#ignore that this took literal months. I wanted to be normal. I think I succeeded :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ask-sou-hiyori · 4 years ago

Text

Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

#ask blog #shin tsukimi #masterpost #important #long post #yttd #sou hiyori #your turn to die #synopsis #...long synopsis #soup SPEAKS #to be continued #will update #soup art #edit #sprite edit

19 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 5 years ago

Note

After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

557 notes · View notes

jabberbeans · 5 years ago

Text

Wangxian Coffeeshop AU: First encounter

I put Wangxian, coffee, urban magic, fluff and slowburn into the melting pot and crossed my fingers - read at your own risk. I’ll be updating this story in shorts before revising and posting a full length version to A03 (somewhere in the distant improbable future).

Featuring confused pining over magic tea and magic sweets, cafe shenanigans and baker/patissiere(?) WWX and LWJ.

Tranquility turned tea from pear-green to a deep sea foam. Lan Wangji felt this was appropriate - water was the most tranquil thing he knew. His uncle disagreed - as he often did - and had attempted to shift the colour back to its original green many times. That one was a failed experiment - it reduced the efficacy of tranquility and made the tea taste like grass.

“That’s not green tea,” Lan Qiren had scowled, pointing an accusatory finger at the perfect sea foam brew. “It isn’t traditional.”

Was magic traditional? Lan Wangji had been tempted to ask, but held his tongue. Using their energy to shape the natural order of things into something else - perhaps that betrayed tradition, or at least some law of nature. But magic ran as deep as blood, and the healing teas were so much more healing when they used magic, so sea foam it was.

They still called it green tea on their menu. It was very popular.

Gusu had been a traditional Chinese tea house, once. Lan Qiren would have been quite content to keep it that way too, but even he couldn’t shout gentrification into going away. Gusu was dying. So he turned the shop over to his nephews with the vague hope that they could reassess its business model and bring in some customers. Then he went on a long vacation.

When he returned, Gusu was transformed. Literally. Its dark wood finishings were gone, replaced with snow-bright walls. The tea was unrecognisable. There was a dessert menu. And a bar counter.

But there were also customers. So many, in fact, that Lan Qiren was forced to don his apron and help out not five minutes after walking through the door. Lan Wangji had never seen his uncle so disturbed as he’d been that day, trapped behind the counter while teenagers pointed their phones at his hands and cooed over the quaintness, the rarity, the sheer aesthetic - of hand brewed tea.

It wasn’t that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji had betrayed their uncle and tradition. It was more accurate to say that they took his best ideals, put them in the proverbial blender and stood by silently to receive the scrambled results.

Floor seating and low tables remained - but there was also a large communal table and benches, and of course, the dreaded bar counter with its stools. The tea menu was largely the same, just tweaked to look and taste better. Ice blended options were now available, to their uncle’s everlasting horror. And there were traditional desserts - almond soup, sesame balls, milk pastry, cakes - all arranged artfully and minimally on little porcelain plates.

And so Gusu was preserved, albeit not quite in the shape their uncle would have preferred. But four years on, the cafe continued thrive - building a solid reputation among locals and visitors. Lan Qiren had mostly adapted to the teenagers with their phones and the cakes by now, but he still eyed the green tea with deep suspicion.

Lan Wangji was doing the very same that morning, as he regarded Lan Jingyi’s practice brews. The teen had arranged the tiny glass cups from dark amber to pale yellow. Perhaps he thought he might get points for neatness.

“Again,” Lan Wangji said with finality, eyes sweeping down the line. “When you make clarity, the oolong should lighten to parchment.”

Jingyi wilted first at again and segued quickly into bafflement at parchment.

“Parchment?” The boy repeated, unsure if he heard right. Lan Wangji paused to think it over, then nodded.

“Like paper white, tinted with yellow or tan. Parchment.”

Jingyi looked exasperated then, eyes wide and swivelling in their sockets to catch Lan Sizhui’s, who pretended not to see. Finding himself without allies in the kitchen, Jingyi’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Yes, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji didn’t blame him. Clarity was difficult to make. Oolong got particularly stubborn when energy was channeled into it. If one had poor magic control, the colour could turn almost violently, from amber to walnut to black.

He left Jingyi to continue his oolong studies and approached Sizhui instead, who had finished divining the difference between parchment and white the day before, and so was allowed to move on to desserts. Lan Wangji approached from behind silently, but Sizhui’s hands remained steady as they attempted to transplant a sesame ball onto a spun sugar base. It wobbled unsteadily when he drew back.

“I’ll do it again,” Sizhui said before Lan Wangji could. “The base is too brittle. It must have been the temperature.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji approved. “Continue.”

The boys were young, only fifteen, but they were fast and eager to learn. Their progress came at no little effort however, if Jingyi’s growing army of oolong cups was any indication. But Lan Wangji was not worried. His uncle had handpicked them himself from some branch or other of their very, very extended family, and they were proving to be dedicated workers. It had been less than a month since they began training, but they would soon be ready to work the counter.

There was a loud rattling sound from Jingyi’s corner of the kitchen, a hastily bitten off curse, and then Sizhui was abandoning his station to fly over with a towel. Lan Wangji pointedly did not turn around to look. Perhaps not /too/ soon.

