeting, the majority of the band chose a completely different song than the other of the 5 that Kyo preferred. He's fine with letting the majority win.

Die started working out in 2018 to make sure to stay in shape for stage performances, and I think that he mentioned that it's important for him to appear young and healthy so that the fans who follow the band also don't feel old.

For Die, he was in part less active on stage during the Dum Spiro Spero era because the songs were dark and complex, so he had to focus more. Because of that, he couldn't enjoy the actual shows as much.

Toshiya

Toshiya mentioned that doing commemorative tours and shows is really just fan service.

Toshiya described Dir en grey as a group of five dictators. Their enemies and friends/allies are all inside that group, and the past 25(+) years have been a continuation of challenges to bring the band forward despite this type of chemical reaction between five egos.

Apparently the band never has casual "weird" conversations where they chat about their interests of the moment, but they quietly observe the others without interacting, like by observing what kind of clothes they wear or are into.

Shinya

Contrary to the band's habit, the vocals did not even exist yet when Shinya had to compose and record his drumming for The Devil In Me. When the vocals were eventually recorded, they kind of matched what Shinya had expected.

However, overall, a couple of members of the band feel like The Devil In Me might be a song that people react to with: "I don't get it", rather that just liking or disliking it.

Shinya dissing The Marrow of a Bone again hahah.

Shinya described The Devil In Me as mysterious, inexplicable.

He started taking some lessons from Buck-Tick's "Anii" (Toll Yagami) to learn a new drumming method. In the past, at the very beginning of his career, Shinya used to wear lead weights at his ankles to hit the pedal heavier and develop muscles, but Yoshiki and other seniors told him how to actually play and he quickly got rid of the weight belts.

#Dir en grey #The Devil In Me #magazine #interview #cage #yokan #25th anniversary

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kiss-me-cill-me · 8 months ago

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Stars Forever

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The night before launch, the crew of the Icarus II stay in a nearby hotel. The sleeping arrangements are less than ideal for you and the ship's cranky physicist.

Warnings: Smut, extremely trope-heavy and contrived shenanigans, kinda enemies-to-lovers, teasing, mentions of birth control (IUDs)

A/N: The title of this fic was inspired by Starless Heaven by Guster. That song has nothing to do with the fic, but it's really pretty so I wanted to share it lol. For the purposes of the "plot" here, reader is taking Trey's place on the ship (sorry Trey). Only one bed is my favorite trope and I just want to write it for every character ever <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Capa was a few paces ahead of you, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The soft yellow lights of the hotel corridor surrounded you on all sides as you glanced at the room numbers.

“Quit following me,” Capa barked, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, once he had turned back around and couldn't see you. This was so typical.

“I'm not following you. I'm looking for my room.”

You checked another room number. That wasn't it. Capa continued down the hallway, not pausing as he spoke over his shoulder again.

“Aren't you with Cassie or Corazon? Go bother one of them,” he spat.

“First of all, I'm not bothering anyone. And second of all, no. Cassie and Cora are together. I'm rooming with someone else.”

At least, you assumed you were. All you had was your assigned room number. With eight crew members and apparently very heavily limited space in the hotel you were staying at for the night, you had been informed that everyone would need to double up. You, Cassie, and Cora had quickly compared room numbers to determine that you were the odd one out, but you had no idea who your own roommate would be. Obviously one of the guys, which was bound to be at least a little awkward.

But, you would be fine. This was only going to be for one night. Tomorrow, the lot of you would be driven to mission control and then launched into space, bound for the Icarus II module currently hovering in the moon’s orbit, and then for the center of the solar system. This hotel was simply the closest accommodation for tonight, even if it was slightly too cramped for all eight of you.

“Well, quit walking so close to me at least.”

Capa’s voice brought you back to reality, and you realized that you had been zoning out and not looking at the last several room numbers. You checked the next one. Still not yours.

You slowed down, but only a little bit, putting some distance between you and Capa. You had no particular desire to be close to him. Though you certainly didn't hate him as much as he seemed to hate you.

His dislike was obvious, but it confused you. You hadn't done anything that should have prompted him to feel so negatively toward you, as far as you were aware. But from the moment you and Capa had met at your first briefing, six months ago, you could tell he was incredibly tense whenever you were in the room.

Finally, your eyes landed on the room number assigned to you. You stopped in your tracks, then looked up, confused. Capa was standing in front of the same room.

“Why don't you get lost?” he asked, still testy.

“This is my room,” you said, motioning to the door.

Capa’s eyes darted to the room number and then back to you. His brows creased as he scowled openly.

“No. There's no way,” he said. “This is my room.”

“Well, it's my room, too,” you insisted.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Usually, Capa’s opinion of you didn't bother you much. He was just a coworker. Both of you had proven that you could put personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission, and whatever he thought about you in his free time didn't much matter. But now, faced with the challenge of sharing a hotel room, you suddenly wished that you had spent a bit more time working on your relationship.

“This has to be some kind of mix-up. Why aren't you with one of the girls?” Capa muttered.

“Maybe because there's three girls and five guys?” you replied, sarcastically. “Jeez, Capa - I thought you were good at math.”

Capa rushed to turn his face away, but you still caught a glimpse of the bright blush that rose on his cheeks. You - almost - felt bad. Usually, you tried not to antagonize him, but sometimes you couldn't help it.

“I know there's an uneven split,” he hissed, slightly wounded. “But why would they put you with me?”

You rolled your eyes again, not caring whether he saw you. Capa always thought of himself as the main character. God forbid he be inconvenienced.

“Look, it's late, and I'd like to go to bed,” you sighed. “I'll stay on my side of the room, you stay on yours, and we won't talk to each other. Deal?”

“Fine,” Capa muttered.

It was just for one night. Already feeling your temper wear thin, you slid your key card into the lock. You didn't hesitate to barge in ahead of Capa, not bothering to hold the door open behind you. He scrambled to follow, muttering something to himself.

You stopped short. Capa nearly crashed into you as you saw it first. There was only one bed.

Capa let out a deep breath of frustration. You watched from out of the corner of your eye as he swiftly turned on his heels and walked out of the room.

“Nope,” he said simply, letting the door slam behind him.

As it turned out, there had been a mix-up. But unfortunately for you and Capa, it was not one that could easily be resolved. Talking to the front desk did nothing, as the clerk explained they were booked up completely.

“There are a lot of people staying overnight so they can watch the big launch tomorrow,” she explained cheerily. “The second Icarus ship. Very exciting stuff!”

Capa looked ready to rip her head off, but somehow restrained himself. You snickered as you followed behind him, this time purposefully trailing as Capa made his way to Captain Kaneda’s room. He was almost cute when he was angry.

Talking to Kaneda didn't get you anywhere either.

“Capa, it's late,” the captain sighed. “You'll both just need to put up with it for one night.”

“But we don't even have separate beds!” Capa grumbled.

“Yes, well… if you two really dislike each other so much, that shouldn't be an issue.”

Capa opened his mouth to speak, but then the scandalous suggestion hidden in the captain’s words dawned on him, and he snapped it shut again. You were tempted to interject and say that you didn't hate Capa - his feelings were all one-sided. But then you thought better of it. You had to admit Capa’s hissy fit was amusing, but if you actually had to share a bed with him, it was better to not provoke him too much.

Capa stormed out of the captain’s room, and you followed. Back in the hallway, you ran into Mace.

“Mace,” Capa called, hurrying to catch up with him. “Hey, Mace - switch rooms with me.”

“Why would I switch rooms with you?” Mace snapped.

Capa and Mace didn't get along either. At all. He must have been truly desperate to ask Mace for help.

“Because I'm with her,” Capa replied, jabbing a finger back at you. “And we only have one bed.”

Mace stopped mid-stride, and turned around to look at you. He was clearly amused. Capa’s scowl deepened, and you shrugged. Mace crossed his arms as he spoke.

“No way in hell am I sharing a bed with her, you, or Searle,” he laughed. “You got the shit room? Tough luck, asshole.”

Mace walked away, leaving Capa to rake an exasperated hand through his hair. He turned to face you, looking you directly in the eye for the first time since you had both left your miserably shared room.

“Okay, one of us needs to take the floor,” he informed you.

You had already started to walk away, and Capa hurried to keep pace beside you.

“Well it's not gonna be me,” you said. “If you can't grow up enough to sleep in the same bed as someone else for one night, you get to take the floor.”

Capa’s cheeks blushed pink again.

“You actually want us to sleep together?” Capa blurted.

“Ugh, don't say it like that!”

You felt your own cheeks start to heat up as Capa’s blush deepened. Each of you pretended not to notice how flustered the other was getting.

You reached the door of your room and slipped the key card inside. This time, you held the door open as Capa followed after you.

“I'm just saying, why sleep on a hard floor the night before one of the biggest days of our lives?” you sighed. “We can both be adults about this.”

Capa silently considered your words for a minute, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze.

“Well, just think about it,” you said, reaching for your small backpack. “I'm gonna get changed.”

Capa choked, letting a small, strangled sound escape his throat as you pulled your pajamas out of the bag. When you looked up at him, his eyes had blown wide.

“You're getting undressed?” he sputtered. “In here?”

“In the bathroom, Capa. Jeez!”

You stepped into the little bathroom, closing the door behind you before he had a chance to reply. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let yourself sink back against the door. This was going to be a long night if Capa kept this up.

You wished he would calm down. It had been funny to watch him scramble around trying to get out of sleeping with you - or, next to you, you corrected yourself. But now, your annoyance had started to settle in again.

With a huff, you straightened up. It was only one night. You could handle this, and you knew Capa could too, once he had gotten over his initial shock. You set about changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth.

When you came out, Capa seemed calmer. He was sitting slouched in the small chair next to the desk, which neither of you would have any occasion to use during such a short stay. It was only one night. The words were a mantra in your head.

“Okay,” Capa relented. “I can agree that it's important we both get a good night's rest. Especially with everything happening tomorrow.”

Privately, you thought to yourself that you were the one who needed sleep more than Capa. Your job as navigator was much more imperative than… whatever he would be doing. Capa was little more than a piece of glorified cargo; just coming along for the ride so that he could deploy the bomb. Which was important, of course - but he would have several months worth of time to catch up on sleep before he had to make himself useful, and-

You stopped yourself. That kind of thinking wasn't helpful. It was just nerves making you snap; you always felt tense the night before a mission. And this would be the longest one you had ever been on. Capa was probably feeling the same way, especially considering this was his first. You thought back to your first flight as a rookie, and felt yourself soften a little.

“So we're both going to be mature about this?” you asked.

“Yes,” Capa agreed, sighing as if it pained him.

“Good. Then go get ready for bed.”

You regretted the words as soon as you'd said them. They felt entirely too domestic. Too familiar. A lover telling her husband to come to bed with her.

Capa stood up, crossing paths awkwardly with you on his way to the bathroom. Once the door had shut behind him, you let out the breath you had been holding. Maybe this was going to be a long night.

While Capa got ready for bed, you crawled awkwardly under the covers. Picking a side so that neither of you would be able to argue about that, you settled in and pulled the blankets over your lap.

Capa stepped out, rustled in his bag for a minute, and then came to stand by his side of the bed.

“So, do I just…”

“Here,” you offered. “We can put a few pillows between us.”

The hotel bed had entirely too many of them anyways. You took a couple and placed them between the spaces that you and Capa would occupy, making a little wall.

Capa climbed into bed with you, a little hesitantly. He flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, and you did the same, plunging the room into inky black.

In the dark, things felt suddenly more… intimate. Your eyes took a long minute to adjust, but when they did, you saw Capa. Still sitting propped up in bed next to you, just like you were as you stared back at him.

“This isn't so bad, right?”

Your voice was barely a whisper. Capa’s response came at a similar volume.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Let's try and get some rest.”

You sank down, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows at your side. Pressing into them almost felt like you were cuddling against Capa’s body; ironically, the makeshift barrier only made the bed feel more crowded.

“Stop wiggling,” Capa complained.

You bit your tongue. You wanted to snap at him, but you reminded yourself again that you were probably just both on edge. Something in Capa’s deep voice sounded almost miserable.

“Sorry,” you said instead. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

The only sound in the room was Capa’s breath. For some reason, it seemed like he was breathing a bit harder than usual.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Fine,” Capa replied, the word curt and short.

You sighed.

“Capa, why do you hate me so much?”

An uncomfortable silence hung between you. For a few seconds, you thought that he wasn't going to answer, and tried to think of how you could backpedal out of your question as you stared up at the ceiling.

“I don't hate you,” Capa said finally. “I just… you're distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echoed.

As far as you could remember, you had never done anything particularly distracting. At least not to any of your fellow crew members. The months you had spent together preparing for this mission were serious, and didn't leave much time for distractions of any kind.

“Don't worry about it,” Capa insisted, which only confused you more.

“What do you mean? Don't worry about being distracting, or don't worry about you calling me that?”

“Don't worry about any of it!” Capa groaned, suddenly exasperated.

“What's up with you?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, leaning over the stack of pillows a bit to get a better look at him. Capa flinched, trying to hunch over himself. But it was too late. You had seen the obvious tent in the blankets.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” you squealed. “That's why you didn't want to sleep with me. You don't hate me at all. You like me.”

“Shut up!” Capa snapped, still trying to cover himself with his hands.

You smiled. This was too good. All those months you'd spent wondering what his deal was, and now it was so obvious. Capa had a crush on you. And a pretty big one, by the looks of it.

“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Capa,” you laughed. “You can admit that you like me.”

“I don't,” Capa insisted.

“I have a hard time believing that,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to his crotch.

“Look, don't tell anyone,” Capa begged.

“Why would I tell anyone?”

You peeled the blankets back, taking the wall of pillows with them. Capa, in his shock, watched as the sheets fell away but did nothing to try and stop you. His hands were still clamped down over his erection, and you lifted them up to guide the blanket away.

“If I told someone,” you continued, “then I'd have to tell them about this…”

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. You felt Capa tense beneath you, sitting up slightly before he melted back into the pillows. You followed him, moving to straddle his waist and put your hands on his shoulders, holding him there.

“W-what are you doing?” Capa stammered.

You’d pulled back to look at him, and even in the darkness you could tell just how wide his eyes had blown.

“I dunno - what do you want me to do?” you teased.

Your fingers trailed up and down his chest, his breath hitching once as you reached the base of his neck.

“Well, you could get off of me, for starters,” he answered, voice wavering.

His deep voice, usually so smooth and clear, had taken on a desperate, slightly strained quality. You moved your fingertips over the hem of his shirt collar, teasing just beneath the fabric.

“Come on, Capa. Be honest,” you prodded. “What do you really want?”

“Fuck,” Capa whined.

“Fuck? We can fuck,” you agreed, voice lowering.

“Th-that’s not what I meant and you know it - Shit!”

Capa interrupted himself as you slid lower, centering your hips over his clothed erection. You rubbed against him, and he clenched his jaw, throwing his head back into the pillows.

“Fuck! How come you like me all of a sudden?” Capa hissed, slightly out of breath.

“Who said I ever didn’t like you?” you questioned, sliding your hands under his shirt.

Capa’s back arched against the mattress as your hands moved over his bare chest. You swore you heard him let out a little moan.

“You’re just doing this to torture me,” he accused.

“And what if I am?” You leaned in to whisper against his ear. “It seems like you kinda like it.”

Your gentle touches turned harsh; raking your nails down Capa’s chest. As he moaned again, you leaned in to capture it with a kiss. His lips slotted into yours, and Capa bit down, desperate. You hummed with your lower lip trapped between his teeth, still dragging your hips against him. Capa mumbled something, and you pulled away to hear him.

“Hm?”

“Please don’t make me come in my pants,” he groaned.

You lifted off of him a little, putting a stop to the friction between you. Capa groaned again, this time at the loss.

“Oh, okay,” you said mischievously. “Let's take you out of them, then.”

You moved to take off his shorts, pushing them down just enough to free his leaking cock. Capa had a pretty one, you had to admit. Even in the dark, you could see how it shined with small, milky beads of his arousal. As it sprang out from the confines of his boxers, Capa whined desperately.

“This too,” you said, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Capa sat up to tear himself out of his t-shirt, and then started to pull off yours. Once you were both out of your shirts, your lips crashed together again, and Capa’s arms wrapped around your waist, pressing into your back to pull you closer.

“Hang on,” you breathed, pulling away to wrestle yourself out of your own shorts.

Tossing them to the side, you went back to straddling Capa, and pushed him back down to lie flat on the mattress. Your bodies were tantalizingly close together, hovering just on the edge of you sinking down onto his cock. Capa’s hands came up to rest on your sides - clearly wanting to touch your breasts but not daring to. You guided his left hand to cup one.

“Fuck,” Capa sighed again, digging his fingers into you.

“Be patient,” you scolded, giggling a little at the way Capa’s brow creased.

“Haven’t you played with me enough?” he moaned.

“I don’t think so, actually.”

You lowered yourself down just a bit, enough to let his tip brush through your folds. You were pretty wet already, but not quite enough to take him in yet. Pressing down more, you trapped his cock between yourself and his stomach, sliding up and down the underside of his length.

“Ah!” Capa gasped.

His fingers tightened on your breast, and you basked in the feel of his hands on you. The way your clit was rubbing against him with every stroke of your hips wasn’t so bad either, and you thought fleetingly that you might actually be able to get both of you off just like this. You considered it, but where was the fun in that?

You sat up, reaching down to position him so that it would only take one more stroke to enter you. You felt how wet you had gotten his shaft, just by rubbing against it, and laughed softly to yourself. Maybe you did like Capa a little more than you’d thought. As you swirled your hips, getting the head of his cock wet enough to slide into you, Capa lost what little remaining resolve he had.

“Fuck - please,” Capa whined.

“Please what?”

“You know what you’re doing, you jerk.”

“And?”

Capa bucked his hips beneath you, but you inched up and away from him, keeping his prize just out of reach.

“Tell me what you want,” you taunted. “You can use your words, right? Or am I ‘distracting’ you again?”

“Yes - it’s very fucking distracting to feel you dripping down my cock,” Capa moaned.

If he was trying to get to you, he would have to do better than that.

“Come on, just tell me. What do you want?”

“You! Fuck,” Capa grunted. “God, I want to be inside you.”

“There, was that so hard?” you laughed.

“Fuck you, you’re driving me crazy.”

He was speaking through clenched teeth, jaw straining once again as his eyes squeezed shut. The sight was enough to make you pulse, clenching around nothing. You had held back for long enough, you decided.

In one swift motion, you sank down onto his cock. The stretch was enough to make you hum, pleasure filling your chest as your walls wrapped around him. Capa was slightly less subtle, moaning loudly at the feel of you.

His desperate, needy sounds were like music to your ears. Slowly, you rocked your hips back and forth, keeping yourself pressed flush against him. Capa let out a breath.

“Don’t stop,” he begged you.

You didn’t plan on it. You kept your pace steady, stopping the rhythm every once in a while to swirl your hips.

As much as you were enjoying the sight of Capa falling apart beneath you, you needed more to help yourself over the edge. You brought your fingers down to your clit, letting the motion of your hips guide the pressure.

“Oh, I’m close,” you sighed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you tossed your head back. Capa’s hands were planted on your hips now, greedily pulling you down as far onto his cock as you would go. His voice was a mess as he answered.

“Me too - fuck - you're gonna need to get off of me.”

“Not yet,” you moaned, grinding your hips down again.

“What do you mean ‘not yet?’” Capa grunted, sounding miserable.

“So close,” you replied, your own voice getting shaky.

And then, you felt the coil in your stomach snap. You cried out, pressing down onto him harder than ever as your nails raked down his chest. While you rode out your high, Capa scrambled to grab at your hips and lift you all the way off of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - get off!” he gasped.

As your orgasm faded, you looked down to see Capa, desperate and flushed-red cock in his hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his own stomach. He’d managed to pull you off just in time, but barely. A smirk crossed your lips as you watched him.

You weren’t sure what he was so worried about. As precaution, all female members of the Icarus crew had been required to have IUDs placed months ago. They would last the duration of the journey, and ensure that no mishaps occurred. Although, now you considered that maybe Capa and the other men hadn’t been told about that, to prevent… well, to prevent them from getting any ideas about doing what Capa and you had just done.

You crawled off of him, grabbing a box of tissues from one of the nightstands.

“Here - clean yourself off,” you told him. “I like to cuddle after.”

Capa took the tissues and wiped up his cum, tossing everything into the trashcan next to the bed. You flopped down on top of him, forcing his arms to wrap around you in surprise before they settled into the curves of your body.

Bringing his lips into a slow kiss, you felt the hum of Capa’s moan against you.

“You’re gonna kill me if this is what the next three years together are going to be like,” Capa complained.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “And besides,” you continued, poking him in the ribs, “what makes you think that this is what the next three years are gonna be like?”

You could practically feel Capa blush, his arms tightening and the skin on his chest getting just a bit hotter.

“I mean…”

“I’m just kidding,” you laughed. “Of course I’m gonna keep torturing you like this. Since you like it so much,” you added.

“Yeah, well… maybe I’ll torture you instead next time,” Capa threatened, tugging you harder against him.

“You can try…” Bringing your lips back up to his face, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s kinda cute that you have the confidence.”

You giggled as Capa held the sides of your face, stopping you from pulling away as he kissed your lips. Both of you sank down, Capa turning to hover over you this time as he kissed you again.

You smiled against his lips. You could certainly think of worse ways to spend the next few years.

Taglist: @cillianslvt, @cillmequick, @dynamitehacke, @franzine-xii, @hanawrites404, @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch, @littlewinter1917, @mothhball, @nnattu, @red-riding-wood, @sea-star-of-the-ocean, @slut4thebroken (also going rogue and tagging @vintagepvssy because of our only one bed trope conversation lol)

#robert capa x reader #robert capa smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #robert capa #LemmyFics

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yaksha-lover · 11 months ago

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i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.

#twst medieval au #twst x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland #feverish-dove

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l-in-the-light · 2 months ago

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The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition post-Punk Hazard (part 4)

This one will definitely live up to it's title. The "love is a hurricane" tale continues~

Luffy again showing interest in what Torao is doing. This is already like third time he shows his unusual interest in him (and it will happen a couple more times in this post as well). He really wants to know more about him. Despite the fact he's usually sleeping through backstories of his own crewmates, like Nami. His unusual interest isn't because he doubts Law, we already know he deeply believes him to be a good person. No, this scene exists purely to show us how big and special interest Luffy has for Law. Luffy is also a bit concerned here, we saw the switch happen in Punk Hazard, from now on Luffy will also worry back for Law.

Someone's trolling Luffy here and it's not Usopp, lol. I wonder if this is how Law was as an older brother to Lammy, telling her fake tales just for amusement. He's a teasing older brother type, isn't he? And now all of that is directed towards Luffy. That's so sweet.

Luffy, you were supposed to tell them before, why are you telling them only now?! Take things a bit more seriously!

Law though is so displeased. Not only a hand was slammed into his arm (he secretly liked it despite everything), he was told to get along (he doesn't want to!), and Luffy disappointed him for not sharing about the alliance before.

But let's stop at the "get along" complaint for a bit. Luffy, you goofhead, you didn't introduce Law to your crew?? (and please, don't you know Luffy, ofc Luffy didn't do it "offscreen", this is Luffy we're talking about! He doesn't do introductions! At all!) Poor Law doesn't know their names! How is he supposed to get along with them?? You think Law would ask them about their names? Definitely not! Can you even imagine Law asking about anyone's name?? (yeah, I can't either lol) So to save up his face, he would have to utilize all that info he gathered beforehand (he already knew who they were all the way back at Sabaody after all!).

So he recognized Robin, Nami, Zoro, Sanji, Chopper (and so is able to call them by their names, tho it's worth noting Sanji being a special case and referred to by his title), but he didn't apparently know about Brook, Franky or Usopp (because they got called Bone-ya, Robo-ya and Nose-ya instead of their names+ya). Brook got recruited in Thriller Bark so there wasn't any wanted poster for him back then in Sabaody, so that's understandable. There was one for Franky already, but before timeskip Franky looked completely different so Law didn't recognize him. And...

wait for it...

He didn't recognize Sniperking as Usopp that's why he became "Nose-ya". Yes, the joke lives on! LOL.

Oh Luffy, you really don't make Law's life easier for him, do you? And this way Law got exposed that he did research a bit about the Strawhats before, enough to memorize them. (I mean not like Bartolomeo, but... but! It kinda looks a bit like that here, doesn't it).

Law will get back at Luffy in Zou for that, no worries. Now you will never see the "Law didn't introduce his crew" in any other light from now on, haha. It was a payback. Luffy didn't care tho lol.

You don't have to believe me on that one, but you can't really deny it does sound suspiciously consistent, doesn't it? :3

Law: Why is everyone telling me that?

Also Sanji, we appreciate it, but you're a little bit late with that warning there lol.

To be honest, I think Law is actually perfectly aware of that, but at the same time he wouldn't mind to be called a friend anyway. He only minds it now because he wants to keep his distance and not form any attachments on his way. And doing poor job at it too.

Luffy looks so happy sitting there next to Law, he looks like he's having the best time in his life. He's probably having a lot of ideas of what to do together with Law now that they're friends in alliance. (many of which would not be met with Law's enthusiasm probably lol).

Luffy: Did you just say dinner will happen 5 times a day from now on??

Luffy's level of excitement here is absolutely stunning. And one more thing very important to note: remember how Luffy usually acts when someone yaps a lot? He might for example ask Nami about something difficult, but quickly loses interest with the answer. He often sleeps through explanations. But here? Law's got his full attention! The one who is actually napping through this is Brook, not Luffy. Luffy thinks Torao is cool and he *wants* to listen to him.

Law, where are you looking? Clearly at your favourite Mugiwara-ya grinning over there. His eyes are always tracking Luffy.

A moment later Luffy turns to see Kin and Zoro fight. Do you all think he noticed Law staring at him right there? You two need to stop being so cute. I can't even believe Oda actually drew a scene like that in shonen, even if he didn't make it obvious. I mean, look at it, Luffy's eyes are shining, I bet their eyes met. I told you all that One Piece is a story about love. Omg I'm disgusted with how this scene tugs on my heart right now. To be fair, I'm not even the first person to notice that Law is staring at Luffy there, I saw people pointing it out before.

Luffy: Hey look Law, we're famous!!

Law: But ofc we are, what do you mean?

Luffy is again trying to get any sort of reaction out of Law directed just for him (did he feel encouraged after he noticed Law staring at him the day before?). Luffy, please, stop, this is getting more and more embarrassing to watch you craving for Law's attention like this.

Law though always gives him that attention, curiously enough. There's not even one frame of Luffy calling out to him and Law just ignoring him. Which shouldn't be surprising, Law always seeks out Luffy as well, rarely with words, but at least with his stares.

In this regard, they're a really good match. Luffy wants to be pampered, and Law wants to pamper. I would usually say it's gross, but it's actually really heartwarming. They both get something out of it that they were both craving.

Law: Hey, am I not providing you with enough entertainment? Forget those boring fellas!

Someone's a bit jelly...

And Brook is again watching over them. God, I swear, it feels like he just *knows*.

Again, Luffy listening to Law talking. He would listen to him no matter what Law is saying, wouldn't he? Luffy is known for his terribly short attention span, but for Law he is capable of unusual feats.

(Also notice Law is always grabbing Caesar by his clothes, never in direct contact)

Time for the ransom call. I know that everyone is screaming there, but Law is suspiciously quiet, this is when he should be firm and confident, but instead he's just standing there. I think it means he was actually pretty anxious about this call, kinda taken aback (and it's not because of people screaming around, he had enough time to get used to that with the Strawhats, also usually it doesn't actually faze him). Luffy on the other hand is excited and thinks this is all super fun lol.

And then Luffy goes and takes over the call. Of course we all think he did it just because he's Luffy and that Law is displeased/angry here, but let's do uno reverse. I might turn your worldview upside down from this point on.

What if Luffy actually sensed Law's anxiety and decided he will help him? Luffy is after all really good at reading people's emotions, right? And of course he would want to help his beloved Torao.

Law looks displeased, but that's because of a sudden closeness. Those of you that followed my series on Law's fear of touch and closeness know what I mean. He can stand Luffy when he's close to him, but not out of a blue like that - he needs to brace himself first. That's why his first instinct here is to try to move away. Sure enough, right in the next moment we see Luffy holding the transponder, which means Law lets him do that actually. If he truly was so displeased and angry, he would have reacted faster to take it back or shouted at him.

Luffy's fuming here for no reason whatsover, Doflamingo didn't actually say anything bad to him yet (or at all really). Sure, Luffy got mad over Caesar, but the conversation already changed to something else, and Luffy is still showing an attitude. He's doing it for Law, isn't he.

Law meanwhile is just standing there, still not attempting to take the transponder back. He's not even trying or talking at all. This really doesn't support the idea of "he's so mad at Luffy for doing this", it actually seems to be the exact opposite: he's kinda overwhelmed here and was ever since Doflamingo picked up his call. Ofc he's also more and more distressed now, bracing himself mentally, because he knows he needs to do something and can't leave it all up to Luffy.

Law realized he needs to stop it, because Doflamingo is trying to bait Luffy, and everyone knows Luffy is weak to baits. In a way, stepping up just to prevent Luffy from getting into dangerous scenario, helped him overcome his own helplessness and anxiety. Luffy meanwhile indeed is losing it lol.

Let's look more closely to Law and Doflamingo's conversation here. Law is trying to make the talk very short, down to business and finish it off quickly. Doffy though stays confident and even tries to mock Law a little bit. It's almost like he's saying "Law, kid, you forgot to show me that my subordinate is fine, you need to step up your kidnapping game a little", he's kinda having this patronizing vibe here. "First step of a ransom call, remember? I taught you that myself".

Putting it all together can explain why Law is so anxious, he expected to hear Doflamingo all devastated, angry even after giving up warlord's title, instead Doflamingo is relaxed, mocking and confident, generally acting like he has the upper hand here. Law is worried, did he miss something, because this is not how it should look like, and he is right. Also he can't stand Doflamingo's confident tone, it's most likely making him feel weak, remembering the past. In their fight in Dressrosa Law will try his best to overcome this feeling by mocking Doflamingo back, but right here he was surprised and unprepared. He probably felt again like a kid, still part of Doflamingo's family, and Doffy's mocking tone like a mentor/parental figure scolding his clumsy subordinate truly added salt to the wound.

Law grits his teeth and continues, attempting to finish the call as soon as possible, full of bad feelings. And this is when Luffy snaps back to reality, gasping and reminding himself "I need to help Torao!" and so he does, by doing actually the best thing possible: cutting off the call.

This seems not-canon to you I bet, but I truly think Luffy tried to actually support Law here and it DID work in the end.

Of course Strawhats don't catch up to it and think Luffy just straightup ruined everything, but look at Law's reaction here. He's suddenly calm and does not blame Luffy for anything, in fact, he goes as far as to declare this is all fine. Would he really say something like that if he was truly angry? No, of course not, we have seen him angry everytime he truly believes his plan was just kicked out of the window by a Strawhat Luffy. This is simply not the case here.

Law is still looking pretty anxious there, probably thinking over multiple scenarios in his head. What did he miss? Why is Doflamingo so confident? This is crucial, after all it's not only about his own safety, but safety of Luffy and his crew.

Luffy meanwhile shows his interest in Law again, wanting to know about Law's adventures. He's probably trying to make Law think of something else instead of overworrying, put his mind off of it. Luffy really sticks with his resolve here of taking care of Law as well.

Also it's ultimately cute how Law is mechanically correcting Luffy on the name of the island (helpfully pointing out only the part he got wrong so it's a shorter word to remember for Luffy, awww), but he does it without even an exclamation mark there. He's not angry or irritated about it. In fact, it just shows he understands Luffy has problem with long and complicated words. He probably knows that's the reason he became "Torao" as well. He gets it, he accepts it, in fact he has no problem with it whatsoever.

Even when distressed and lost in his thoughts Law makes sure to still respond to Luffy when he asks something from him, and Luffy this time uses it to bring him out of his thoughts instead of just seeking attention.

Luffy: Yay, so if Torao has never before been to that island, it means we will have an adventure together! And not just one, there's no way I will let you leave me right afterwards. We're so gonna do more adventures! Dressrosa and Wano! Two adventures with Torao!

Law: This isn't an adventure, be serious!! Our lives are on the line!!

Luffy: Breakfast time!

Law: Breakfast time! *gasp* fuck!

Someone got caught up in someone else's pace. 1:0 for Luffy, he did manage to make Trafalgar Law take a break from his worrying.

Now to understand Law's exaggerated reaction here as something more than just a comedy moment we need to first elaborate a bit on the chapter's title that sets the tone between Doflamingo-Luffy-Law interactions and honestly spans through the whole of Dressrosa arc. This is chapter 700 titled "his pace", the next round chapter is 800 which wraps up Dressrosa. Chapters with round numbers tend to have a huge impact on the whole storyline happening (because Oda really loves his number games).

"Pace" from the title means someone dictating how fast the events are going or swaying things to move in their preferred fashion. Doflamingo does it in this snail talk by playing confident and trying to bait Luffy and undermine Law's confidence. Later he also showers his subordinates with compliments so they will do what he asks them to do - that's also setting pace by keeping everyone in line.

Law's pace in this chapter (and in whole of post-punk hazard transition) was him spiraling the things to move where he wants them, his first snail talk with Doffy was just Law having an overwhelming victory over him. Then through the span of one night things move very fast exactly towards the result Law wanted (Doflamingo resigning from warlord's position). Law usually doesn't use his power of controlling pace to make people do what he wants (unlike Doffy), that's not his style, they're just forced to stick for the ride, but he always leaves liberty in their own hands. For example, when he told Luffy to kidnap Caesar or assemble back Kinemon, he didn't tell them exactly step by step how they should do it: instead he left it to their judgement. In other words, he tells them what to do but not *how* to do stuff, he instead trusts in their ability to figure it out on their own.

And then we have Luffy, who selfishly chooses islands they visit and what enemies they're fighting, so he's also "setting the pace" for others. He controls it to a minimum as well like Law, he just makes sure to take care of the biggest danger himself and trusts the others to do whatever they want, he gives them freedom. His crew do their best out of their own free will to deserve Luffy's trust, every chess piece on the board moves according to what they believe is right, so Luffy's board isn't actually a game of one vs one, but instead of one versus many, because every player has as much liberty as Luffy has.

In this chapter Law lost to Doflamingo's pace, but restored himself, and lost to Luffy's pace and this time declared defeat. Doflamingo won against Law, almost won against Luffy, but then Luffy defeated him in one neat swipe. And why? Because Luffy actually wasn't playing alone, Law and Luffy supported each other there. So in the end Doflamingo lost to both of them.

You think Law didn't take a defeat against Luffy here? Then let's rewind back:

Remember this scene? Law was amused that Smoker would even think that Law can overpace Luffy (after all Luffy punched Caesar instead of kidnapping him and did a feast instead of leaving immediately), but he wasn't going to always allow Luffy to do that. Here he declares he's gonna set the pace and make Luffy follow his plan. He does it because it's neccessary or he won't be able to protect him, but also because of his petty pride or "saving up face", if you prefer that term here. He's not gonna just sit there and let Luffy do everything he wants and wait for him to finish off enemies. Law is throwing a challenge, he's gonna compete with Luffy in that regard.

But before they even reach Dressrosa Law already declares his defeat. Let me show you how: remember how he always loses his hat when he's losing?

Like here. Or in Dressrosa, or Winner Island.

Wait, where's his hat here? And this is the next frame after Law's big comical "gasp" moment, when he got dragged into Luffy's pace of "enough worrying, time for breakfast!". Yep, he knew he lost there, allowed himself to loosen up and took off his hat by himself as a sign of his defeat and Luffy's victory. But that's also because he's just a good mannered boy who knows you don't eat with your hat on.