Jingyi’s cups were no closer to parchment by the time Lan Xichen poked his head in. “Wangji,” he called. “Would you check outside? The customers say there’s an obstruction near the entrance.”

“The deliveries?” The deliveryman occasionally left their parcels at the front, if he was busy.

“He would have called if he wasn’t coming in.”

“I’ll check.”

It wasn’t a parcel. Lan Wangji spotted the problem the moment he stepped out - it was taking pains to make itself known, actually.

A little stickman was drawn onto the walkway in what looked like chalk. Someone had magicked it to life so that it danced about - harmless, but an annoyance regardless. It surged towards Lan Wangji’s foot, circling playfully and attempting to slide onto his shoe. If it succeeded, the chalk drawing would transfer to the leather.

Lan Wangji stepped briskly out of its path and tried to trace its spiritual source. It was strong, and he followed it easily out the gate. The little stickman raced to stay close, its arms waving about.

He was so preoccupied ensuring it didn’t touch him that he nearly tripped over the problem’s source.

“Careful!” The man squatting on the pavement said, flinging an arm up in reflex. His hand was covered in chalk dust. Lan Wangji stepped back to look at him. Then he looked again.

“You…” He had no words for what he was witnessing. The man was surrounded by chalk drawings that stretched all the way up the pavement, past the neighbouring lot. They were wriggling with life - little stick figures dancing, animals prowling, scribbled phrases vibrating - and food - so much of it, all moving.

It was a simple matter to implant spiritual energy in the drawings - small children could do it with enough practice. But that was precisely the problem, it was a trick for children, not adults.

“You’re blocking my sun, do you mind…?” The man said, not unkindly. He still hadn’t turned around, eyes focused on his next drawing. Lan Wangji did not move.

“This is vandalism,” he told him.

“It’s only chalk. It’ll wash away with the rain. Or a good sweep.”

The man looked up then, and…Lan Wangji did not know what he was expecting - he had no preconceived notions. But he felt a flicker of surprise. The man’s mouth was curved like he was laughing, though no sound passed his lips. His smile was sun-bright. For a brief moment Lan Wangji allowed himself to notice the rest of him - his impish features, his haphazard ponytail, and the red ribbon that tamed it, just barely.

He looked away.

“You’re obstructing our business,” he told the air in the middle distance. He sensed the man was staring at him but he kept his gaze averted. There was a small gasp, like the man realised something.

“Oh! You run the cafe?” Lan Wangji let the weighted silence speak for him, and the man continued to speak as if he’d received a proper reply. “I didn’t notice I was in front of your shop. I started drawing and I had so much inspiration that I forgot -“

“Please remove yourself and the drawings. You are inconveniencing the customers.”

The man pouted. “I want to save the drawings first…but I don’t have paper. That’s why I’m drawing out here. You see, I had this amazing idea for a triple tier reverse lava cupcake and I needed to sketch it out before the idea got away from me but all I had was this chalk in my pocket so -“

Lan Wangji was quite finished listening to him somewhere around paper. He said sternly, “If I give you paper will you stop?”

“And a pencil too, please!” The man said shamelessly, as if it was perfectly normal to make demands of strangers that he was inconveniencing.

Lan Wangji unfolded his wallet, and ran his fingers through it briefly. He kept some useful things inside - stationery, a first-aid kit, a spare apron - and his notebook. It was twice the size of his wallet and the man hummed with interest when he extricated it.

“Handy trick,” he commented, eyes twinkling.

Ignoring him, Lan Wangji carefully tore three pieces of paper from the spine. Then he glanced at the chalk drawings and tore another piece. The man was gleeful as he accepted them.

“I drew a lot, didn’t I,” He sounded pleased with himself. “Thank you.”

“Hm.”

He stood aside while the man lay the paper sheets on the ground, spreading them neatly. Then he wriggled his fingers and whistled once, sharp. The doodles froze where they were, some in the midst of sneaking onto the street. When the man tapped the paper with his finger they began to slide along the pavement very quickly, shrinking as they went, until they were paper drawings. Lan Wangji was surprised by the sheer number of doodles of cake, sweets and desserts - each one elaborately drawn and unusual.

Unbelievably, there was a reverse three-tiered cupcake - just like the man had described. A long string of untidy handwriting accompanied it, jostling the cupcake as they both slid onto the last empty spot. Then it was over, and the pavement was clean once more.

Almost.

“You forgot one.” The little chalk man was still trying to climb his foot despite the slight energy field Lan Wangji had put up to rebuff it. It hopped around the toe of his shoe, waving indignantly.

“Hm...” the man crooked a finger at it, and when that didn’t work, he whistled sharply. The little chalk man appeared to toss its head rebelliously at his efforts, marching away until it was behind Lan Wangji’s shoe.

The man only laughed, “You should keep him, I think he likes you.” Then he winked and turned away, his ribbons flying as he did. Like they were taunting him.

“You...!”

“Take good care of him,” the man called back, already walking away.