It truly is a 1:0 for Luffy and Law is actually okay with that (losing to Luffy's pace is actually not a negative experience, because Luffy doesn't manipulate people with evil agenda in mind, like Doflamingo. He did it only because he wants Law to relax). And this sets up how the events went on in Dressrosa.

Also can I just point out that all it took for Luffy to sway him was to declare with a smile "Yay adventure with Law! Can't wait! And now breakfast!" and Law was already dragged into his pace? I mean... Law, Luffy didn't even do anything special. He was just basically himself there. Law's so smitten with him that it's all it took, honestly. Of course the support he got on that call from him also counted into that, but Law didn't declare defeat then yet, after all he also supported Luffy back in that call.

In later arcs Law will still attempt to be petty about this ongoing "competition", not wanting to leave it all up to Luffy, lol. He migth have lost once, but the war is ongoing! He's such a petty loser, I adore that flaw in him.

Luffy butting-in, making sure Kinemon doesn't just steal Law away for the Wano adventure. Hey, I'm gonna be part of that adventure as well!

Law's attempt to stop him there is really miserable. He can't bring himself up to deny Luffy when he sounds so happy, huh. My heart can't take it.

Law's already back to worrying again haha. His neverending journey of worrying when together with Luffy continues! Let it never end honestly.

He's also conflicted, because everytime Luffy acts so excited he thinks back to Lammy, as she was the exactly same energetic type of a person as Luffy haha.

i don't think Luffy gets it that this time around he's only making Law worry more and not less, awww.

That's all for now. Dressrosa will come up next (I might take a break from this series to answer some asks first :D). I hope you enjoyed seeing this chapter through different lens, it's fine if you still prefer it as just a comedy moment of Luffy acting like a complete menace and Law regretting his life choices. I think it's neat that the manga supports actually both interpretations, one on more casual level and the other more in-depth.

There is something I want to share about World Seeker Law's dlc, it's not really a spoiler, just one line that Law says that relates to the previous part of this series of posts (if you want to skip it then just don't read from now on! There's nothing more to this post afterwards).

This is what Law says in the game. I know that games are not considered 100% canon, but Oda DID work on both World Seeker and Odyssey, and honestly many lines and overall feeling of the game goes along with the canon. Law's complicated relation to closeness is definitely a part of this DLC, for example.

And here he says he doesn't mind what people actually call him! He never complained about "Torao" when Luffy called him this way, not even once. But he does make this one sour face when Nami does that as well. Makes one really think why is this such a special case for him, doesn't it? :D Again, he wants it to be a special name only from Luffy, doesn't he.

#one piece #trafalgar law #lawlu #luffy #lulaw #luffy x law #love is a hurricane #one piece meta #I adore your tags cooknumber3 <3 #lawlu is also my fav brand of chaotic and stupid and also heartwarming #despite Law's attempts to keep it cold #at least I have something to dig thanks to him and it's not easy to figure out what's under his facade #I hope to deliver even more delights :D #also you made me want to make it all into a video just so I can add a sappy romantic track when they meet up in PH #everytime I type PH I think of Pyramid Head not Punk Hazard lol #Law would be the perfect protagonist for a horror game actually #anyway I still don't think it's a romantic love but it's embarrassing af geez

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leqonsluv3r · 10 months ago

Note

Hey how's it going? I was wondering if you would do an imagine of re4r Leon x Wesker reader, where she is Wesker's daughter

heartbeat

re4!leon kennedy x weskers!daughter reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, enemies to lovers basic troupe (bc i can and im a slut for it), some foul language, mentions of readers raging daddy issues (thanks wesker), age difference by like a few years (reader is 21 and leon is 27), reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, smut (obviously), unprotected sex (for the love of god please wrap it), praise (and some small degradation), hair pulling, he slaps her once, spanking, slightly soft!dom leon, bratty and stubborn asf reader and whatever foul things i’m forgetting

“he sees her in a way that makes her bones ache, like the oncoming of a storm or a tornado before it wipes people out. she sees it, whenever she’s unfortunate enough to run into him. she sees the way he looks down at her (and not just for her age, or her height) but for who her dad is. albert wesker. did she ever want to be born? carry that title at the agency? fuck no, she never did. but leon, looking down at her like scum off of his shoe…only made her burn more. in a way that was dangerous, yet thrilling.”

— or leon finally has enough of weskers daughters shit and decides to put her in her place

an: this request is hopefully what you asked for anon? and if not, so sorry in advance lol. i just took your idea and ran with it. also, it’s super long, i got carried away. also making up for how long i haven’t posted. pls enjoy <3

hate it’s a very strong word. it’s the only word she’s ever used to describe dislikes and things she’d rather not talk about.

she hates leon, even though she’s not supposed to. she’s supposed to like him, be buddy buddy with him but she can’t bring herself to be. not when he looks at her like she killed his family.

she didn’t, just for some context.

she’s tried to reconcile with the feeling of him glaring daggers at her every five seconds whenever they’re in the same room. or the way he looks when someone else mentions your name. it’s almost like a fun drinking game.

see how many times leon can glare at you in one social gathering before your hammered. she would play it if she drank, just to ease some of the tension of the heated looks that coated his blue eyes.

and what did she ever do to him anyways? absolutely nothing. she just existed and apparently, just like her father, that was enough to make her scum on the bottom of the hypothetical shoe.

her father, that was another reason she hated when leon would glare at her. it’s like that’s all he could see, she could see the hatred burn in his irises like the plague. a hatred for her, her father and seemingly all the things that her father had done wrong.

which was a lot, to be fair.

but having to be right next to leon, while your father talked to you both, it was like she was in her worst nightmare and she could pinch herself just so she would wake up.

that was what was happening right now, sitting in the organizations main office, ada standing idle at the door, almost as if she was guarding it from her or leon making a run for it.

she did not want to be here with her enemy and the guy she hates sitting next to her while they wait for her father. leon apparently didn’t want to be here either, if his grumbles and small looks of discomfort were any indicator.

he was literally sitting in his rivals office, sneaking glances at ada every so often, sending small glares in your direction, all while they waited for your father to make his designated appearance.

eventually ada gets uncomfortable with the silence and the looks and leaves, probably to stand outside the room. you thank god, crossing your legs in your chair and scooting it away from leon’s figure in the chair next to her.

it’s like the tension could be cut in this room with a knife, she could see him glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. subtle glares that she could pinpoint not just from her endless training but from the fact of leon’s obvious lack of subtlety.

“can i help you? or would you rather just keep glaring at me like i killed your puppy?” she says with a small sudden look in his direction, catching him head on. he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, tossing some of his hair out of his eyes, “i don’t have to answer you.” he responds.

“at least you can fucking speak. i thought you only could communicate with grunts and scoffs.” she says with a small sarcastic smile, looking directly at him as if to size him up or something. she knew she could probably take him if it came to that. the thought excited her but also made her heart pick up.

he mutters something to himself and doesn’t say anything, which is typical leon behavior when he’s even in the same vicinity as her. she didn’t know why her father wanted them both here.

and she had no clue why she was literally being forced to sit in a room with someone who avoided her like the plague. she shifts in her seat and looks down at her lap again, drumming her manicured hands against her knee and bouncing her leg as she waited.

the silence was almost as thick as the tension, it could probably swallow them both if they weren’t careful. “can you stop doing that?” she hears him say in a low voice. she rolls her eyes internally, what was his problem now?

“stop doing what?” she says in a small snap, obviously irritated as she whips her head in his direction to look at him. his blue eyes were hard, stone like and it felt like he could freeze her just with a look. she was surprised that she wasn’t.

“tapping your leg. moving it. just stop.” he says as he glances towards her legs crossed over each other in the chair, one bouncing regularly as she just sat there and did absolutely nothing.

seriously? what is his fucking deal? she thinks to herself as she rolls her eyes at him again, ignoring his request as she continues to bounce her foot in her chair. she simply uncrosses them and lets her boot clad feet rest on the floor, still bouncing one leg.

he shoots her daggers, like a look that could slice her skin clean open. she didn’t dare look at him, knowing that she was pushing him, making him more annoyed and irritated. but she didn’t really care, she just wanted her dad to be here so she could get the fuck away from leon and his penetrating look.

he doesn’t say anything, the glares and sighs and scoffs never ending as she kept bouncing her knee as she anxiously waited. eventually, he got fed up and slammed a hand down on her knee that was bouncing.

“enough. i said quit it.” he says in a low voice towards her, leaning over the arm of his chair so that he could make his message quite clear: don’t fuck with him. she swallows and her eyes go a tad wide, she looks down at the knee he’s holding, his hand so large over her knee it makes images appear in her mind that she wants to not have right now.

“okay, jesus. i won’t do it anymore, just let go of me.” she says in irritated tone, moving her knee and her entire chair away from him. he slips his hand away and just presses his lips together, his jaw clenching like a fist. she swallows subtly and just keeps herself away from him.

“good. your finally fucking learning something.” he says in a small smirk finds its way onto his lips, she doesn’t dare look over at him fully. settling for the peripheral view of him in his chair next to hers, sitting behind the desk.

she doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before the door opens and albert wesker finally makes his long delayed appearance. and for once, she’s glad her father is actually in the room, the lesser of two evils at the moment.

but it still rings in her mind, what did leon mean? what did any of this mean? and…why did that touch on her knee send her into such a wave of confusion? she’d hope that some questions would be silently answered soon.

turns out that the reason they were both there, was not for some lecture or some lesson. but rather for leon to teach her more about discrepancy during missions. which unfortunately for her meant that she had to train with him.

leon wasn’t thrilled about it either, he looked like he was about ready to punch her dad when he made the suggestion. and he argued, “why me? why not someone from this organization? why the rivals?” whining like a child who got paired with another child he didn’t like.

she would’ve laughed if her father wasn’t staring directly at her, glaring like she would get reprimanded for looking at him funny. but wesker didn’t answer leon’s question, just annoyingly stated that it was because he said, and unfortunately for the both of them thats how they ended up in their current position.

standing in a training room at the DSO, letting him attempt to teach her some moves. which if his instruction wasn’t good, she would be totally lost. at least he had that going for him.

she was offended by her father’s statement, not living up to his fucking beyond perfect standards. like no matter what she did, whatever mission she completed…it was like it meant nothing to him.

like she was just supposed to be just like him, stoic and untouchable. she wasn’t, she was nothing like him and he had to know that or he wouldn’t push her so hard and break her down like this.

knowing her weak spot of hatred for leon kennedy, using him as an excuse so she could get pushed harder and harder until she eventually broke into pieces. knowing how this would all play out, letting leon have his fun with throwing punches and swings her way like he’s probably always wanted too.

this is their third training session, the first two sessions spanned two weeks after the discussion with her father in the organization’s office. during this particular training session leon had been giving her shit, trying to poke at her, hitting all her weak spots that she didn’t even know she had.

“step into it and actually act like you want to hit me.” he says harshly as he looks down at her, his chest rising and falling fast as he pulls her up harshly off the matted floor. she swallows and tries to catch her breath.

“i do want to hit you. just not for training purposes.” she hisses as she lets him pull her up roughly by her arm, landing on her own two feet again, pulling out of his grab on her arm. he sends her a disappointing look, “funny.” he deadpans as he looks at her.

“oh yeah, fucking hysterical.” she moves back away from him, moving hair behind her shoulder as she does, going to the edge of the mat in the training room. he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “maybe if you fucking hit me like you were supposed too-“

“shut up! shut the fuck up. i will hit you. i will.” she says in a hiss as she comes charging towards him, almost sprinting as she tries to land a punch to his face but he blocks her faster, holding her fist in his large hand. “enough.” he demands, pushing her fist away harshly.

he spoke in that same tone like he did four weeks ago and she felt something in her falter. something weaken, like a dying fire inside of her bones and body. she stopped, for her own good, dropping her hand back by her side.

“you need to stop being so fucking counter intuitive with your movements. i could see that weak punch coming from a mile away.” he explains as firmly as he could, sending a small look of irritation her direction. she catches the look, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

“and how does one do that?” she says with a small look of annoyance and obvious boredom. something happening within her at his firm tone that she couldn’t quite place. it just felt different, she didn’t know how to feel about it.

he takes a step towards her, slow and methodical. he takes her hand that attempted to throw a punch at her, he makes a fist with her smaller hand, forming a punch gesture. “this,” he raises her formed fist by her wrist. her breath faltering a little as he does this.

“you never ever want to form a loose fist, ever. first step,” he says with conviction and firmness, she can’t even pretend to be irritated. not now, not with his hands on her hand and his tone so firm and reprimanding.

“fist tight, curled knuckles but keep them out.” he says as he runs the pads of his fingers over her knuckles, smoothing them out as if they were ripples in the sea. she simply lets him, not having the fight left in her to even move. she simply swallows and nods, as if she could focus on his direction right now.

“second thing,” he holds her wrist up with the curled fist he formed with her fingers, “always aim with purpose. always throw your punch with intention.” he says firmly, looking down deep into her eyes as he did so the message came across.

he chuckles dryly, “not like you did before when you charged at me.” he states, holding her tiny wrist in his large hand. proving his point further by dropping her hand back down at her side. her fist uncurling as a breath is released from her lips.

“now, let’s try another defense, practice the punch and do what i told you. maybe you won’t be entirely unfortunate.” he says with a small crooked smirk, mocking her obviously as he backed up. she didn’t have it in her to poke him back, she didn’t even know what was happening to her.

like she had been reduced to a puddle at his hands, only a simple touch on her hand, a firm tone and a teaching. not even a lecture, just a simple firm instruction. she was confused, but she would continue.

even though her insides felt strange and uncomfortable, like a change that was happening inside of her that she couldn’t even pinpoint and she hated it.

a month into training sessions and she still felt that weird feeling in her body whenever his tone was firm and hard towards her, like a scolding parent.

but now it was different, she felt like she was suddenly awakened. like a part of her was different. she knew it wasn’t just his training. she could tell that much, leon must’ve sensed something.

because now he’s talking to her as they sit down on the bench of the D.S.O training room, her body turned towards him, crossing her legs in her lap. she sips from her water bottle, wiping her sweaty forehead as she feels his presence next to her on the bench.

“does it hurt?” he asks suddenly, making her snap her eyes towards him, her brows furrowed. she’s surprised he wasn’t bickering with her or lecturing her on her performance in his training he’s been giving her.

“does what hurt?” she asks as she swallows the water, looking at him, brushing some sweaty hair out of her eyes from her forehead. her water bottle clenched firmly in her lap, adjusting on the bench.

he sighs and leans forward a little, propping his elbows on his knees. she keeps her eyes trained on him, where they about to have a heart to heart? seriously? she could act shocked, but deep down within her she felt something shift. “your relationship with your father. does it hurt?” he asks in almost a whisper. like it wasn’t supposed to be spoken.

she parts her lips a little, glancing down at her water bottle as she tried to think of an answer. did it hurt? did the relationship with her father, the untouchable albert wesker, hurt?

if it was like asking if a cactus hurt if you touched it, or if fire burned you if you got too close.

she already knew her answer after a few beats of silence, keeping her legs crossed on the bench. she swallows, words that have wanted to be long awaited left her mouth, “yeah, it hurts. but not for the reasons you probably think.” she responds softly.

he glances over his shoulder at her, letting it sink in, letting her response soak into his bones. “what reasons then?” he asks her, moving some of his hair out of his eyes with a small move of his head. he needed to know if his suspicions were correct or not.

or if he had been hating her almost unprovoked by the simple nature of who her dad was.

she takes a glance back up at him, looking at the way his muscles strained against the back of his t-shirt that he had worn to training today. she feels heat pool between her legs and bites her lip, a response to his question on the tip of her tongue.

“he expects perfection, all the time. blood or not blood. and it’s like no matter what i do, no matter how many missions i go on, it’s never enough.” she explains as she tries to focus on the conversation with him, she can’t deny that her gaze on him could burn holes if she looked hard enough.

and the uncomfortable pooling in her underwear did not help this situation one bit.

but still she continues, “being his daughter is a burden when it should feel like a blessing.” she whispers as she blinks her eyes, the truth felt freeing even if it was to leon, an enemy almost turned acquaintance in this past month.

he looks over at her again, leaning up and settling straight against the bench. he looks almost like he’s finally understanding now. getting both sides of the story. like he had been looking at his enemy or his competitor as one, when really it was just her and wesker.

she wasn’t him, he knew that now. he needed to be sure and now he was. he felt guilty like he had hated this girl forever for no purpose entirely, just because her father had a tainted reputation within all agency’s.

“is it really that bad?” he asks softly, again, almost as if he’s afraid to ask it. like it had been so bad hypothetically and it was too much. leon fears he already knows the answer to his question.

his blue eyes look over her sweaty and worn out frame, sitting innocently criss crossed on the bench next to him in the training room. she looked like a hurt little girl who had scraped her knee on the pavement and now leon was the one to tend to her wounds.

not her father.

“my last mission, i went to aruba. i took down an entire fleet of enemies and people without batting an eye. i typed up the report, gave it back to him and instead of saying good job, anything…he told me that my diligence was sloppy and unnecessary.” she says with a small swallow as she looks down at her water bottle in her lap, blinking some water away from her eyes.

tears or sweat? who knew.

her hair followed her, curtaining her face only slightly. as she let out a pained laugh, shaking her head, leon had opened the emotional can of worms without even potentially realizing it. “as if me taking down people, almost an entire colony, meant nothing to him.” she cracks out, taking a small shaky breath.

she looks over at him with a slightly pained expression, moving her hair out of her eyes. he could see it in her eyes when she looked at him. he wishes he could fix what damage wesker had done by simply being her father.

but he knew he couldn’t. he could only stop hating her, and that was easier said than done. but he could try, make her have something or rather someone to latch onto, to reprimand her in a way that didn’t damage her self esteem.