#mdzs fanfiction #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #fanfiction #the untamed #wangxian #coffeeshop au

17 notes · View notes

chanagun · 5 years ago

Text

Coffee in One Hand (Earphones in One Ear)

Fandom: SOTUS The Series Pairing: Prem/Wad

Summary: Every day he worked, like clockwork, the same young man came in at 2:30. He'd order a medium black coffee with room; he'd pour some 2% milk into it at the counter and take it to a booth nestled in the back of the shop. But he'd always still be in perfect view of Prem, who would not-so-subtly gaze longingly in his direction. Prem thought it was kind of cute how the man would push his glasses to the top of his head to keep his long hair out of his face and how he'd pull out his laptop and always only use one earphone while working for an hour.

Notes: The Coffeeshop AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. Title is from Falling For U by Seventeen 2,949 Words

AO3 Wattpad

——

"I wonder what he's always working on," Prem said to no one in particular.

"Who cares? Don't you have some fancy lattes to be making?" Bright asked from his spot sitting atop the counter.

"Don't you have literally any work to be doing?" Knot asked just as Arthit swiped at Bright's legs walking towards the register, effectively knocking him to the ground.

"MAN DOWN!" he yelled as his coworkers just laughed. Just a normal day at the shop, Prem thought, before turning back to the man.

Every day he worked, like clockwork, the same young man came in at 2:30. He'd order a medium black coffee with room; he'd pour some 2% milk into it at the counter and take it to a booth nestled in the back of the shop. But he'd always still be in perfect view of Prem, who would not-so-subtly gaze longingly in his direction. Prem thought it was kind of cute how the man would push his glasses to the top of his head to keep his long hair out of his face and how he'd pull out his laptop and always only use one earphone while working on something for an hour. He'd take little sips here and there from his cup, taking his time finishing his coffee. Sometimes he'd glance over to the counter, and Prem would look away, hiding his blush with his hat, and pretend he was cleaning. He didn't really do subtle well.

"Seriously Prem?" he jumped when a surprising hand connected with his shoulder. He pretended Knot's solid hand didn't hurt when he turned to him to see what he needed to say. "We really do have some fancy lattes to make. You can continue ogling that stranger in a bit."

"I am not ogling," Prem mumbled in return as he tightened his apron. He heard Bright snort behind him. And yes, the swift kick to his shin Prem landed was well deserved. Bright's yelp was satisfying enough to focus on his steamed milk designs.

The stranger was always packed up and gone before their after-work rush came in. Prem felt brave enough to send him a smile as he walked to the counter to return his mug. He smiled back softly and was out the door. Prem felt his face warm and he bit his lip. He grabbed the glass and studied it a moment. Knot always seemed to give him that particular mug; a taller, off-white mug with a tiny chip in the handle.

Bright, always one to ruin a moment, yanked it from his hands and walked it to the sink. Prem snarled at the oblivious dishwasher.

"You were drooling all over the counter anyway, Prem," Arthit teased, noticing his bewildered expression. Prem glared for a moment before turning back around to wipe down the steamer.

"I was not," once again mumbling in response.

"Hello friends!" a new voice announced as the front doors swung open.

"Ah, good afternoon, Kongpob," Knot greeted warmly, ignoring how Arthit ducked behind him when he heard Kongpob's voice. Kongpob smiled brightly at him despite the pink tinting his cheeks. "Your usual?"

"Yes, thank you, Knot," he replied as Knot rang him up. Kongpob was another regular of theirs, definitely more social than the stranger Prem was infatuated with. Kongpob also very obviously had the hots for their Arthit, while Arthit spent his time pretending he didn't notice him, yet always insisted on making his drink. Prem watched Arthit craft his latte, while Kongpob took his seat at the bar and continued his own gaze with his chin resting on his hand. Arthit filled his dark green mug, taking extra care with the heart drawn into the foam. Their same old song and dance.

Kongpob usually stayed for a bit under the guise of studying with an open textbook in front of him, but really just tried to get Arthit's attention. Prem knew he succeeded too, the tips of Arthit's ears always turning red when Kongpob smiled at him.

"Okay, I've got to go to practice, but I'll see you all tomorrow!" Kongpob announced a little while later. They each bid him farewell as he packed up his backpack. "Goodbye, Arthit," he said with a smile, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Arthit just grunted in response, pretending to be busy with the french press, but a blush was evident in his cheeks. Prem rolled his eyes at the encounter fondly and waved bye to Kongpob.

Their coffee shop only had two shifts and Knot was their shift manager. He was responsible for making sure they all stayed on task to get the shop closed and cleaned on time; he only smacked Bright occasionally to keep him focused on finishing up the dishes. Knot would mumble about how Prae, the first shift manager, would be mad if everything wasn't in tip top shape for opening the next morning. Prem, and everyone else, knew that wasn't true. Prae was a sweet girl and she did her job very well. She appreciated how everything would always be neat and ready for open and would tell them every shift change.

Prem was on floors, so after they locked the door at 8, he grabbed the broom and started making his way around the shop. His mind drifted almost immediately to the mystery customer, as he found it doing very often.

Perhaps he was a novelist, typing away every day to make his editor's deadlines.

Or maybe he was a programmer, scripting long sequences of code for work.

Maybe he was just screwing around on reddit.

"Oi, Prem, you've been sweeping that one spot for five minutes. I think it's plenty clean!" Bright yelled out to him. Prem pretended he was going to throw the broom and made Bright flinch, but he couldn't help the flush on his face. He couldn't get that guy out of his head.

Prem traded out his broom for a mop and a bucket and tried to keep his mind occupied by listening to his coworkers banter while they cleaned the back. They mentioned that Knot got tickets to a concert later that month as a surprise for his boyfriend and automatically Prem thought about the one earbud in the mystery man's ear.

"I wonder what he listens to..."

"It was all kind of slow besides the 7 o'clock rush," Prae told them as they put on their aprons, "we tried to keep it as tidy as you guys always do," she finished with a smile.

"It's always appreciated. Thanks Prae," Knot responded.

"And thanks Tuta," Tuta added snarkily as he closed his register. Knot chuckled and playfully punched his shoulder. "Ow."

"Thanks Tuta, and thank you May and Tee, we'll see you tomorrow." The first shifters made their way out the door and Prem quickly fell into the normal rhythm. He really enjoyed his work at the shop, and he liked the company. His coworkers were the only really close friends he had since he came out to the city for uni. Sure, they had their quirks, but he got a long with them nicely. They worked around each other smoothly, making life a little easier.

It was 2:30 before Prem realized and he had to catch his breath when the young man walked in. He went up to Knot at the register and ordered his usual. Prem bit his lip and tried to distract himself from watching the exchange. He didn't want to be too creepy. He failed, of course, a faint blush gracing his cheeks as he saw him make his way to his table and push his glasses up. And then he caught Prem's gaze, causing Prem to jump and busy himself behind the steamer. He felt his heartbeat in his throat and he tried to shake it off.

Prem was glad it got kind of busy in the shop, so he could successfully avoid looking at the customer again for a chunk of time.

"Oy, Prem, watch the register for me really quick?" Knot asked him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other a couple of times. Prem laughed before shooing him to the bathroom.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his stranger stand, getting ready to leave. Prem swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on the door. He was surprised to see Kongpob walking in way earlier than he usually arrived. Prem watched as he looked up from his phone to smile at the mystery man walking towards the door.

"Oh, Wad, hey!" he heard Kongpob greet. Prem gaped at them as the customer — Wad — smiled back.

"Hey Kong," they bumped fists, "how're you doing?"

"I'm alright, a bit tired. I'm gonna grab some much needed caffeine," Kongpob said lightly, but the circles under his eyes suggested he was more tired than he was letting on.

"Maybe take a nap too, man. Are you still coming to practice?" Wad asked.

Kongpob nodded, "Yeah, of course."

"I'll see you later then. Take it easy," Wad told him before finally making his way out the door.

Prem stood, dumbfounded, at the register. He kind of just stared at Kongpob as he walked up to order.

"The usual, Prem... are you okay?" Prem blinked. He then cleared his throat and shook it off.

"Oh, um, yeah," he said as he put Kongpob's order in. "You're here earlier than usual today," he said, attempting to be casual despite not feeling the slightest bit casual.

"Yeah, I had kind of a long night and I needed some coffee ASAP," he chuckled before handing him the correct amount of cash. Prem nodded, and took it.

"So, um, you know that guy?" Prem winced at his own words and Kongpob furrowed his brow.

"Who? Wad?" Prem felt the growing warmth on his face, but nodded anyway. Kongpob just smiled at him. "We've shared a few classes and we play basketball together. He's a good guy, albeit reserved... when he wants to be."

"Thanks for covering, Prem— oh, Kongpob, you're here early—" Knot said upon his return being cut off by Arthit clearing his throat loudly.

"Your drink is up," he said tersely, placing it in Kongpob's normal spot before he even sat down. Kongpob smiled fondly and excused himself from the register. Prem saw the concern in Arthit's face upon seeing Kongpob. He leaned forward and spoke to Kongpob in hushed tones while he sipped in his coffee. Prem went back to his station and watched as Kongpob's eyes slowly brightened. Prem wasn't sure if it was entirely the coffee's doing, noticing Arthit's hand atop of Kongpob's.

He bit his lip, willing the thoughts of holding Wad's hand one day away.

"Arthit," Prem whispered to get his attention. They had locked the doors some time ago and it was just him and Arthit cleaning the back as the others roamed around to close.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking over to Prem.

"Don't take this the wrong way, I'm just really curious..." Arthit quirked an eyebrow, signaling Prem to continue, "you like Kongpob, right?" Arthit's face showed a flash of confusion before snorting a laugh.

"Um, yeah, Prem. I do. We've been dating for weeks."

"WHAT?" Prem yelped, causing Bright and Knot to glance over. Prem flashed them a toothy grin before asking, lower, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"You didn't ask!" Arthit replies defensively. "I thought you guys knew!"

"Arthit come on! We had money on this."

"What?"

"Nothing! Anyway, that's actually really awesome and I'm happy for you, I'm sorry this is so awkward now."

Arthit rolled his eyes fondly before replying, "thanks. What were you going to follow that up with, anyway?"

Prem bit his lip. "I mean... I was going to just see if you liked him... to see if you would tell me how you got a good boy like Kongpob to like a curmudgeon like you." A wet rag hit him in the face. "I'm just kidding! Ow! Also gross!"

"You deserve it! And if this about your earbud boy, Wad," Arthit said, giving Prem a pointed look, "Kong told me he asked him about you."

"What?" Prem felt himself freeze while Arthit just smirked at him.