“what if i told you that i don’t want to be at your throat anymore? what would you say to that?” he says with a small press of his lips, looking over her sweaty and exhausted body. his cock hardened in his training gear of the thought of what lie beneath her workout outfit.

god, what would her lips feel like? sucking him off, pretty and perfect as he slid his dick into her mouth. probably look up at him all teary eyed and desperate. hell, she would probably thank him for it.

he was trying to ignore it, his dick twitching in his pants as he saw her think over his words, the gears turning in her brain.

she felt her lips part, a small breath leaving her. was it shock? some undercurrent of happiness? she didn’t know she couldn’t piece it together right now. not when she was trying to ignore her arousal and stay focused on the words coming out of leon’s mouth.

“i’d like that a lot.” she responds with a small smile, one that he hadn’t seen before. one that she hadn’t let grace her face in years it felt like. he knew this wasn’t going to be easy, being so close to her now, not being enemies.

but still, that understanding was there. she didn’t need him hating on her anymore, sending glares that were clearly reserved for her dad, her way. she didn’t deserve that, even if her father seemed like the evil embodiment of everything he hated.

he could see she was nothing like that, he smiles only slightly and nods, “alright. friends? acquaintances?” he says with a small stick out of his hand towards her. she looks down at it, swallowing thickly, his hands painting images in her mind that weren’t exactly appropriate right now.

she nods, still smiling, “friends.” she says softly and reaches out to wrap her hand around his, shaking it. his size so clearly dwarfed hers. her heart swelled a little, her core pulsing.

they were both lying to themselves and so obviously aroused, it was only a matter of time before the tension snapped. and all hell would break loose.

the next week, she walks into the D.S.O training room and she’s nervous, nervous for what? she’s not even sure but she sees him sitting on the bench like he was last week when they agreed to be friends.

he sees her walk in, she notices something different in his gaze this time but she’s not sure what. he looks almost…hungry. like he could just devour her with one look. “hey, sorry i’m late…” she begins to apologize and he stops her with his words.

she drops her workout bag on the bench, “don’t worry about it. but i have something in mind that’s different today.” he says with a small glance over her legging and sports bra clad body.

he already felt half-hard, just looking over her body and her curves. how he could get over the hate, see her as something so attractive and so delicate was beyond his comprehension. all he knew was he had to have her now, he had been thinking about this all week.

she didn’t know what he meant, she did know that he looked at her in a way no one ever had before, something deep and unrecognizable to the untrained eye. “what did you have in mind?” she asks quietly as she looks over into his eyes, her body trying to find out what he had in store for her.

he got up off the bench and stepped towards her, looking down at her with his hungry blue eyes. “you’re attracted to me.” he just states, keeping her eyes pinned on his.

she blinked up at him and nervously laughed, “what are you talking about?” she tried to brush it off as she looks up at him, trying to fool him with a nervous smile. “are you…are you trying to mess with me leon? it’s not funny.” she releases a shaky breath again.

he chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down at her, finding her idea of trying to mask it adorable. he reaches up and tucks some of the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “no, i’m not messing with you. you need my guidance, you need to be taught a lesson. but i’m not doing it unless you want me to.” he says with conviction.

she shivers at his warm touch on her skin, simply innocent but making butterflies and arousal occur to her body. he wouldn’t do it…unless she wanted him too? what could he possibly be talking about? did he mean…?

“are-are you talking about…?” she breathes shakily as she looks up at him, her chest rising and falling fast as she does. “sex?” she whispers and it doesn’t even sound like she’s saying it. the words feel so alien coming out of her mouth.

he nods slowly, tracing his hand that was fixing her hair down to her chin. “if that’s what you want, yes. your attracted to me, i’m attracted to you and we don’t hate each other anymore.” he points these things out as a storm of emotions swirls around in her head.

he’s attracted to me? to me? the person he hated and glared at for as long as she knew him. she almost couldn’t believe it. but she got over it quickly, realizing that he was offering sex…with him to her so freely and openly.

“those are your only…reasons?” she whispers softly as she looks up into his eyes, blinking steadily as she tries to reconcile and decide within her brain what she wants to do.

“i have plenty of reasons. but those are the only ones you need to know right now. don’t believe me?” he says with a small look of intimidation in his eyes, because why would she believe him considering her history even though they were “friends” now.

she slowly shakes her head, he grabs her hand in a firm grasp like he did when he was showing her how to form a fist. he leads it down to the front of his pants, his half hard cock in his jeans resting underneath her hand. she swallows as she maintains contact with his pant clad erection.

“you see now? you understand? hmm?” he leans into her neck and whispers those words hotly against her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over; pebbling her skin. arousal finding its way uncomfortably more beneath her leggings.

she nods wordlessly, looking at him as he keeps his head by her neck, he chuckles lowly. “use your words, you know how to talk baby. i know you do.” she can feel his smirk against her skin as he says that.

“yes, i understand.” she says in a soft voice that sounds nothing like her own. she moves her hand from his erection in his pants to his chest, rubbing her hand over his t-shirt, feeling his muscles beneath it.

“good girl. now, i am going to fuck you.” he says in her ear, her hole pulsing at the praise around nothing. she doesn’t even have it in her to care anymore, she’s losing all sense of rational thought at his close proximity.

she hums, feeling his lips ghost over her neck as he dangerously presses a kiss to it her skin, nibbling at it. she finds herself making a small noise that’s trapped in the back of her throat.

she practically melts under his touch, grasping onto his t-shirt. “don’t worry baby. i’ll take care of you. tell me you want it. or should i find out on my own?” he says lowly in almost a predatory growl against her neck. she shivers at his words, only imagining what he could mean by that. “i want it. i want…i want you to fuck me.” she says in a slightly whiny voice.

it’s hard to believe that it’s even her, she feels nothing like herself pressed up against him, his lips nibbling and sucking at her neck, his hands ghosting her waist. she’s not in control anymore like she usually is and it feels nice to hand it over to him, especially like this.

he smirks into her neck again, pulling his lips away from her sweet pale skin. he chuckles lowly, “good. now,” he steps back and looks down at her, looking at her sports bra, “take that off.” she blinks up at him with dreary eyes, she follows his orders though.

not having it in her to say no at this point. she pulls the zipper that’s down the front of it, the material underneath a little sheer. he can see the outline of her hardened nipples barely underneath. she continues to take it off, unclipping it from the front and letting her breasts spill out of it.

goosebumps all along her bare upper half as she feels his lustful glare penetrating her chest. eyeing her breasts with hunger. she lets the useless sports bra slip onto the floor. the cold air kissing her skin.

he reaches out and massages her breasts, “mmm, imagined how they looked. gotta say, i’m not disappointed.” he says with a smirk, he guides her over to the bench, nudging her to lay down, her head resting on the bare wood as he straddles the bench. he grabs her legs lifting them up over his shoulders, each ankle resting on his shoulders.

“mmm,” he leans down and presses his mouth to her chest, taking each nipple into his mouth while massaging the other, tweaking the nipples in his hands. she writhes underneath him, making small noises, her thighs pressed up to her stomach as he leans over her and devours her chest.

she lets it slip once, only once and once it does she regrets it. everything just feels so good and his mouth working on her chest is enough for it to slip out in ecstasy. “daddy…” she moans softly.

her body freezes up a little, waiting for him to recoil, to push her away and make her put her sports bra back on. but instead he looks up from her chest, releasing one of her breasts with a small pop. his gaze even hungrier if that was even possible.

“you gonna let daddy fuck your pussy?” he says in a low rasp as he grasps at her chest again, massaging her breasts again that he had devoured. she doesn’t act shocked that he agreed to the name, she just nods mindlessly.

“good girl.” he says with a small chuckle, leaning back. he lets his hands slide down from her breasts to the hem of her leggings, pulling them down with fervor. he scoots back and pulls them off of her legs, throwing them on the floor by her discarded sports bra of the training room floor.

he gets up from the bench, popping the button on his pants and pulling them down his legs, kicking them off with his shoes, removing hers as well. she looks at his large erection that’s straining in his boxers, a small spot of precum on the top where the tip must be.

she swallows a small noise as she lays her head back down on the bench, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. he looks down at her body, “no underwear? did you know this would happen? or are you just being a naughty little girl?” he says with a mocking tone as he catches her trying to press her thighs together where she lays on the bench.

she looks up at him from where she lays against the bench, she shakes her head. “i’m not naughty. my underwear…they just get ruined too easily, daddy.” he tilts his head with a small smirk, “is that so? are you lying princess?” he says as he straddles the bench again, pulling her by her ankles close to his boxer clad erection.

she shakes her head feverishly as if she could lie to him, he leans over her, lightly smacking her cheek, “your just desperate for my dick baby? is that it? even being near me and your soaking.” he says with a small mocking laugh as she just gazes bleary eyed back at him.

the light tingle of his small smack against her cheek makes her body light up like an electric shock, her hole clenching around nothing. the degrading going deep to her core, everything that he’s saying is just making her painfully more aroused.

her core is practically aching for him at this point. she nods up at him, “yes, daddy.” she says with a small whimper, he smirks and shakes his head, looking down at her glistening pussy.

“mmm, yeah, pretty tits and a pretty pussy. your just a beautiful sight baby.” he says with a small hum. she feels herself whimper softly and become wetter at just his words of praising her body. “your practically leaking on the bench, but don’t worry. i won’t leave you waiting for long.” he says with a small smack to her pussy, making her back arch and release a strangled noise.

“dirty girl.” he says with malice, he gets up again, walking over to the training room door, locking it and making sure no one could even look in here. he then takes his shirt off and walks towards her again, “on all fours baby, do it for daddy.” he says with a small gesture of his hands.

she bites her lips and shakily gets up off of the bench and gets on all fours, he grabs her duffle and puts his t-shirt on it, moving so she can rest her head on it for stability. he crawls behind her on the bench, rubbing the flesh of her ass with his large hands.

“such a pretty ass too, baby. hmmm,” he says in fascination as he lightly skims his fingers over her asshole, making her keel forward a little into his bunched up shirt on her duffle bag. he grabs her hip with one hand, keeping her in place. “nuh-uh, no moving from daddy.” he says with a small groan. he lightly smacks her ass, making her moan softly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

he feels a grin slide onto his face, “you like that? of course you do. your a naughty little girl.” he says and adds another smack to her other cheek. she releases another muffled moan into his t-shirt again.

he chuckles slowly, licking his lips. he leans back and pulls his boxers down, releasing his cock. he sighs in relief, finally able to breathe a little bit. “i’ll give my baby what she wants, even if she’s a naughty little slut.” he says with another smack to her ass, she keels forward again, her stomach arching into the bench.

her hole kept pulsing around nothing again as he said that, going straight to her core. her body still practically aching at this point for his cock. he chuckles and grips his cock in one hand, moving it through her slick folds. he keeps one hand still placed firmly on her hip.

she whimpers into his t-shirt as she feels the head of his cock touch her clit, teasing her. “please, daddy.” her whimpers muffled into the fabric.

he smacks her ass lightly again with his free hand, “shush, princess. you’ll get daddy’s cock in a second. i just need to make sure your ready.” he says with a small chortle again, he rubs his hand soothingly over her lightly red ass cheeks.

he takes his time coating his cock in her arousal, making her squirm and make tiny noises each time he does. “mmm, i think your ready for daddy’s cock baby.” he says with a small smirk, rubbing her ass cheeks, with his firm hands, sliding one hand down to brush the tip of his cock against her wet entrance.

she moaned softly, “yes, daddy.” she managed to get out as he nudged his tip in her entrance. she let out a strangled noise as he stuck the tip in, her fists gripping at the bench.

“just the tip baby and your sucking me in.” he groans as he nudged his cock further into her pussy, stretching her out more. “daddy…” she moaned weakly as she felt some drool slide out of her mouth and onto his t-shirt that her cheek was smushed against.

“i know, i know…just a little more baby. you can take it.” he says with a strangled noise, gritting his teeth as he slides more into her pussy, his length all the way inside of her at this point to the hilt.

“uhh, d-daddy…” she feels her body go slack a little at the fullness of his cock inside of her from behind. she finds it hard to focus on anything else right now, the feeling of his cock inside of her was so delicious and distracting.

“keep moaning for your daddy, wanna hear you princess.” he says with a small groan as he feels her pussy flutter around his cock, he reaches down and grabs at her hair, a fistful of it in his hands as he starts rocking his hips slowly against her, his hips slapping against her ass as he does.

she feels her eyes roll back and flutter shut a little, practically drooling as he yanks her hair up and causing her head to look straight ahead. she moans softly again, adjusting to his length. his hips move a little faster as he keeps her hair in a tight fist.

“so fucking tight, jesus.” he grunts as he keeps moving in and out of her. she moans daddy again at each thrust of his hips. she feels so fucking full and it almost feels like her skin is on fire in the best way possible.

he keeps fucking her, his hips moving faster as he keeps one hand on her hip to guide her hips back in as he thrusts, his other hand tugging at her hair as she moans and whines. “fuck…daddy…mmm, i’m close…” she manages to get out as he keeps thrusting into her, hitting that spot inside of her that made her vision go blurry.

he keeps making small grunts and noises of pleasure, “let go baby, i’ve got you. cum all over daddy’s cock.” she keeps releasing noises at every slap of his hips against her ass. she has his permission and she cums on his cock with a few more thrusts and hitting her sweet spot inside of her.

seeing stars dance in her vision, her body dropping back to his t-shirt, her thighs shaking as she releases and clenches around his cock. he releases her hair, the other hand holding onto her hips, a low groan escaping him as he feels her cum all over his cock.

the feeling of her squeezing around him is addicting and he knows he won’t last much longer. he fucks her through it and chases his own orgasm.

she bites her lips as small tears leak out of her eyes at the overstimulation that he gives her from his cock still moving in and out of her. “shh, it’s okay…baby, i’m close…gonna cum inside your pussy…” he manages to get out in between strangled noises, his hair dampening with sweat slightly.

she cries in a small whine of pleasure as he finally releases inside of her with just a few more thrusts, her pussy milking his cum so he doesn’t spill a drop out of her. she feels her body go slack as she comes down from it all, her chest rising and falling against the bench where she stays bent over.

he rubs a small reassuring hand over the curve of her ass, “you okay? i didn’t hurt you did i?” he says with a small hint of clarity as he slightly pulls out of her. she shakes her head into the fabric of his balled up t-shirt.

“here, here.” he grabs his boxers, climbing off of the bench and pulling them over his legs, he sits down on the bench. “put on the t-shirt, then cmere.” he says in a gentle but firm tone. she shakily moves her limbs and grabs his t-shirt from where it was crumpled up on top of her duffle.

he grabs his sweat rag from his own gym bag, patting his thighs for her to sit on. she adjusts his shirt over her body and moves to sit in his lap, burying her head into his neck and holding onto his bare chest with weak fists. he cleans up the inside of her thighs, over her sensitive folds.

she shivers and tries to move away from it, “shh, it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m just cleaning you up.” he whispers into her hair, pressing a gentle kiss there. she nods slowly, her eyes fluttering shut and relaxing into his lap, he pulls the rag away and puts it in his duffle next to him on the bench.

“was that good?” he says into her hair, looking down at her face with a small crane of his neck. “yeah, it was good.” she smiles softly as she tilts her head up and opens her eyes lazily. he smiles and rubs a hand over her back in a soothing gesture, feeling his heart bloom into a cathartic way he hasn’t felt in years.

“how about i take you out for dinner sometime? hmm? properly treat you.” he says with small squeeze of her hip, she smiles up at him, nodding. “i’d love that.” she says with a small sigh of content.

she held him as he held her in the aftermath of their love making and deep down they both knew that this was the beginning of something new for the both of them. something real, something exciting and full of love.

they couldn’t wait for what the future held in store for them.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #re2 remake #re4 remake #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy drabble #re6 leon x reader #resident evil #re4 leon x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

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richeeduvie · 6 months ago

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Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused

DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall

So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!

BABY

Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!

Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.

Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.

So, facts about the dead dad:

Maybe was a veteran

Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder

Died when she was eight

Possibly kept her away from her mother

Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.

Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.

They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.

Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:

Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession

The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.

As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.

and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?

The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.

Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.

And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.

Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.

But enough of that!

OG!DOGANDBONE!AU

After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby

FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant

BABY JR

Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.

JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:

Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses

VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU

They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:

If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?

Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.

Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?

If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.

LOGANWINS!AU

Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.

Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.

FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument

You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.

Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.

AFFAIR!AU

There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.

She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.

FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed

GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)

So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.

(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)

Tern Haven:

Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)

Ken's Groomer Era:

Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....

The Aftermath:

Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit

There's more, of course. There's always more.

KENDALLWINS!AU

After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!

FICS TO HELP:

Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery

THE OD FICS:

No Time Needled Memories

NOW....

SHIV'S AU

Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.

Calling Shiv Shiv

TOM'S AU

Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.

KARL'S AU

No.

STEWY'S AU

I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

I hope this helps! xoxo

#inbox #hc's #drabble #dog and bone!au #roman roy x reader #succession fanfiction

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iraprince · 1 year ago

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I love the entire concept of Cookie... the look, the fashion, the gender... Would you mind telling us a little more about him? I'm also intrigued about why she's named Cooking with Gorgeous!

HI i would LOVE to talk about george thank you so much. also this makes me realize i've never actually sat down and just made a post unabashedly infodumping at length abt an oc before and it seems silly that i haven't. i ask only for all dear readers to please temper their expectations for this post with the knowledge that i just smoked half a joint before sitting down to answer it. a small one. but still. anyway

FIRST OF ALL FOR THE UNACQUAINTED THIS IS COOKING WITH GORGEOUS, aka cookie or george for short. he uses he/him and she/her pronouns interchangeably!

hi sorry that's not cookie that's a horse in a bridal veil that i. found in my stuff while trying to scroll and find my cookie art. i just got distracted and had to show you. okay no for real here's cookie

he's the character i'm playing in a playtest campaign of the absolutely mesmerizing sapphicworld, an in-development ttrpg!!! and if i'm going to be talking about cookie i feel like i HAVE to say i think a huge amount of her charm and dazzle and charisma comes directly from the charm and dazzle and charisma of the setting i created her for. i know i am laying it on really thick right now but that is on purpose. i want, desperately and unashamedly, for this game to get really popular bc 1. it's genuinely that good. and it's not even DONE yet and 2. i want everyone to get into it so that everyone will make sapphicworld characters and then i'll get to see everyone's sapphicworld characters.

EDIT i'm scrolling back up here and adding a readmore bc this is already getting so long lol. you asked for "a little more" and apparently i have graciously decided this means "literally every fact about cookie that exists in my brain"

SO a lot of the info/tidbits i haven't shared about cookie are i guess gameplay-specific stuff... his title (which is like a class/playbook) is "The Noble Sweetheart," though in sapphicworld "nobility" no longer has anything to do with wealth or class, and is instead entirely about amassing a court purely via devotion/popularity; her subculture (which is like, Who You Hang Out With; drifters, goths, poets, debauchers, cowpokes, etc) is Babe; and her kind (which is like ancestries but in sapphicworld is really just like, a physical form, which u can change more or less at will) is Lunarthrope, which is basically a werewolf!! or more broadly a furry, since u always look like whatever were-animal you are 24/7. just MORE at night, tho i suppose i don't represent that aspect much in my cookie art... ANYWAY i am restraining myself from just sitting here and like. transcribing her entire character sheet. but basically what all this means is that cookie's role in the world (at least at the beginning of the campaign) is "Professionally — no, VOCATIONALLY Hot Person who everyone loves so so so so so so much." cookie really enjoys this role.

he's named cooking with gorgeous because he's an avid cook, and he wants to share that with you, and he's gorgeous!! though honestly the cooking hasn't ended up as important to his character as it was when i first came up with him, lol — but my initial concept was kind of like, what's the equivalent of a bouncy normie recipe blogger/lifestyle influencer but in the context of the lush horny trans deathless psychedelic universe of sapphicworld. and it's cooking with gorgeous, a doggirl dyke with big blue boobs (six of them!!) who is so devastatingly cute and darling that a bunch of people just kind of pledge their fealty to him for no real reason other than he feeds them. and is cute

also her name is def influenced by the fantastic names of many canon sapphicworld npcs! like, quick example list of some npc names off the top of my head: the booty commie, death cybernetic, princess eureka!, the culinary goof (whom cookie dislikes. btw.), pizza friday (whom cookie loves!!!)

cookie is very very determined, and she's ALMOST always very confident. even when she isn't feeling confident, she's still very good at forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other — maybe just while screaming or crying or uncontrollably barking or at least very ardently complaining. he has a tendency to be spoiled and, like, tactless-via-obliviousness, so sometimes he can be grating to interact with, and he has a petty/vindictive streak; but in general he's an AGGRESSIVELY kind person and usually aims all his shrill, cheerful stubbornness directly toward the goal of refusing to accept anything but the best for everyone.

at the beginning of our campaign cookie has JUST received a brand new castle!!!! (chateau gorgeous.) which he doesn't actually "own" bc, remember, no wealth or class in sapphicworld, but he's the ENTHUSIASTIC new caretaker and is chomping at the bit to renovate it so ppl can live there and he can throw a bunch of magnificent parties and basically continue living exactly as he has been, But Even More Fabulous. obviously this is exactly when the main plot threat of the campaign shows up and spoils everything and compels cookie to go on his First Ever Adventure!!!!!! she HAS to save the world otherwise NOBODY will be able to go to the first big party at chateau gorgeous :((((

at this point to prevent myself from just like, giving you guys a play by play of the entire campaign so far i am going to just start listing every cookie fact i can think of as bullet points

🎀 he owns a magical sword in the shape of a giant microplane. it's called The Microplane. he pronounces this "mee-crow-plah-nay"

🎀 george desperately wants to resurrect The Dog-Lich, an entity that once ruled over all beasts from its palace on the moon but was murdered and torn to pieces in a cosmic war far in the past. her attitude towards this desire is 50% devoted lunar cultist, 50% parasocially obsessive twitter stan

🎀 this isn't really a cookie fact but going back to how his title is The Noble Sweetheart — just for a glimpse at party composition, his fellow party members' titles are The Intimate Scholar, The Tentacle Advocate, and The Tw*nk Controversial (the * is the canon spelling).

^ aforementioned tw*nk. its name is Mwah ("pronounced like the kiss you blow at someone you just fucked over"). mwah is played by @/squiddelyfather on twitter!

🎀 mwah and cookie used to be very, very tight, BEFORE mwah became the tw*nk controversial. now that it's so.... you know.... controversial, well. they're still very close, but it has gotten a little stilted and weird (and watching them slowly un-weird it together as the campaign goes on has been one of my fav roleplay experiences ever honestly)

🎀 cookie's other adventuremates, skarligge and delaryn, are both very indulgent towards him. delaryn acts the most grumpy/dismissive about it but is honestly sometimes the worst about spoiling cookie out of anyone in the party (skarligge's player is twt@/clown_dream and delaryn's is twt@/glaiveguisarme and hey while im at it our fantastic gm is the sapphicworld dev, twt@/ddemoneclipse. hi guys i hope u don't mind me chattering abt ur ocs here lol it's just hard to talk abt the best of cookie w/o bringing up everyone else's characters and roleplay also!!!)

🎀 cookie is very VERY sensitive and will burst into tears at the drop of a hat. the precursor to this is her eyes getting So So So Big And Wet And Round. one of my favorite bits to menace the other party members with is when something is not going cookie's way i will lean into my mic and say "cookie's eyes are getting so so so big. they're getting so big and wet and round and shiny. they're so so round and fucking big her eyes are like big wet black glass marbles" and this is like kryptonite to them. this is like getting hit with deadly radiation

🎀 oh speaking of fashion!!!! one of cookie's perks from being a Babe is that she can always change her look whenever she wants. she will ALWAYS have whatever outfit she needs and can quickchange instantly. wait this reminds me i have a bunch of seasonal holiday outfits sketched out and i don't think i've ever posted them here but it'll only let me put one more image in this post. well here have this one

🎀 okay well suddenly i have forgotten all other george facts so that's all for now!!! from now on i will try to just dump oc facts like this more often tho this is really fun. ty for getting me going lol!!!

#my ocs #my art #cooking with gorgeous #sapphicworld

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daechwitatamic · 2 years ago

Text

Sit. Stay. || KSJ

(banner by @kth1)

Title: Sit. Stay. WC: 14k one-shot Genre: fluff, s2l, neighbors!au, baby angst for a quick minute?, smut

Summary: Your new puppy, Zinnia, has turned your world on its head. She’s ruined everything from your sleep schedule to your favorite shoes, and you know it’s your own failure to train her properly. When your cute upstairs neighbor tells you about a local obedience academy, he slowly starts to make himself a place in your schedule, your life, and your heart. After your last relationship went up in flames, will his affections be something else you can count as a failure?

Rating: NSFW - Minors DNI, i mean it

Warnings: language, casual drinking, a parent is having heart problems and seeing doctors for it, miscommunication sort of, immaturity lol, kissing, mentions of surgery/doctors/hospitals - but everyone is okay!, an argument, protected penetrative sex, doggy style (i mean how could i NOT), fingering, a nanosecond of nip stim

A/N: Written for the Paw Prints Academy Collab hosted by @kth1fics! Typo-check by @oddinary4bts - thank you, Ella!!!

You’re asleep, dreaming something plotless - your grandmother, long deceased, is there. It doesn't feel sad - it feels peaceful. It feels like, oh, it’s nice to see you again.

And it’s ruined, too early, by a long, high-pitched, inhuman cry. You startle awake, heart pounding as your brain scrambles to make sense of the sound. The whine - it’s a whine despite the loudness of it - dies down and is followed by a series of yips and sharp barks. Every noise seems to pierce straight through your skull.

You haven’t slept through a night in four days.

“Zinnia,” you beg, pushing the comforter off your body and making your way blindly across the unlit bedroom, “you have got to chill. You are not dying.”

Zinnia, an eleven-week old chocolate labrador, yaps even louder once she hears your voice.

You’re reinforcing bad behavior by getting up, a voice in your head reminds you.

You know it’s true, but what’s the alternative? Let Zinnia wake up every apartment on the whole floor?

You open the bedroom door, and Zinnie bounces with excitement in her crate, her tail flapping against the wall of it with a rhythmic thwap-ap-thwap-ap.

You sigh. She’s so dang cute, you can’t even be pissed that it’s two in the morning. “Hi, silly girl,” you say, resigned. She rolls herself in a full circle, going belly up and then back to her feet in less than a second.

You unlock the crate and watch absently as she catapults around your feet, races into the kitchen, slides across the linoleum and crashes sideways into a wooden cabinet door, and then dashes - unphased - back towards you, barreling into your shins.

You sigh again and head back to your bedroom for a hoodie and some shoes. Miss Zinnie needs to run, apparently.

You hook up her leash and grab your keys, patting your pocket to make sure your phone is in there before heading to the hallway. Zinnia zips left and right, tripping you more than once on the way to the elevators.

You take the elevators up instead of down. There are a lot of perks to your high-end apartment building - covered parking, a pool, a 24-hour gym - but the best is by far the dog run, outside on the twelfth floor. You’ve used it approximately sixty times in the days since you brought Zinnia home.

You realize as you push open the glass doors to the rooftop space that you forgot poop bags.

“Zinnia,” you say seriously, “I need you to promise not to poop. Got it?”

Zinnie gags once as she pulls too hard on the leash. You rub a hand over her face and reach down to pick her up, opting to carry her hyper ass the rest of the way to the dog run. You hold the door on your way back in for a tall guy with a baseball cap tugged low over his brow, leading a fluffy, blue-eyed dog back into the building. He nods in thanks and hurries past you. You have to step inside for a second to let him by, his shoulders take up so much of the doorway despite his slender frame.

“His dog isn’t choking itself on the leash,” you point out to Zinnia sourly. You make your way over to the dog run and make sure to latch the gate before setting Zinnia back on the ground and unclipping her.

“Go, you absolute menace,” you tell her. “Go run until you’re tired. Please, for the love of god, run until you’re tired.”

–

You’ve always gotten a mid-afternoon energy slump; Zinnia’s nighttime shenanigans haven’t helped that at all. You’re bent over your desk, trying to inhale the caffeine from your two pm coffee, when your phone pings on your desk.

Your heart sinks when you see the name of the college kid who’s supposed to watch Zinnia on weekday afternoons.

“Please just be a cute picture,” you mutter as you unlock your screen. No such luck. The text informs you that, in your absence, Zinnia chewed through a pair of shoes you’d been stupid enough to leave out.

There is an attached picture.

It is not cute.

–

You get home earlier than normal somehow, letting yourself into the apartment and kicking off your shoes. You immediately pick them back up, cradling them against your chest like they need to be protected.

They kind of do. Zinnia hears you and blasts straight at you, running circles around your legs, tail flopping side to side so hard her whole butt wiggles.

“Hello, silly beast,” you say affectionately, though truth be told you’re still mourning those chucks she’d ruined.

Ry, Zinnia’s college pal, gathers her belongings and tells you goodbye. Alone with your shoe-destroyer, you sigh and head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Abandoned in the living room, Zinnia begins to sing the song of her people.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Please, can you let me pee and change clothes? It is okay to be alone for five seconds!”

You ignore her complaints as you do just that, emerging in joggers and a hoodie, and sneakers that aren’t your chucks, since those live in the garbage can now.

You’d been planning on taking Zinnia on a walk walk, but there are some pretty ominous clouds out there. You pull your phone from your pocket and check the hourly - 80% chance that it’s already raining.

A quick trip to the dog run will have to be better than nothing.

You two head to the elevator, and you push the button for the twelfth floor, the ring around the button lighting up red.

The elevator slows to a stop on the eighth floor. The doors open and you spot the dog you’d passed last night, the one with the pretty blue eyes. You raise your eyes to look at its owner, the guy with shoulders the width of the moon.

He’s got a cap on again, but you can see his face today. He lights up when he sees you, stepping inside to let the doors close behind him. He glances at the button panel to make sure his choice is selected - he must be heading to twelve as well.

“We met you last night,” he says slyly, smiling at you. You’re unable to answer for a second; he’s so good-looking you think he must model or something. He’s got a strong brow, beautiful dark eyes, and lips that should be a museum, carved from marble.

“I think we did,” you agree, feeling suddenly shy, completely unqualified to speak to this absolute god.

“We did,” he says confidently. “I’d remember a face that cute anywhere.”

You feel yourself flush, suddenly so warm that you want to strip off your hoodie and maybe your shoes too, just to cool down. Then you realize that he’s looking down at Zinnia, whose tail is wagging so ferociously that she’s almost toppling over as she sniffs noses with the stranger’s dog.

“Is she okay?” you ask suddenly. “Do I need to –?”

“It’s fine,” he says easily, flapping a hand at you. “Blue’s very maternal. She knows a baby when she sees one.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing a little in relief. Being a Bad Dog Owner is bad enough, you’d hate to make a mistake with someone else’s dog in the equation.

The elevator doors open on the twelfth floor, and the guy holds out a hand, beckoning you to go first. You try to exit, but Zinnia is so obsessed with the guy’s dog - Blue - that she won’t budge.

“Good god,” you grumble, reaching down to lift her, stalking out of the elevator with only a scrap of your dignity. You’re pretty sure you hear the guy snicker as he follows you towards the doors to outside.

There’s an elderly lady and a corgi in the dog run, and you and the guy from the eighth floor hurry through the gate and latch it quickly.

Zinnia takes off sprinting the second you unclip her. Blue trots over to the corgi first.

“So,” you say. “You have a dog that listens.”

The grin he shoots you is amused. “I’ve had Blue for almost eight years. You have a baby. A lot of her behavior right now - the energy, chewing on everything she finds - she’ll grow out of.”

“That’s a relief,” you say, thinking of the ruined chair legs under your kitchen table. You’d had that kitchen set for a decade and Zinnia left it covered in teeth-marks within the seven minutes it took you to switch laundry loads.

He shrugs. “Some of it has to be trained out, though,” he warns you.

“Damn,” you sigh. A raindrop hits the back of your hand; instinctively, you raise your eyes to the clouds. Beside you, the guy does the same. On the other end of the dog run, the older lady calls her corgi over and clips its leash, ready to head in.

“You better pee fast, you monster,” you tell Zinnia, who doesn’t hear you and wouldn’t care even if she did.

The guy laughs quietly under his breath, then whistles once. Blue stops sniffing the ground and trots over immediately. Either his competence is really sexy, or you’re biased by his face.

“I’m Seokjin, by the way,” he says, looking up at you as he bends over to clip the leash back on. “Most people just call me Jin. This is Blue.”

As the rain starts to patter more strongly, you tell him your name, and then point at your bonkers puppy, who is currently trying to wedge herself under the metal beam below a bench. “That absolute disaster is Zinnia.”

He smiles and repeats it. “We’ll see you around,” he says, heading back in towards the building, leaving you and your puppy in a suddenly steady rain.

–

You stagger like a zombie to the elevators in the morning, hands clasped around a travel mug full of hot tea. Inside, you lean heavily against the wall, willing your eyes to stay open as you descend.

You’ve made it down two floors before you even register that another human is in there with you. One more before you register that you know that human.

“There she is,” he says brightly, when he sees that you’ve clocked him, finally. “Good morning!”

“Sorry,” you say, smiling ruefully. “I’m exhausted.”

He nods understandingly. “New puppies will do that,” he says, still cheerful. “Are you crate-training her at night?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. “It’s not going great.”

He seems like he’s going to answer, but the elevator stops on floor three and four more people shuffle in between you. When you’re released into the lobby, he nods goodbye from the opposite side of the small crowd as you make your way through the front doors.

–

You barely make it through the work-day without taking an illegal nap at your desk, but somehow you do. When you get home, Ry slipping out your front door the second she hears you, you want nothing more than to collapse on the couch and close your eyes.

Instead, you leash up Zinnia - without even changing clothes first - and head up to the dog run. You figure if she handles her business now, it might buy you a few hours of couch time.

You also wonder if the guy - Jin - is usually out there right around now. He was yesterday, after all. Maybe that’s his normal schedule.

He’s out there before you, this time. Your hunch was right. You unclip Zinnia and lean back against the fence, hoping you don’t fall asleep on your feet like this.

Jin sidles up beside you and you can’t deny the warm, pleased feeling that rises up in you.

“Tough day at work?” he asks.

You can’t fight the smile off your face - you don’t even try. “Normal,” you say. “Yours?”

He shrugs. “Normal.”

You wait a beat, two beats. Jin leans comfortably next to you, his eyes watching Blue as she runs happily alongside someone’s doberman.

“What do you do?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

He gives you a sideways look that you can’t decipher. “You’ll be disappointed,” he says, sort of like a warning.

This surprises you. “Disappointed? Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s pretty boring.”

Your smile turns a little knowing. “And you don’t like looking boring?”

His mouth twists to the side. “I don’t like feeling boring. But anyway - I’m a salesman. I work at a sporting goods store. I do consultations for certain equipment, but most of the time I’m just trying to make commission.”

I think with that smile you could probably sell me a used tissue, you think unhelpfully.

“That’s more exciting than mine,” you tell him, hoping it cheers him up. “I spend all eight hours behind a desk.”

He grimaces. “Do you hate it?” he asks.

No one’s ever framed the question like that before. You ponder this as, across the dog run, Zinnia happily harasses a pair of doodle-mixes.

“I don’t hate it,” you say slowly, weighing the truth of the words. “It’s just… monotonous, sometimes.”

“So you got a puppy to break up the monotony,” he guesses.

Now it’s your turn to grimace. “I got a puppy because my boyfriend moved out.”

He turns to look at you sharply, expression stricken. “I’m sorry - I didn’t -.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I kicked him out. Caught him - well - it doesn’t matter. The point is I wasn’t sad to see him go. And I’d been trying for a long time to talk him into getting a dog, so. I gave myself a few months to get back on my feet and then I got myself a damn dog.”

And now she’s eating everything I own, you don’t add.

“Sorry you went through that,” Jin says seriously. You wave him off.

“It’s ancient history,” you tell him. “Besides, I’d trade him for Zinnie any day. Even when she pees inside.”

He laughs at this.