"Yeah, at practice he asked Kong, and I quote, 'who the cute barista with the ballcap' was. It wasn't Knot, because he doesn't wear a hat and it wasn't Bright, because he's not cute."

"But... wait, what?!" Prem spluttered, making Arthit laugh at him again.

"Prem please. He stares at you just as much as you stare at him," Arthit informed him. Prem kept gaping at him, unable to process. "You both just miss each other's gross love lorn glances. It's actually really sad." Prem whimpered at the comment. "Buck up and just talk to him! Tomorrow. Please. It's getting really hard to work with your pining all day." Prem whimpered again.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us!" Bright yelled as soon as Arthit walked behind the counter the next day. Their group chat had been lighting up all the night before once Prem let it slip that Arthit was dating Kongpob. Which, of course, spurred Arthit to tell them that Prem was going to talk to Wad finally. "I can't believe I'm the only single one now! Do you think Tuta from morning shift has a boyfriend?"

"You know I'm still here, right?" Tuta asked, taking off his apron.

"Don't even start with that Bright," Knot warned.

"Wad isn't my boyfriend! I haven't even talked to him!" Prem exclaimed back to Bright.

"Yet. You haven't talked to him yet," Arthit said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well. As much as I would love to know what's going on, I have class," Prae announces to the afternoon crew. She grabbed onto Tuta's wrist to pull him away from glaring a hole into Bright's head. "We have class. See you all tomorrow!" She said sweetly on her way out the door.

The afternoon staff quickly dispersed, their laughter trailing behind them as they took their usual spots. They fell into their rhythm; taking orders, steaming milk and making lattes, then cleaning up and doing it over again. Prem hummed a song that had been stuck in his head for days as he took the blender over to the sink.

That's when he realized Bright was no where to be found. Prem scoffed and turned toward the registers to shoot Knot an incredulous look.

But he wasn't there either. And Arthit wasn't by the steamer.

Prem furrowed his brow, completely at a loss. The door chimed and his eyes flashed to the entrance. 2:30. Prem cursed his coworkers as Wad made his way to the register. "Um, hi," he greeted Prem quietly, looking confused at the lack of workers.

Prem swallowed the lump in his throat and threw the blender down into the sink unceremoniously. He winced but powered forward. He grabbed the chipped, off-white mug and brought it with him to the register. "Black coffee with room?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Wad blinked at him twice before nodding eagerly.

"Could I get a piece of coffee cake too?"

"Of course," Prem said, trying not to let his voice crack. Wad never usually ordered food, so he was slightly surprised. Wad handed him too large of a bill and shoved all his change that Prem returned into the tip jar. Prem turned to fill the mug quickly to hide his reddening face. "I'll warm up that coffee cake and bring it around to your table?" He tried not to make it sound like a question but he was nervous.

"Oh, thank you!" Wad replied, taking the mug from Prem's hands. Prem tried not to faint right on the spot as their fingers brushed during the exchange. Prem couldn't help but smile as he saw the tips of Wad's ear go pink as he turned and walked to his usual table.

"Thanks for covering, my man, I had to go to the bathroom," Prem heard Knot say from behind him.

"And I had to check something in the stock room," Arthit added as Prem turned around.

"And I just wanted to not be out here for five to ten minutes!" Bright said, punctuating with a wink.

"I hate all of you," he told his coworkers. He grabbed a slice of coffee cake and put it in the warmer, ignoring the whispers and chuckles from his so called friends.

Wad already had his computer out, glasses on the top of head, and he took a sip gingerly from his mug. He met Prem's gaze and smiled as he approached with the plate.

"So you don't usually order anything but coffee," Prem blurted. He was never good at thinking before speaking.

But Wad just smiled again and said, "you know my order well." Prem almost choked on his own spit, making Wad laugh at his spluttering. Prem thought his laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.

Prem realized he was still holding the plate so he put down, a little too hard, by Wad's laptop. "So, um, I'm Prem." Wad chuckled.

"I know. I sort of asked Kong about you. I'm Wad."

Prem grinned then, "I know. I kinda asked Kongpob about you, too."

By the end of the shift, Prem had a new number in his phone and a date scheduled for the weekend. He didn't stop smiling, even after he was back in his apartment for the night.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up a new message:

'So what are you always working on when you're at the shop?'

Additional A/N: Too much background and build up for little payoff? Maybe. I'm sorry. I've been in a funk. Wad is a graphic designer in this AU and he's WORKING okay but it doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the view of the cute barista that has the cutest smile and hums songs Wad doesn't know.

#annie writes #sotus #sotus the series #premwad #artkong #tutabright #coffeeshop au #i missed my sons (the hazers are my sons)

29 notes · View notes

virgosaturn · 6 years ago

Text

how the moon signs deal with breakups

submitters were asked to answer the following q’s: how do you process a break up (do you first feel relieved and then grieve, for example)? how do you comfort yourself after a break up (could be outside influences or what you do alone)? feel free to continue to submit.

aries moon:

“after a break up - intense feelings, regret, obsessed with the person, very hard to let go, obsessed over what went wrong. Grief, sadness, anger and a bit of revenge. When alone - tries to figure out what went wrong, MUSIC, transformation does occur when it truly meant something for them. When outside - spends a lot of time playing sports, very competitive, angry, passionate. Expresses all the intense feelings through sports. Also stalking tendency.”