You stand chatting for a while - long enough for the doodle-mixes to get taken inside, and for a whole herd of dachshunds to come, chase circles around Zinnia for thirty minutes, and leave again, shepherded out by a middle-aged man. Long enough to learn that Jin went to college in the city, has an advanced degree in Business Management that he’s never used, adopted Blue when he was twenty-one. Long enough to learn that his parents live on the coast, that he can do most board-centered sports well, that he likes food and video games more than he likes most people. Long enough for him to learn your answers to the same questions.

“I should probably take her in,” he says finally, as dusk settles around you. “We both need dinner.”

“Sure,” you say. “I should, too. Zinnie! Zin! Zinnia, come!”

Jin snorts as Zinnia happily ignores you.

–

Your Friday is off to a bad start. Not only did Zinnie scream through the night, until you caved and let her out of the crate and spent the rest of the night on the couch so she wouldn’t feel lonely, but you break a heel on your way out the door.

The sudden break sends you sprawling onto your carpeted entryway floor. Your thermos of tea rolls away - thankfully sealed tight - but you feel your tights tear on your knee where you land. And your face ends up almost under a kitchen chair, eye to eye with a delightful little gift that Zinnia must have left you sometime while you were trying to get dressed.

You pushed yourself to your feet, eye your ripped tights and then the clock, and burst into tears on the spot. “Zinnia!” you wail. “I do not have time to go change! And I definitely do not have time to scrub the carpet right now!”

You do both, shooting the puppy death-stares as you scoot out of the apartment twenty minutes late with a blotchy face. You’d better not meet Seokjin in the elevators today, like this.

Luckily you don’t - but that’s about the last good thing you can say about the rest of your day. You get a nasty email from your boss for arriving late, you realize once you get to your office that you’d left your thermos of tea back on your kitchen table after you’d tripped, and Ry texts you to say she’s got a flu and she can’t take Zinnia out to pee after lunch the way she usually does.

You can’t leave early to handle it; you’re already in hot water for being late. You have to accept the fact that you’ll be going home to a mess - Zinnia can’t be expected to hold it that long, and it’s your fault, not hers. You just hope that, without someone there to play with her, her tiny, baby bladder is the only mess you’ll find, and not more ruined furniture.

It sucks, and you feel horrible - hoping she doesn’t cry and bark all afternoon, alone - but there’s nothing you can do about it.

When you get home, it’s about what you expected. You spray the carpet, hurry to change clothes, then come out to scrub where the spray had been sitting. You clean this up, and then the shreds of paper towel from the paper towel roll that Zinnia somehow got from the kitchen table, and face the puppy, utterly exhausted and at wit’s end. Somehow, you find yourself wanting to cry again.

“Maybe,” you tell her, as she looks up at you expectantly, “I am just not meant to be a dog parent. Maybe you need someone who knows what they’re doing. Or works from home. Or has a roommate to help. Something. Something that isn’t this.”

Oblivious to your emotional spiral, oblivious that you’re questioning your place in her life, Zinnia lays down and yawns, pink tongue curling and paws stretching as far as they can reach.

You skip the dog run. You think she probably needs an actual walk since Ry didn’t play with her this afternoon, and you don’t think you can face Seokjin in your current mood. He’ll either be friendly or sympathetic, and you can’t handle either of those with grace right now.

You strap Zinnia into an actual harness, not trusting her on just a clip-leash off the apartment property, and head towards the river. You detour through the park on your way, hoping the fresh air, exercise, and sunshine will work their magic.

They don’t. You fight back tears all the way to the riverside, Zinnia trotting along at times, pulling the leash towards passersby and random garbage at others.

Near the river, you spot a restaurant with outdoor seating. A few tables have brought their dogs; they lay on the pavement next to their humans’ tables happily, causing no fuss.

“What do you think?” you ask Zinnia wryly. “Can you be good long enough for one drink?”

You don’t give her the choice, getting yourself a table and tying her leash securely to your chair. One drink turns into two, then somehow you’re working on a third, your chin resting in your hand, a little stormcloud brewing above your head.

You’re startled when a body drops into the chair across from yours. You reach for Zinnia’s leash, alarmed, and then you realize it’s only Jin.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, at the same time that he says, “You look miserable.”

You stare at each other, not sure who should address what first.

“I was on my way home,” he explains. “The subway stop here isn’t that far from our place, so I’ll take it sometimes when the weather’s nice.”

You nod, accepting this. Then you decide to address what he’d said. “I am miserable,” you admit. “I am the worst dog owner on the planet. Come see me in five years, I will have one hellion of a dog, and exactly zero unruined square inches of apartment.”

Jin looks at you with an expression that’s both amused at your hyperbole and a bit sympathetic. You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it isn’t this - he leans forward, brows furrowing seriously, and asks you, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” you say, somewhat desperately. “I will take any suggestions.”

He sits back, the intensity leaving his face. “I have a few friends who work at this place in town? It’s called Paw Prints Academy.”

You chuckle. “Is it for bad dogs?”

He flashes you a smile. “Their secret, unofficial motto is there are no bad dogs, only bad owners.”

“Sounds like the place for me,” you admit.

“They’ve got it all - obedience classes, experts to run your questions by, groomers, boarding, day care.”

“It sounds great,” you say. “I obviously need some expert help. I’m a disaster.”

“I’ll send you their website,” Jin promises, and then pauses, his hand halfway to his phone. He seems, suddenly, less sure. The tips of his ears are suddenly red. “I… that is… if you’re okay with giving me your number?”

You hide your smile behind a hand. “Sure,” you say, trying to bite back the grin. “You can have my number.”

“For puppy purposes,” he clarifies with a cheeky smile. As if you both know that’s a lie.

“For puppy purposes,” you reassure him, feeling your little stormcloud start to dissipate.

–

Seokjin doesn’t abuse having your number. He sends you the website to Paw Prints Academy, and adds, “my friend’s name is jimin, tell him you know me” and then you don’t hear from him again. You call the academy and get Zinnia registered for obedience courses. You also sign yourself up for a seminar called New Puppy 101.

Slowly, things actually start looking up. It happens in a trickle, so gradually it’s barely noticeable. You don’t notice - until the first morning your alarm goes off and you realize with a jolt of terror that Zinnia hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night, even once.

But when you trip over your own feet in a panic, throwing open your bedroom door, terrified of what you’ll find… you find Zinnia lying peacefully on her side in her crate. She begins to thump her tail happily when she sees you, and you nearly sag with relief.

Things improve for you at work, too; it’s almost like getting a full night’s sleep makes you more productive or something.

You go a full five days without scrubbing your carpet or throwing away any shoes.

And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that you meet Seokjin and Blue up in the dog run nearly every evening after work.

It’s during one of these unscheduled, yet oddly routine instances that Jin points out Zinnia’s progress.

You’re leaning against the fence together, watching absently as the dogs run around, as you have almost every day lately. Sure, you take Zinnia up as soon as you get home from work for her sake. But the coincidence that Jin is usually there around the same time doesn’t hurt.

“She seems way better,” he observes, turning his head to watch Zinnia zip by. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten, too.”

“I know, right?” you explode, responding to both observations at once. But you can’t help it - you’re proud. “Watch this! Zinnia! Zinnie!”

And Zinnia, your wild baby, stops running and turns to look at you eagerly, waiting.

“Sit!” you call.

And Zinnia sits.

Seokjin whistles low, appreciative.

“Jimin’s a miracle worker,” he says. “I’m glad you called them.”

“Me too,” you admit. “Did I ever thank you for sending me their info? Because, seriously, I think you saved my life.”

Jin laughs, full and deep.

It scares you how much you like the feeling of making him laugh. It makes you want to sprint out of there, with or without Zinnia, hopping the fence if you have to.

–

The next afternoon, you get home and get ready to head up to the dog run. It’s a beautiful day, but you barely notice as you rotely go through the motions - change shoes, clip Zinnia’s leash, grab your keys from the countertop, head for the elevator. You keep your phone in your hand, hoping for a vibration, terrified of the vibration.

The dog run is empty when you get there; normally you’d be a little bummed that Jin isn’t there with Blue as he is almost every weekday evening, but today you’re relieved that you don’t have to try to carry a conversation. You unclip Zinnia, who darts away, and give a heavy sigh, leaning heavily against the fence, your phone still between your white-knuckled fingers.

Your relief is short-lived, because the building door opens less than two minutes later and Blue leads Jin out into the sunshine.

He smiles when he sees you, loping over and taking his now-familiar spot next to you as Blue sniffs the ground next to the metal bench to your left.

He’s chattering at you, and you think you’re answering, but it all kind of flows around you. After a few minutes of this, he pauses mid-sentence, brows furrowing.

“Hey,” he says kind of softly - there’s a definite change in his tone, which is honestly the thing that grabs your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer on instinct. “All good.”

There’s something sharp in his sideways glance. “You sure? You seem distracted.”

You wave the hand holding your phone a little, nodding your head toward it. “My dad’s at a cardiologist appointment right now. I’m waiting to hear if everything is fine… or if everything is not fine, in which case I probably need to go pack a bag and look up train times…” You trail off. Seokjin is listening intently, his face serious. You feel a flush of embarrassment anyway. “Sorry. I shouldn’t unload on you. We’re practically strangers.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens with his frown.

“Well, now my feelings are hurt,” he complains.

You blink back at him, surprised. This was not the response you were expecting.

“I thought we were friends,” he continues, an exaggerated pout creeping into his tone and onto his features. “I don’t keep a steady schedule at the complex’s dog run for just anybody, you know.”

Your heart trips over its own feet and faceplants in the dirt. You feel your eyes go wide as he puts words to something you’d suspected but had been afraid to assume - that you’d both been coming here at the same time on purpose. Not just you, but him too.

The playfulness melts away with the fake pout, and he’s back to looking at you seriously. “Have you had dinner?” he asks. There’s something gentle about the way he says the words; you feel something warm drop to your toes, intoxicating. “Let me cook for you.”

“You cook?” you blurt.

He smiles warmly, a touch of amusement in it. Like he’s thinking, but is too polite to say, how much you don’t know about him. It’s definitely what you’re thinking.

“Come on,” he says, heading around you towards the gate, giving your elbow a gentle touch on his way by. “I’ll make you something good.”

–

Jin’s apartment is cleaner than you’d expected, to be honest. He sets you up at his breakfast bar with a generously poured glass of red wine and gets to work in the kitchen.

“Is Zinnie okay?” you ask him, looking over your shoulder anxiously as Zinnia sniffs his couch frantically, like the fabric is holding every secret the universe could ever hold. “She tends to… chew. It’s been better since we started classes with Jimin, but nobody’s perfect.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jin says, waving a hand at you. “Blue did her share of damage to my stuff when she was a baby.”

You watch him in comfortable silence as he dices vegetables, a pot of water heating on the stovetop. Maybe it’s the wine talking, but it’s lowkey pretty sexy how he works a kitchen knife. It’s almost enough to distract you from the churning pit of anxiety in your stomach as you tap your fingers absently on your darkened phone screen.

“So it’s been going well with Jimin, huh?” Jin asks over his shoulder, and you tear your gaze away from your phone and try to catch up to the conversation.

“Oh,” you say, once you’ve processed. “Really well, actually. I think he’s a dog genius.”

Jin laughs at this, lifting the cutting board to slide what he’s chopped into the pot of water. Then he comes over to his side of the breakfast bar and picks up the other glass of red wine, still untouched.

“He’s good at his job,” Jin agrees. “I don’t know about genius. Did you know he’s secretly a cat person?”

This makes you giggle a little, your eyes falling back to your screen. Again, Jin tries to pull you back.

“Is she following any other commands now?” He eyes you over the top of his wine glass as he takes a long drink from it.

You smile a little, well aware that he’s distracting you on purpose, well aware that you aren’t sure you deserve this level of care from him.

But apparently you’re friends.

“She’s pretty good about here, and sit,” you say. “Not so good with stay. It’s a work in progress.”

Jin grins at this, something sparkling in his eyes.

“She’s sleeping in her crate at night, too,” you add.

“Wow,” Jin says, eyebrows raising. “That must be nice.”

“I don’t know how I was surviving before,” you tell him seriously, and he laughs again as he turns back to the stove to handle something.

You chat like this, in starts and stops, until the meal is done. Jin slides a steaming bowl before you and sets up a few sides before coming to take the seat to your right. Zinnia appears underfoot, nose sniffing wildly.

“I agree,” you tell her seriously. “It smells amazing. Who taught you to cook?”

His smile softens, going a little sideways. “My grandfather, actually. Weird, right? He was widowed when my dad and my aunts and uncles were all pretty little, so he had to learn, had to feed all those kids.”

“That’s not weird at all,” you tell him. “It’s actually kind of beautiful.”

Emboldened, Jin continues, the fond smile remaining on his face. “He’s a brilliant cook - we’ve told him forever he should have a cooking channel.”

You laugh a little. “People would probably be into that. Especially if you were the assistant.”

This comes out of your mouth without you realizing; the second you register that it has, you feel yourself blush furiously. And, dammit, Jin clocks the whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, that soft smile turning razor sharp. “Why’s that?”

You’re saved by your phone buzzing on the table, the screen coming to life, illuminating with the notification from your messaging app: Mom.

Frantically, you swipe to open the message, eyes flying across the screen as you read her update. Then, you close your eyes, pressing your forehead to the breakfast bar, the fake granite cool beneath your skin, letting out a shaky exhale.

You feel Jin; he’s instantly in your space, one large hand resting lightly over your shoulder as he hovers closer to you. Aside from his hand on your back, comforting, he’s not touching you at all. But somehow it feels like he’s surrounding you.

He says your name quietly, inquisitively.

You reach out blindly, your hand finding his knee. “It’s okay,” you say, taking a deep breath and sitting up. Your head spins. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes and take another deep, bracing breath. Seokjin’s hand stays on your back. “It’s good news.”

You hear Jin exhale beside you, his fingers twitching against your shoulder blade, almost like he had the reflex to squeeze you and fought it just a second too late. It strikes you, deeply, that he’s relieved. He doesn’t know your parents, has no real stake here. But his relief is palpable next to you; your worry had become his own.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Your problems shouldn’t be his to bear. “I know I wasn’t great company tonight.”

He shakes his head, following your lead and placing his hand back on his own legs, as if wanting to cover the spot on his knee that you’d left vacant. “I enjoyed your company,” he says openly. “I’m glad you came over.”

You sit in silence, both sneaking glances, neither knowing what move to make yet. You feel like you’re playing Chutes and Ladders and a chute just sent you sideways around the Peppermint Forest and dumped you seven spaces ahead when you don’t really belong there yet. Or maybe you’re mixing up your board games.

“I should probably go give them a call,” you say reluctantly. “Can I help you clean up? You cooked.”

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head. Both dogs look up at this familiar word, gauging if they’re the ones in trouble. This makes you smile, and it breaks you out of the weird headspace you were in. “I’ll clean up.”

You rise, calling to Zinnia as you grab her leash. You clip her up and head for the door. Jin trails behind you, walking you out. You pause near the door, looking at him balefully.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously - for everything. For… caring about my problems. For the delicious food. For cooking and cleaning up. You should have let me do the dishes.”

He smiles at you, sunlight spun into the quirk of his lips, the soft wrinkle at the edges of his eyes. “If you’re that worried about it, I know how you can make it up to me,” he says, his voice a little teasing.

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow. You’ve got emotional whiplash; in the last three hours you’ve gone from flirting to panicking to soft to awkward to flirting again and you cannot keep up.

He leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, that smile turning sharp again. God, you like his face so much. You like him so much. “Mhm,” he says, mock seriously. “I found a trail I want to check out with Blue, but as a general rule I don’t do mountains alone.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “You need an Adventure Buddy.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly, snapping his fingers in excitement. “Exactly. So, what do you think? This weekend? The weather’s supposed to be great.”

“Can I let you know?” you ask. “Text me the details.” Truth be told, you want to look up the trail first and decide if it seems too challenging.

Jin slips out of that teasing, flirtatious mode easily. “Sure,” he says, all casual again. He’s so hard to keep up with, you think you’ll never get used to it. “I’ll text you.”

You open the door, tripping over Zinnia a little as she pushes past you into the hallway, but you’re stopped when Jin says your name one more time. You look back over your shoulder, curious.

“I’m glad your dad’s okay,” he says, giving you a rueful smile.

You give a tiny smile back before Zinnia bodily tugs you further away, spurring you into movement. “Thanks,” you say, and turn to go.

–

[9:19 PM] You: idk about this trail…. looking at the elevation… do you think it’ll be too hard for Zinnie? she’s just a baby :’)

[9:21 PM] Seokjin: the elevation’s misleading, it’s honestly not that bad

[9:22 PM] Seokjin: you’ll be totally fine

[9:23 PM] Seokjin: oops i mean “Zinnia” will be totally fine 😏

[9:23 PM] You: … what exactly are you implying here

[9:24 PM] Seokjin: just that any and all babies will be fine :)

[9:25 PM] You: …….i think we’re fighting

–

Seokjin drives you - and the dogs - to the trailhead early Saturday morning, the low rising sun dodging in and out between buildings as they pass you by. The forecast calls for a beautiful day - bright and clear, not too hot to hike, but not so chilly that you’ll shiver the whole first leg.

As Seokjin parks and organizes his backpack, you stand next to the car, shielding your eyes and peering at the top.

He laughs when he notices, the sound alive and as bright as the weather. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promises, coming close, looking at the top with you. His presence, so close to you, feels thrilling - like electricity, like a promise.

“You keep saying that,” you deadpan, “but if Zinnia conks out on me, you’re carrying her up the mountain and back.”

“Have some faith,” he teases, and heads for the place where the trees split, the path tamped down from many feet, leading into thick forest.

Zinnia keeps up pretty well, actually, and you and Seokjin set a steady pace up the trail.

About a half a mile in, he asks, “How’s your dad?”

It startles you, and you look over at him kind of wildly. He looks back at you like it’s nothing - like it’s nothing that he remembered and thought to ask - waiting for your response.