“I deff feel first might even react in a aggressive way. I comfort myself by emotionally eating and completely avoiding people until I get over it.. sometimes I go out and just try to forget it until.. I'm alone.”

taurus moon:

“I eat. A lot. I shop. A lot. I comfort myself with things money can buy. I go out and pretend to be happy. Once I’m done w/ the over-indulgence of my post-breakup then I hibernate for a couple weeks-months. While I’m hibernating, I think of everything we did, all the good and the bad. I remember smells, feelings, sensations, etc.That I associate with them. Or I rethink things about what I did wrong and how I could’ve done things different. I replay every little thing. Smh.”

gemini moon:

“When I break up with someone I normally feel tortured by the decision and I second guess myself at every turn. The only way I am able to process is by completely cutting ties with the other person so that I can heal into whom ever I am to become next. It takes a long time for me to get over a relationship and I still do experience longing from time to time.”

cancer moon:

“if I break up with someone, before doing it I feel so awful and guilty. I’m overwhelmed with to much stress that my stomach always hurts so badly. Then when I finally decide to do it, I don’t feel guilty anymore but instead I feel so nostalgic. I would think about us, what we were, our great memories. And idk it’s weird but I always end up loving the memory of that person more than the person themselves. Like... just the thought of them.”

leo moon:

“After breaking up with my ex, I immediately got dressed and ready to go out, I took selfies and posted them on social media where he would see them; I went out and had a good time and made sure he knew I was having the time of my life. After I got the attention I needed, I blocked him on everything. When the love of my life broke up with me lmao I stayed in my room day and night, slept all day long, cried all night. And literally haven’t gotten over him to this date smh”

virgo moon:

“after a breakup i usually focus on myself only, i feel bad maybe for a couple of days but then i get up and make myself busy, i usually do something that my ex could see (succeeding at a project, etc.) and treat myself all the time 💃🏻face masks, my fav food, shopping💆🏻‍♀️”

libra moon:

“when i break up w/ someone, i feel terrible about it. i try to think of ways we can fix the relationship to avoid breaking their heart. when someone breaks up w/ me, i’ll pretend i’m fine in front of them & shrug it off like it’s not a big deal. but i’m an emotional mess once i get home, questioning if it was my own fault that they broke up w/ me.”

“I experience shock at first, like I turn stone cold while the break up is happening and then I go through denial, and being like "nah, they'll come back eventually", and then I think of all the things I did wrong and all the things they did wrong so I go on hating them for a bit until I start crying my ass out to some sad songs until I just don't give a shit anymore & move on”

scorpio moon:

“It was denial, like it didnt matter at first. Then, things sunk in and i just absorb until i exploded. I cried as i spoke to my mother about it. One week later, i started packing up everything that reminded me of her and kept in a box. Not one thing was left out as i wanted to banish any existence. A few months later, the pain has dull but there will always be an ache whenever i came across astrology posts that reminded me of her. She was the one whom got me into astrology.”

sagitarrius moon:

“I get mad, think of a revenge then cry, a lot, and never actually follow the revenge. Then try to seem all put together in front of them”

capricorn moon:

“I wouldn't be likely to be the one to break up. When broken up w, I try to work on myself to be a better person w hope of redemption. // I process a break up by crying, a lot of crying. I comfort myself w face masks and self care!”

“I can usually tell when someone’s lost interest in me or vice-versa already and I’d try to leave the relationship as quickly as possible. I’d then proceed to sever all existing contact with the person. Of all my exes, I feel almost immediate disgust towards them that I can’t even stand seeing their pictures or hearing their names lol. In terms of moving on, I don’t really get attached and usually get over the person whilst I’m still in the relationship”

aquarius moon:

“processing a break up, i’ll pretend to be fine in public but be an emotional mess when i’m alone. getting over a break up, i’ll probably try to distract myself by talking to someone new in order to get over the person that broke up w/ me.”

pisces moon:

“I’ve usually been fairly okay because in my head we’ve already broken up. But I usually cry a lil bit because I’ve lost my best friend, I eat, and then meet up with friends that I sort of ignored while in the relationship and move on”

2K notes · View notes

anincrediblelife-blog · 5 years ago

Text

A “new normal?” I don’t think so...(?)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I remember the day like the back of my hand. I had just been admitted to the Johns Hopkins hospital, hooked up to oxygen and IV fluids. I was meeting with my new team of oncology doctors.

They went over my plan of treatment and what to expect. Naturally, as many would also probably respond as, I blacked out. I’m sure it was the lack of oxygen and the mix of pain killers, but I honestly don’t remember any of it. The room went dark, I could hear them— feel their pressence, but my mind had basically burst into a million pieces. So much information given to me in...in what, maybe 30 minutes, tops?

Chemo was a drag, as most would expect. I handled it well, quite honestly. I got sick maybe once or twice my first round, but it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. Fatigue and the emotional sobbing was my biggest problem. It would come out of nowhere. I became sensitive to everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars would pop out and I’d be sobbing. I’d watch my 600lb life... and sob. I’d sit down for morning coffee, and sob. I didn’t fight the tears anymore.