“Fine,” you say, a habit. Then, reconsidering, you add, “I mean, the same. He’s got more tests and stuff lined up, but the verdict from the cardiologist was that there’s no immediate concern. So… that was a relief. His primary care doctor looked at his EKG results and said to go immediately, so we were pretty scared.”

“I’d be scared, too,” he admits. “I’m glad you got good news. I would have been a wreck.”

You continue talking as you walk - about your families, your parents, your siblings. This moves into a conversation about things you both remember from growing up, until the conversation has delved into you both laughing too hard to get a sentence out as you manage, “Wait - wait, do you remember -?”

This takes the conversation to old movies you remember fondly.

“Can you believe my ex had never even heard of those?” you ask a little indignantly, before registering that maybe that was a weird thing to say.

But Seokjin takes it in stride. “The one who cheated on you? We’ve established his poor taste already.”

This makes you giggle. “Yes, that winner.”

He looks over at you, as the trail veers left and sharply steepens. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he says evenly. “I can kind of relate. It’s not fun.”

You peer back at him, not sure how heavy this conversation is going to, or should, get.

Hesitantly, you ask, “Do you want to tell me about it? I don’t want to… y’know. Pry.”

He shrugs. “At the end of the day, there’s not much to tell. My last girlfriend… I don’t think she cheated - or, well, I never had proof that she did.”

“You suspected?”

He wiggles his head, indicating a maybe. “I think it was heading that way with her and a co-worker. It’s possible that I ended things before it got to that point. But she started lying to me about him - about little stuff, stuff that shouldn’t matter. And I just… I’m a pretty understanding, easy-going guy, but I’m not going to tolerate someone lying to my face.”

You continue in silence for a few minutes, weighing these words in your mind, adding this new knowledge to the idea of Jin that’s in your head.

Then, he flashes you a cheesy grin and says lightly, “And that’s my sales pitch! Want to date me?”

You laugh out loud, mostly in surprise. But he’s still looking at you, and you feel your eyebrows raise.

“Was that a real question?” you ask, a little disbelieving. God, he’s the most unserious person you’ve ever met.

“A little bit,” he admits.

Stunned, you manage, “You might need to do a harder sell.”

His brows furrow dramatically. “Please, I’m a catch. Didn’t you taste my food the other night?”

“That’s true,” you muse. “The food was bomb. I’ll think about it. Gotta decide if this purchase will break the bank or not.”

While you’re just going along with his little bit, it kind of feels like code. You do need to consider if you can afford dating Jin - emotionally. Mentally. Are you ready for a relationship again? Would that even be what he wants?

“That’s fair,” he says easily. “Crunch some numbers and let me know.”

You think with anyone else it would be awkward the rest of the way, but Jin doesn’t allow it to be. He carries the conversation onto the next topic - gossip about your dog-trainer, Jimin - without a hitch.

You follow the conversation somewhat absently, still in your head, questions rising up to stare at you like Marley’s ghost, covered in chains. What do you want? What are you ready for?

You aren’t sure - about any of it. But Seokjin’s presence feels like warm rays of sunshine, warming you from a chill you didn’t know you had, and his laugh feels like the toll of city bells, telling you it’s time to come home.

–

Zinnia doesn’t conk out on her way up the mountain, but she definitely slows. Jin ties the girls’ leashes to a low branch near the trail and fishes a collapsible water bowl from his backpack, filling it with water and setting it down.

“Wow, that’s fancy,” you marvel, as Zinnia attacks the water bowl with vigor, water splashing the rock beneath, painting everything a darker shade of grey. “If we’re gonna keep doing this, I might need to get one of those.”

But Jin’s attention isn’t on the dogs anymore - it’s on the view. He’s wandered to the edge of the flat expanse of rock, where grey meets the green of far down below. You join him, and he puts an arm around your shoulders, glancing at you to make sure this is okay. You look out at the view, and it is beautiful… but your mind is too busy to appreciate it.

“Jin…” you say slowly, and he looks down at you, hand tightening against your shoulder almost reflexively.

“Hm?”

“If I were interested… what exactly are the terms of sale?” you murmur, feeling kind of shy.

Jin laughs, delighted, throwing his head back with it. His hair falls away from his face and he uses the hand that’s not on your shoulder to push it back. “What do you want them to be?” he asks, and you feel a tingle down to your toes at the dangerous undercurrent that flows along with the question.

“I’m not totally sure,” you admit quietly. “Is there any kind of… trial period? Any way to start is slow and see how it goes?”

Seokjin gives you an understanding squeeze. “Listen, as much as I love the bit and your dedication to it, I really want to communicate clearly about this. So - just to be very clear - I’d really like to date you. If you’re more comfortable starting slowly, I’m okay with that.”

You press your lips together, reaching a hand up to gently touch his fingers where they rest on your shoulder, considering.

Seokjin watches your face, then says, “I know a great burger joint on the way home. Let me buy your dinner, and we can call this a first date. What do you think?”

You turn to face him, looking up and up into his warm eyes, and his hand shifts from your shoulder to the center of your back, holding you loosely enough that you don’t feel held in place, feel free to go if that’s what you choose.

“That’s a pretty good first date,” you say seriously. “But it’s really gonna depend on how the burgers are.”

He grins, cocky. “They’re pretty good,” he says. “But, honestly, mine are better.” Then, he presses the knuckle of his index finger gently to the bottom of your chin and kisses you gently - again, so gently it’s barely there, so gently it would have taken just a breath of space for you to pull away if you wanted to.

You don’t; instead you press forward, pressing your lips more firmly against his, your hands coming to rest on his upper arms, feather-light. Behind you, Zinnia begins yipping - loud, insistent, each sharp sound piercing the silence around you.

You pull away from Jin, flushing, pleased to see a smile on his face. “She’s just jealous,” he deadpans.

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Please. She gets to kiss me all the time. She can share.”

Laughing, Jin heads for the dogs, ready to head back down to the cars. “Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “Let’s go get some pretty good burgers.”

–

They are good - better than pretty good, you think, and you tell Seokjin so after a beer and a half at the burger joint’s outdoor patio. The mountain you’d tackled looms in the distance, blue and shadowy.

“I’m telling you, mine are better,” Jin insists. “I have a secret method.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “Taking it to the grave?”

“You say that like it’s a joke,” he says seriously. “But I am.”

On the wooden deck beneath you, Zinnia lays on her side, eyelids fluttering and paws twitching as she dreams.

“We really knocked her out,” you observe.

Jin laughs, reaching his arms over his head to stretch, the movement causing his shirt to ride up just enough to show a slip of belly before it falls back into place. You try not to look, try not to remember kissing him at the mountain’s top.

“That’ll be us in a few hours,” he jokes. “I always knock out after a hike like this.”

“I’m going to be sore for days,” you agree, rubbing your calves in anticipation of the aching muscles you’ll have tomorrow.

“I have a suggestion,” Jin says, voice low. You flush, expecting him to flirt, to offer to rub your tired legs or something suggestive. Instead he says, “You ever try epsom salts?”

You blink at him, bamboozled. You just can’t predict him - he zigs when you expect a zag every damn time.

“I have, yeah,” you finally stammer. “I don’t think I have any left, though.”

“I have a huge bag,” he tells you, finishing the last of his second beer in one long draught. When he sets down his glass he tells you, “I’ll bring you the bag later. It’ll help a lot, I promise.”

You look him over. “You’re a guy with a lot of solutions, huh?”

He coughs, averting his gaze. You notice the tips of his ears turning pink and you hide a smile behind your hand. So cute.

“I try to be solution-oriented, yes,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

There’s no sign of that - the pink ears, the averted eyes, the mumbling - when he shows up at your door about twenty minutes after you arrive home. Zinnia is passed out on the floor behind you, having first lapped up her body weight in water from her silver bowl in the kitchen. As for you, all you’ve managed to do so far is shed your sneakers, your jacket, and the tshirt that had been sticking to your back, leaving you in athletic leggings and a sports bra.

Jin’s gaze sweeps you from head to toe and then settles determinedly on your eyes, like he’s got to work at it. “I brought the epsom salts,” he tells you unnecessarily, holding up the bag.

“I see that,” you murmur, feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks.”

You reach to take the bag from him, but he tugs back on it a little, effectively pulling you to him. You trip into his arms willingly, ready for it this time when he kisses you.

He walks you backwards into your apartment, out of the threshold, letting the door close behind him. You hit the wall of your entryway, let him cage you in against it, his lips insistent against yours. When he runs a hand softly up your arm, summoning a wave of goosebumps in its wake, you sigh against his lips.

He takes advantage of the opening, teasing your bottom lip with his tongue before venturing further. You open for him happily, leaning back against the wall, reveling in the feeling of his strong arms on either side of you, the feeling of his tongue sliding against your own, the feeling of his hair between your fingers - when had you grabbed his hair?

You kiss him until you’re dizzy, until your legs feel weak beneath you, until you feel his hand travel from between your shoulder blades, to the small of your back, to the side of your ribs.

You break the kiss gently, nearly panting for breath. You can feel Jin’s pulse jumping as he does the same.

You look at each other for a long moment, communicating silently, weighing options.

You could invite him in. He’s here already, Zinnia’s unconscious, you’re holding a bag of bath salts (wait, no, the bag is on the ground - when did you drop it?). But something in your stomach tugs, tells you not yet. So that’s what you tell him, on a whisper, your teeth coming to toy with your swollen bottom lip as soon as the words are out - not yet. I’m sorry.

“Hey,” he says, cupping your cheek with a hand, so soft. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything. Don’t apologize.”

You glance around the room, desperate for a distraction, but nothing comes. “I, um,” you say, looking anywhere but him, “I think I’m gonna try the salts now. My legs are like jello.”

He gives you a tiny grin, and you roll your eyes. “From the hike!” you protest.

He gives you a playfully disbelieving look but backs off, giving you some space again. “Sure, of course,” he says, smirking.

You bend to pick up the discarded bag, holding it in your hands, feeling along the rubber zipper. Then, you cross Jin’s path and open the front door again, looking up to find him still watching you.

He gives you a playful smile. “I had a nice first date and a half,” he says, losing the fight against a pleased smile.

You huff out a laugh. “This was the half?” you clarify.

“I don’t kiss like that on the first date,” he sniffs in mock indignation.

You giggle, following behind him as he heads to the hallway. “Goodnight, Seokjin. Thanks for the salts. And the date and a half.”

–

You soak away your sore muscles and sleep deeper than you have in months.

Your days continue this way as April’s grey and rainy afternoons give way to sunshine, bright afternoons, trees starting to bud as the temperature grows milder. You meet Jin at the dog run every afternoon unless you text to make different plans - sometimes a walk with the dogs through the park nearby, sometimes dinner out, sometimes dinner in.

Dinner in usually means more kissing.

Sometimes, dinner out does, too.

In retrospect, you should have known. You should have known that as you fall for Seokjin little by little something else must be coming. Things can’t just be bright sunshine and Seokjin’s laugh, Zinnia’s wagging tail and linked fingers under starry skies.

Your brother shows up at your door, unannounced, almost a full month after your first date with Jin.

You almost don’t recognize him; it’s not that you haven’t seen him in that long - you have. It’s just that he’s still a kid in your head, a gangly, acne-prone teenager with earpods and a scowl. The man who stares at you, a rolling suitcase in hand, is in a suit. He looks put-together, and grown.

You say his name nervously, and he sort of grimaces at you.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” he says. “I’ve been on the phone with Mom and the doctors.”

“Doctors?” you echo, backing up to let him inside.

He gives you a look as he wheels his little suitcase inside. You don’t like the look. It says something bad is coming.

“It’s Dad,” he says.

–

You end up going out to grab dinner - you have no groceries to cook him a meal, and you’re a terrible cook anyway.

Your little brother fills you in - that cardiologist appointment over a month ago had ended with a positive outcome. They’d told your parents not to worry, there was no immediate danger, but there were certainly concerns.

Concerns that had worsened in the following month, apparently.

“They’re going to see a cardio team at the hospital here in the city,” your brother explains. “Mom was going to call and explain all of this to you, but I told her I was coming here anyway. She can focus on them - getting a hotel set up, packing, all that stuff. It looks like he’ll probably need surgery - they’ll decide at his appointment tomorrow. If that’s the case, they’ll stay in the city for a little until he’s recovered enough to go home again.”

You feel like you’re in shock; it’s a lot all at once. Your whole family suddenly in your city, under terrible circumstances. Surgery? Heart surgery?

“I’ll get a hotel, too, if it turns out they’ll be here a long time,” he says.

You come back to earth sharply. “You don’t need to do that. You’re welcome with me and Zinnia as long as you need, okay? Seriously. I’ll talk to Mom in the morning. We’ll get everything figured out.”

Just like that, the toughness drops out of him. Somehow he’d been the one your mom had called, the one responsible for relaying the information, the one responsible for making and supporting medical decisions. You’re the elder, it should have been you. As soon as you take the reins again, he folds, pressing his hands to his face and letting out a shuddering breath.

You feel horrible, instantly. He’s the baby, he’s not supposed to have to shoulder the responsibility.

“Hey,” you say softly. “It’s gonna be fine. Dad will be fine. We’ll find out tomorrow what his treatment plan is, and how long they’ll need to stay. You’re fine staying with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he says, uncovering his face and reaching for his water glass. “You’re right.” Then, quieter, “You’re right.”

At the end of the meal, walking back to the apartment, you stop near the door and give him a hug, your brave little brother.

“You did well,” you assure him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He hugs you back, holding you like he’s been drowning and you’re a buoy. It breaks your heart to think that may sort of be the case.

Neither of you notices Seokjin and Blue pass by, glancing at you curiously over his shoulder on his way into the building.

When he texts you that night, not long after you’ve set your brother up on your couch and crated Zinnia for the night, it’s not entirely unexpected, considering you’d skipped your normal trip to the dog run earlier, and you’d been too spun in circles to text him an explanation.

His message lights up your screen - “missed you earlier. everything ok?”

You hesitate, nibbling at your lower lip as you consider. What could you really tell him right now?

Not really, my baby brother showed up unannounced and emotionally hanging by a thread, and we’re waiting to find out tomorrow if a team of surgeons will be opening my elderly father up for heart surgery.

Not really a text message conversation, right? Honestly, you’re not sure it’s an in-person conversation, either. The relationship - if you can call it that without having discussed exclusivity yet - is still new, blooming, fragile. Is it too much, too soon? Would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?

We had another health scare with my dad, but it’s okay now. He’s recovering.

Isn’t that less heavy? Your problems should not be Seokjin’s to carry, and you know he’ll try to carry them. He’s wonderful that way, always doing. There’s something scared and snappish inside you that wants to keep him far away from this until you’re sure you can look brave, until you’re sure you won’t fall apart in front of him.

In the end you send back, “all good! just got busy. how was your day?”

It strikes you as a little weird that he hasn’t answered by the time you go to bed. But as soon as you’re up the next day, you’re completely focused on your parents. You call them before you’re even out of bed, checking up on where in the city they’re staying, what time your dad’s appointment is. You call out sick from work, glad you hadn’t wasted sick days back when Zinnia was keeping you from sleeping - even though you’d definitely considered it more than once.

You and your brother both go to the cardiologist appointment, you two and your parents squeezing into the little consultation room as the surgeon examines your dad’s results on his computer screen.

Your heart hammers as you wait. You see your mom’s foot tapping, tapping, tapping, and you reach to hold her hand, hoping to comfort her, calm her down.

The surgeon removes his glasses and looks at your father seriously. “I do think surgery is the best course of action,” he says calmly. Your heart drops. The doctor continues, “It’s a pretty routine procedure, as far as these things go. Nothing to worry too much about. I’m confident that a stent will work.”

You lock onto the words minimally invasive, listening eagerly as the doctor continues to outline the plan he thinks will work best.

“I think it’s best to admit you today and schedule the surgery as soon as possible,” you hear the doctor says, and the rest of the day is a blur - signing papers, answering doctors’ questions, running back to your parents’ hotel to throw together a bag of personal items for your dad, running to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee that has been your only meal all day, more papers, waiting room after waiting room after waiting room.

When you finally get home, long after dark, your brother trailing wordlessly behind you, you’re so mentally and physically exhausted, you could cry. Zinnia waits for you in her crate - Ry had luckily been around when you texted, and came to take her outside a few times while you were gone. You let Zinnia out of the crate and collapse on the couch. Your brother takes the recliner, staring at you like you’ve both emerged from a warzone.

As you unwind, try to unclench your brain and your jaw and your shoulders, you think to check your messages. Part of you hopes Jin’s sent you something.

But your messages are empty. Your heart sinks with disappointment. You plan to go to work tomorrow; your dad’s surgery should end midafternoon and you can go straight to the hospital from work. It’s another day that you’ll miss Jin at the dog run. You think about texting him with an explanation, but that last message you sent him still sits there, unanswered, calling you a fool. So, instead, you slide your phone into your pocket and ask your little brother if he wants you to order delivery.

–

It takes you two more days to really get the message - Jin’s silence is deliberate. Your father’s surgery goes well, and if all goes according to plan your family should be heading back home in just a day or two. Crisis handled, on the day after surgery you swallow your pride and send Jin, “Sorry I’ve been MIA - family thing. All good now. What’s new with you?”

Not only does this go unanswered - like the one before - but another three weekdays go by and your trips up to the dog run at 5:15pm remain devoid of company.

Your father heals. Your mother takes him home. Your brother packs up and leaves just a folded up blanket on the couch he’d occupied for almost a week. April turns rainy, like the children’s rhyme says. And you… you slide back into your old routine, sans Seokjin.

You’re sad - of course you’re sad, you liked Jin. He was funny, charming, and so ready to do for you. You’d gotten used to having him around - his windshield wiper laugh, his great cooking, the way he’d carry the same joke or bit with you for a whole day before letting it go, the way the monotony of your day to day seemed interesting again once he was in it.

And you missed Blue, too.

But it wasn’t that deep - not yet. You’re not sobbing, heartbroken, into your pillow or anything. You feel disappointment above all else - disappointment at the loss of what could have been something.