Chemo does weird things to your body and your mind— you’re literally morphing into this lifeless, non-recognizable body. My hair fell out everywhere. My beard fell out. Christmas Day I was in the shower and globs of hairs were just falling out. A few days later I said fuck it, took my clippers, and pulled a 2007 Brittney Spears.

I began to look like my pubescent 11 year old self. It was weird. Just totally taboo.

I was facing a huge challenge now. This really hadn’t hit me yet.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t until my eyelashes, my eyebrows, and the hairs on my legs and arms began to fall out. It wasn’t really until I began to puff up like a fish from all the steroids; and gain the “Freshman 15” that I never did in college. That’s when it really hit me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Holy shit, I have cancer.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This “new normal” mentality was brought up so many times to me by so many people in the last year that I have learned to just ignore it...or at least try to.

Uh...Yeah, of course my life is going to change. I was just diagnosed with late stage metastatic ball cancer. I’m 24 fuckin years old, are you kidding me?

I was pissed, so mad at the world. What did I do to deserve this? Everything was finally falling into place for me. My career was taking off, I began to work on my masters degree. I was eating healthy and taking numbers. I had what I wanted. I had security.

I might have struggled financially, but I had begun to get my life together one step at a time.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I tried and tried to get back to my old self after finishing chemo, going through all these surgeries and getting back to my daily work life and weekend fun.

I was fighting this “new normal” mentality.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As of recently, I think I’m starting to get what they meant.

I was doing so well, health related. Tumor markers were returning to a normal range, lung mets were still shrinking. I wasn’t worried.

But as I look back from the last few months, I see it now. Something was wrong. My mood fluctuated, my emotions were all over the place. I emailed my urologist to ask for bloodwork for T levels. My hormones went through quite a bit over the last few months— a lot of hormonal changes. T levels came back normal. I started working out again, getting my ass into shape at kickboxing. (What a great stress relief, by the way. I highly recommend.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I mean, yeah, I knew I was sorta depressed, but I was back to at least a little bit of what we say ~thriving~ nowadays.

“Living my best life.”

Or so I thought I was...

But then I began to run myself into the ground. I started drinking a lot, being reckless, putting my roommate and my friends through hell. There would be times she would come home and I’d be passed out on the floor from having too much bubbly by myself on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t healthy— for me or for her. I had to get my shit together or I was out. Never did either of us even imagine I’d be struck with cancer. The tension was high. We both knew it, but, at least for myself, I’m not afraid to say I like to avoid conflict.

I was self medicating because thats what seemed what was best for me. In reality, I was self-destructing. And a steady decline I was taking.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the last couple days I’ve had a lot of time to think. (Maybe too much time, to be honest.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is.. I can sorta admit that I’m learning to accept these changes— this “new normal” mentality. I didn’t want to at first, but I think it’s ok. Instead of fighting to try to find the old me, maybe this “new normal” is a change that I needed.

A life style change? A new outlook? A restart button? Shut down, and reload.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Two and a half weeks ago, I had a brain tumor removed. Yeah, the cancer came back. Six months post chemo, six months post surgeries, six months getting back to work, getting healthy— a brain tumor. Surgery went well. They got it all out and I’ll meet with oncology next week for further details and a plan of more treatment if need be. (I’ll be sure to update.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

What...What I’m trying to say is that this brain tumor and this brain surgery and all that has opened my eyes even more to the “new normal.” The depression seems to have subsided, although I’m not afraid to admit I’m on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds and sometimes I feel like maybe we all should just be on them. I truly feel happier. Everyone wants to be happy— and I can honestly say that I’m getting there. I’m working on it. I have my days. We all do. So I don’t let it bother me.

It’s made me wonder— this latest occurance— to think of it as a learning experience. Some higher power put me in this situation to really challenge me...again. And I’m succeeding.

I refuse to lose. I never was a loser. My competitve side really comes out sometimes, catching people off guard. I’m usually the sarcastic wise-ass in the corner cracking jokes.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I need to start setting life goals. I want to travel more, I want to experience life like there’s no tomorrow. It’s easier said than done, I know, but it’s turning in a necessity now for me. Tomorrow is not promised. As cliches as it sounds, I want to carpe dium.

And that’s my plan. Carpe the shit out of that dium.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Enjoy your day, my lovely friends ❤️

#testicularcancer #carpedium #testicularcancerawareness #cancer #choriocarcinoma #inspiration

4 notes · View notes

luvknow · 7 years ago

Text

royal au | the prince, lee felix

PRINCE - next in line for the crown.

LEE FELIX was the most adored prince in all the land. the townspeople dubbed him prince charming when the king held a party in celebration of his birth and all he did was giggle and smile at all the people. felix grew up to be the most handsome and sought after prince in the entire world. but to you, every person who bore a crown was the same - it meant they had money, and lots of it. as a highly-trained thief, you’ve stolen from people of all social statuses and always succeeded, moving from kingdom to kingdom so you would never be found. the lees were your next target, but you realized this heist wouldn’t be as easy as your previous ones when the prince takes an interest in you.

enemies to lovers ; fluff ; female reader ; 6k

the backstory of how you became a thief was just like any other thief’s - typical and painfully sad.

the homeless life in your home kingdom was dangerous because stealing was a straight-to-execution crime.

the second you were caught in the market stealing from the pockets of nobles or even a few apples, authorities would drag you to the guillotine or to be hung - it depended on how they were feeling that day.

but that mostly applied to adults. kids were a bit different, but it was much easier to steal as a kid because people felt sorry for you.

you didn’t want to take any chances, though, so you stole things carefully.

soon, it became second nature to you and that’s how you survived through the days.

whether it was money or food, you honed the skill quite well with both distraction and stealth and you thought no one had caught you.

then one day, as you were eating your loaf of bread, a woman wearing a mask cornered you in an alley.

you thought she was the wife of the baker and was ready to kill you right then and there, but that was not the case at all.