You really do think it could have been something real.

You also feel… confused. What had happened? Had Jin seriously gotten mad at your silence for a few days and just ghosted you? You replay your last few conversations in your head, scour your last few text exchanges for anything that would make sense, but nothing does.

Some little part of your brain niggles, suggests that you’ve been wronged, somehow. That something had happened to you that you didn’t deserve. It’s enough to start just the tiniest flicker of anger, deep in your belly.

Thursday brings rain - relentless, cold, the kind of rain to make you wrap up in a jacket and tell Zinnia to hustle when you bring her upstairs to pee.

For the first time since the day your brother showed up at your door, you run into Jin and Blue. Jin is coming in from outside, both he and Blue soaked from the rain. His jacket sticks to his chest, his drenched hair pushed away from his face. He pauses as Blue shakes the water from her fur, and that’s enough time for your eyes to catch his.

You freeze, not sure what will happen - will he talk to you? Should you say hi?

His face, already blank, somehow slides blanker, like something falls away from it and leaves it even more empty. Then he pulls his gaze away from you, orders Blue to his side with a single, muttered syllable, and turns on his heel to walk to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

He’ll take the stairs, you figure, so he doesn’t have to walk past you to get to the elevator.

That little flicker of anger builds into a flame, and even the mid-April downpour can’t put it out.

–

It rains for days, your apartment cast in grey. You don’t know if it contributes to your mood or if it’s just mirroring it, but you feel grey, too. You quit using the dog run and start taking Zinnie on loops around the block, instead. After her walks, you lay on the couch, cheek pressed against the soft material, dramas playing on the screen without your attention.

Zinnia lays on the floor against the couch, occasionally whining and licking your hand. Sometimes she digs out toys - rubber kongs, plush ducks she’s practically decapitated, rawhides - and drops them at your feet, looking at you hopefully. You toss them for her or play tug each time, but you think she knows your heart isn’t in it.

Later, when you try to remember April, all you can think of is grey and rain.

–

It seems, though, that you’re not the only one who gave up on the dog run. On the first weekend in May, on a day that is - yes - grey, but thankfully not rainy, you run into Jin on the sidewalk a few buildings down from your own.

Blue wags happily when she sees you, but you feel yourself frown, already sliding your gaze to the ground. You don’t want to watch his face go ugly again, like last time. You can’t bear it, you think you might snap. That indignant little flame tickles in your veins.

You have to pass each other unless one of you turns around, so you grit your teeth and push on. It feels like an imminent collision, tension and anxiety building in you the closer and closer you get - and then Zinnia decides to make it an actual collision, zigging sharply towards Blue at the last second, knocking you off-balance right into Seokjin’s space.

His hands take you by the upper arms, steadying you, placing you back on your feet. There’s something tender in his touch, you think, and then you glimpse his face. That blankness again, the flatness nastier than any scowl he could send your way.

His hands are off you quickly, and he’s pushing past you, not a word spoken.

That flame bursts from a tickle to a storm.

“Hey!” you shout, the word tearing from your chest like it had to detach from something, burning up your throat like the burn of liquor. Seokjin turns, that flat expression starting to border on a defensive sneer. “What the hell is your problem?”

Now it is a sneer. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” you shout, stomping closer. Zinnia follows, her tail down, sensitive to your tone. “What exactly is the problem, Seokjin? I’m dying to know.”

He opens his mouth to answer you, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh. “No, seriously,” you say, that same bitterness marinating every word. “I’m dying to know. I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I can’t. So please, enlighten me. What did I do?”

Your body sings with adrenaline, your chest heaves with quick breaths as your body tells you it’s ready to fight.

Seokjin lets out a single huff of a laugh. “What did you do?” he echoes sarcastically. “Literally the only thing I consider a hard no.”

You don’t follow. “What?”

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe that you don’t get it. “I saw you hugging that guy,” he says evenly, “and then I texted you to see what -.”

“That was my brother,” you blurt furiously, eyes narrowing. “Is that what this was all about? You didn’t strike me as a jealous, jump-to-conclusions kind of person -.”

“I don’t care about that,” he says over you, tone stoney. “You lied to me - right to my face.”

You stare at him blankly, trying to put the pieces together. He’d seen you hugging your brother, and then he’d texted you “everything ok?” and you’d said… “just busy”. It was a lie, sort of - barely.

You laugh - actually laugh. “You’re out of your mind,” you say coldly. “You dropped me over that? I had things going on that I didn’t want to get into. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he says, not cruelly, just truthful. “It was a lie.”

You heave a frustrated breath, casting your gaze at the full clouds above you. “Seokjin,” you say slowly, “you’re not being fair.” It feels suddenly very important to you to defend yourself, to explain it all away - even if he still walks away after, you want to be sure he knows he was wrong. “I wasn’t lying about, like, where I was, or who I was with. It was just… omission. The situation felt… too heavy for whatever this is. Whatever this was,” you amend.

He just looks at you silently, but you can see the changes in his expression - that flatness melting away almost imperceptibly, making way for something chagrined. You take this as a good sign and continue, explaining what had happened - from your brother showing up, to the surgery, to your family heading home again - leaving your space emptier than they’d found it.

Finished, you look at him silently, watching him process. Then, everything off your chest, you move to continue on. You feel, suddenly, like you have nothing else to say to him. “We were just casually dating,” you point out as you take a step away. His ears are red again, but he hasn’t tried to speak. “At no point did I lose the right to choose what to tell you and what to keep to myself. You acted like a child when you could have just communicated with me.”

You give Zinnia a gentle tug and she follows as you head back to the apartment’s front doors. You don’t look back; you don’t think you can.

–

Upstairs, you unclip Zinnia and sink into a kitchen chair, head in your hands. It felt good to yell at him, felt good to find out the reason for his silence. You’d made your peace already with losing him - so why do you feel worse now?

You’re there only minutes when you hear a soft knock on your door. You sigh, knowing exactly who and what it is, and forcing yourself to rise anyway. All the anger you’d felt outside seems to have leaked out of you; now you just feel resigned.

Jin’s ears are still bright red. “You’re right,” he says in greeting. Then, he waits, leaning against the door jamb as you process, as you decide how to respond. Blue stands just behind him patiently, the leash slack.

Mouth twisting, you look at him flatly. “Care to elaborate?”

“Ah,” he utters. He looks embarrassed, one hand still absently on the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “I owe you an apology.”

When you still say nothing, he continues.

“You’re right - you don’t have to tell me your business. I’d like you to - or, I’d like to feel like you can - but you’re not obligated to. I… overreacted. And then I was being too rigid to look closely at what was going on. I just…”

He trails off and looks at you balefully. “I’m not trying to make an excuse,” he tries to explain. “I know I was wrong. I just made myself a promise years ago to never let anyone lie to me again… hoping I’d never feel so stupid again… and I let it… take over. I’m sorry.”

You consider this, foot tapping nervously. “Okay,” you say finally.

Something hopefully breaks over his face; he moves minutely closer to you. “I feel horrible,” he admits, voice hushed suddenly. “You were going through all that, and I absolutely made more problems for you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice echoing a little flatly to your own ears. “I forgive you.”

He takes a step back, like the unbending insincerity of your words actually knocks him off balance.

“Okay,” he says, his voice somehow small. He starts to back away from your door, Blue scurrying out of his path, but his eyes remain on you. “I’ll, uh… I’ll probably be at the dog run tomorrow? Normal time?”

The way he says it, a question, asks if you will too.

“I don’t know,” you answer, even though he didn’t technically ask. “I don’t know yet. Maybe. We’ll see.”

You agonize over it all night. You’re mad - mad that he reacted childishly, mad that he added stress during a hard time for you, mad that he doubted you and judged you and didn't give you a chance to explain yourself. Mad that he let you down.

But, something logical inside you counters, he’s apologized. He’s taken accountability for it, admitted he’d behaved immaturely. Didn’t people, generally, deserve second chances? Didn’t you want to give him a second chance, regardless?

By the time you get ready for work the next morning, you still aren’t sure. Your stomach churns with indecision all day. When you get home, you sit on the couch, still in your work clothes, and eye Zinnia thoughtfully. She sits and cocks her head to the side, almost quizzical. Like she’s asking, okay, boss, what’s the plan?

You still don’t know. With a sigh, you change out of your office attire and take Zinnia out. At the elevator, you stare at the buttons: physical embodiment of this choice.

In the end, you hit down, taking Zinnie out through the lobby and heading down the street. The idea of Seokjin up at the dog run, eyes on the glass doors - hoping to see you, makes you hunch your shoulders up against a wave of guilt.

You feel like now you’re being the childish one. You know you want to give him another chance. Pretending otherwise just to punish him for hurting you… it’s not a good look, and you know it.

When the knock on your door comes, several hours later, as the sunset casts your apartment in deep blues and shadows, you feel like you were expecting it the whole time. You feel like it’s your own second chance.

“You didn’t come,” he says, frowning adorably.

You sigh, taking a step backwards to let him inside. He does, the door shutting behind him.

“Why are you here?” you ask; not demanding, not to fight - you want to know. You want to know what he’s hoping for right now, what he wants to happen, so that you can decide if you’re game or not.

He seems to understand, seems to hear the question for what it really is. He says your name, still hushed, like if he says it with too much force the letters will blow away like dead autumn leaves in a November squall.

“Well?” you prod.

“Please,” he says, something so desperate playing on the notes of the word.

“What?” you repeat, hating that your voice is choked. “What do you want, Seokjin?”

He closes the space between you, one hand coming to cup your jaw so light you aren’t sure he’s actually touching you or if you just feel the warmth of proximity. “Forgive me,” he whispers. “I want you to let me try again. Let me do better.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, but you lean into his touch, closing your eyes. He strokes your cheek gently with his thumb, then pulls his hand away and cups the back of your head, guiding you close enough to press his lips to the top of your head, the kiss lost in your hair.

“I promise,” he whispers, “I won’t fuck up like that again. I want to try again - I like you so much, I want to do everything right for you. I feel like such an idiot for wrecking it.”

“You are an idiot,” you say, and you feel him smile against your forehead before he laughs.

“Never again, Jin,” you say sternly, leaning back to look up at him. His hand slides down to the back of your neck, resting comfortably. “I don’t do bullshit like that. We’re adults. We have to communicate. We have to speak -”

Behind you, Zinnia barks once, sharp and proud.

You and Jin both dissolve into giggles, both of you praising Zinnia for following the command.

When you turn back to Jin, he’s looking at you warmly, eyes shining with fondness. He dips his head to kiss you, and when he feels you kiss him back he tugs you closer by the small of your back, grunting into your mouth when your bodies collide.

He breaks the kiss and whispers against your jaw, “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You let out a breathy sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, tilting your head to give him more room as his lips go from whispering his desire to kissing your pulsepoint, teeth barely there before his lips soothe the spot.

You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, holding on tight, relying on him to hold you upright as his mouth makes you dizzy. When his lips make it back to yours, you tug on his shirt and walk him backwards towards your open bedroom door. You giggle against his lips when he kicks it shut behind him.

You’re kissing again as you shed layers in tandem, breaking apart to pull shirts over your heads, kissing messily again as you balance on one foot at a time to remove socks, giggling as you lean back to get a good look at him as he undoes his belt. Would it be crass of you to whistle in appreciation? His shoulders are just... so… wide.

When your leggings pool on your carpet next to his blue jeans, he backs you up to the bed, where you sit heavily. He crawls over top of you, mouths clashing again as he holds himself over top of you. You feel like you’re spinning - you cling to his shoulders, focus on the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, his fingers tracing the outline of your breast, the insistent press of his clothed erection hot against your thighs.

He kisses you like he’s devouring you, like he’s claiming you, like he’s pouring out every frustration into his lips and teeth and fingers and tongue and they’re all spinning you in bigger and bigger circles, ever widening.

Then the spinning crashes to a halt, because his fingers are meandering lower and lower, skimming your last rib, skating over your lower belly, sliding over your cotton panties and hovering just out of reach from where you want him the most.

He presses kisses down your jaw, down your neck, goosebumps rising up your arms as his breath ghosts along your throat. His fingers skim your slit over the damp cotton, making you moan shamelessly against the top of his head, but his hand travels back up, fingers sliding up your stomach and back to your chest.

“Jin,” you breathe, as he rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of electric delight clear down to your toes, and he answers you with a low groan before capturing your mouth in another deep kiss.

You’re spinning again.

Then his hand is back where you want it - fuck, you want it everywhere - fingers sliding through your folds before pushing deep into you. You gasp, but your body shifts to meet his knuckles, hips tilting to let him deeper still.

It takes you only minutes before you’re begging for him, unashamed, whispering his name around a litany of please and I need you and more, please, more.

He rolls away from you wordlessly, shifting to dig through his wallet. You hear the telltale sound of foil ripping and then he’s back over top of you, lips marking a path from your stomach, up between your tits, past your collarbones, before latching onto your neck as he gives you exactly what you asked for.

The stretch stings but you don’t care, moving to meet him, to take him all the way. Seokjin buries himself deep with a throaty groan, the sound mingling with your own whine.

He keeps a slow pace at first, content with exploring every new everything - every new sound he can pull out of you, every new spot he can touch that makes you arch your back and moan a little louder, every angle that makes you pitch go high and your nails find his shoulders.

It’s not long before his resolve breaks, his pace quickening as his hips snap into yours, the room filled with the sound of his thighs slapping yours. The tightening ball in the pit of your stomach swells, and your fingers find your clit as you careen towards the edge. Seokjin talks you through it when you crash past the precipice, calling you beautiful, telling you that you feel so good as you clench around him in waves.

Your limbs feel like jelly as you come down from the high, but Seokjin isn’t done with you. He presses kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the space just beneath your ear. Then, he whispers, “Can I go behind you?”

You nod - words are still too far away, slipping just outside of your fingertips. You can touch them, but can’t pull them close enough to use. Jin uses gentle hands to roll you over and backs up to stand next to the bed; he guides your hips backwards until your knees rest on the edge of the mattress. Still boneless, you fold your arms and press your face into them, moaning loudly when he enters you slowly.

At this new angle, you feel like he’s somehow, impossibly, deeper, and it’s all you can do to dig your fingers into the sheets beneath you and survive. His pace is slow for only a moment, letting you adjust, and then he’s pounding into you again, hands tight on your hips, pulling you backwards to meet each thrust.

You can tell it immediately when he’s close - the sounds spilling out of him turn from deep grunts and quiet gasps to lengthier sounds that verge on whiny. You gasp in time with him as he pumps into you more shallowly, barely pulling out at all, as one last strangled, broken sound leaves his mouth.

You collapse forward onto the bed the second he releases you, your heart hammering. Behind you, he must be handling the condom because when he flops next to you, eyes searching for yours, it’s gone.

“Hi,” he says, smiling.

You laugh. “Hello there.”

He rolls onto his back next to you, radiating happiness. “So?” he asks your ceiling. “Am I forgiven?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t erase the smile from your face. Oxytocin is a bitch. “I guess,” you allow. “But you’re on thin ice for a while.”

He makes a thinking sound. “I’ll have to fix that,” he muses, one arm thrown over his head. He looks over at you. “How about you go shower, and I’ll cook you something?”

You twist your lips, considering. “Mmm,” you say. “I think I’d rather you join me in the shower first.”

His smile grows impossibly wider, and his hand creeps to find yours, his fingers lacing between yours and squeezing tight.

–

When you think about May, you remember pink.

Pink flowers blooming on the trees outside. Pink sunsets as you and Jin walk Blue and Zinnia through the park in the evenings. The pink of Zinnia’s tongue, lolling out of her mouth as she pants happily at your feet. The pink of Seokjin’s ears when you tease him or call him handsome in front of your friends.

You started things slowly - even slower than the first time; you’re nervous that something will happen again, that this second chance was indeed a mistake. But, true to his word, Seokjin shows up for you every day - he misses no chance to remind you that he’s here, and he’s got a score to settle with his past mistakes.

As the month comes to a close, spring teasing at tepid summer, you make a decision. You head to Seokjin’s place before dinner, as you do most evenings lately, letting yourself in with the door’s code. Blue is resting on a dog bed near the kitchen, placed there so she can see Seokjin even when he’s cooking and doesn’t feel lonely out in the living room. Zinnia slips through your hands the second the door opens, zipping into the apartment wildly.

“Zinnie!” you call.

Seokjin’s voice carries out to you from the bedroom - “Yeah?”

You laugh, shutting the door behind you and heading to where you’d heard him from. “I said Zinnie, not Jinnie!” you clarify.

He comes out of the room, laughing at the miscommunication, pausing to kiss your cheek. “How was your day?” he asks, before heading around you into the kitchen, where he had apparently been halfway through chopping some veggies.

“It was fine,” you hedge. “There’s something I was thinking about today, though.”

“Oh?” he says, looking over his shoulder at you as he picks up where he left off with the chopping.

You lean over the kitchen table, palms a little sweaty with nerves. Below you, Zinnia zips around, chasing a rubber ball of Blue’s, barking loudly as if scolding the toy for fleeing.

“I was thinking about us,” you say slowly, and Seokjin stills, setting down the knife and turning to face you, sensing that this talk is serious. His ears tinge pink almost instantly.

“Okay…” he says slowly.

You take a deep breath and push forward. “I was thinking about how I asked if we could do this slowly. How we were taking it one day at a time, not putting a name to it or anything.”

He nods, eyes on you, listening.

You shrug, look away and lick your lips. “I think I’m ready - I think what I want is…”

Behind you, Zinnia’s repeated yaps overtake the room, echoing through Jin’s kitchen.

You try to speak over her, stumbling over your words. “What I’m trying to ask you is… will you…”

Zinnia’s barks get louder; the ball is stuck under the couch and she is pissed. You turn, calling to her, “Zinnia, sit!”

The command works. She plops onto her butt obediently, and silence descends on the room like a sprinkle of snow.

You turn back to Jin, heart racing, to finish your question. “...stay?”

Thank you so much for reading! <3 Please look forward to the other fics in the collab and support those excellent writers as well!!!

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