“you’re pretty good at that, little one,” she said seductively. “can you show me that again? i’ll make it worth your while.”

she dangled a little baggie of coins in front of your face and who were you to refuse that? you nodded eagerly, awaiting her demand.

“good. go get that jar of honey for me, will you, sweetheart?”

the jars of honey were stacked neatly on a crate placed closest to the shop owner. this was probably your most dangerous product yet, but you literally had nothing to lose.

other than your life, of course, but even that didn’t matter so much.

the shop owner was busy flirting with some brothel worker when you approached the shop. since distracting was already covered, you had one less job to do.

the jars were quite big and oddly-shaped, so sticking this in your shirt would not be ideal.

instead, since the sleeves of your dirty shirt were long and oversized, your plan was to slip one inside and carry it that way.

when you stopped in front of the honey, you did your usual look-around, making sure no one was watching you.

then, you snagged a jar and zig zagged your way through the market to lose sight of anyone you missed who could have been watching you.

you appeared in front of the lady minutes later, who was startled by how quiet and quick you were.

you were perfect.

“oh, thank you! here’s your payment, as promised,” she said, handing you the small bag.

as you held the coins curiously, not used to the weight and amount, she continued on. “do you have a home, little one?”

you shook your head.

a mischievous grin grew on your painted lips. “would you like one?”

turns out your new older sister is one of the most wanted people in the entire world with a very heavy bounty on her head.

she refuses to get caught but also refuses to give up this luxuriously dangerous life she worked so hard for.

that’s where you come in. her purpose is to train you to become as skilled and stealthy as her and have you do all the dirty work in exchange for some of the earnings and companionship.

you didn’t hesitate at the opportunity. it’s not like you had anything better to do.

besides, all the training was a lot of fun! you learned to shoot arrows, fight with a sword, and some hand-to-hand combat skills.

you trained from dawn to dusk as you and your master travelled between kingdoms. when the sun set was when you went about your nightly missions.

some nights were easy, some nights you nearly got yourself killed, but in the end, you always came back with your pockets and bags filled with whatever your master wanted.

“here’s that damn love potion you wanted so much,” you pouted at her one night. “i normally don’t believe in that magic mumbo jumbo, but after almost getting set on fire, i think you might be onto something with this magic stuff.”

“but of course i’m right, my dear - when am i ever wrong?” she took the black vial from your hands with care and looked at it with sparkles in her eyes. “isn’t she so powerful? oh, the wonders i could do with this...”

“who do you plan on using it on?”

she shrugged carelessly. “i don’t know. maybe a king, or something.”

the next kingdom you settled into was your master’s most highly-anticipated target.

The Lee Kingdom, known for their rich crops and strong wine, was one of the most flourishing kingdoms you’ve ever seen.

everything was golden and warm and you think to yourself how you wouldn’t mind staying here for a while.

and that’s exactly what your master had set up for you.

“this will be our last heist together,” she told you that evening.

“what? why?”

“because after this, i will have taught you everything i know and we will be rich enough to live the rest of our lives freely. and who knows, i might not even live to see you succeed.”

“don’t say that...”

“_____, my dear, this heist is going to be very dangerous for the both of us, so you have to be careful, ok?”

“who are we stealing from that makes this so dangerous?”

“a king, of course.”

you’ve stolen from honest merchants, sleazy priests, and drunk nobles, but you’ve never stolen from someone as highly-regard as the king himself.

this was going to be the toughest mission you’ve ever executed, but if this would make her happy, then you’d do anything.

“you’ll start off small,” she explained, swirling her first glass of wine tonight. “start with the merchants for food and supplies and you’ll work your way up from there. oh, and get to know the townspeople - we’re going to be here for a while.”

“a while? why’s that?”

“the king’s birthday is about a couple of months away and we need to get on the invite list or else the plan won’t work. only the most highly-regarded people get to attend the king’s birthday.”

“and how do you plan on getting us on the list?”

she pulled out the love potion vial with her signature mischievous smirk on her red lips. “using this, of course.”

well, between the two of you, if there was anyone that was going to seduce the king, she would be the perfect person to do it.

she always said fatal attraction and law of seduction were important aspects of being a good thief, but that wasn’t really your alley, at least not yet, so you’ll leave all that nonsense to her.

your first pick-ups in the new kingdom were getting the basics, like bread, meat, silverware, some medicine, and more wine, of course.

it was easy when the streets were quiet and dark at such an early time - it was barely past dinner when everything closed down for the evening.

the townspeople must have really trusted each other, too, because they didn’t do much to hide or lock up all of their goods for safekeeping.

you dropped off your first round of goods to your master, who happily poured herself yet another glass of wine, before you decided to head out again for round two.

the night was still young, so you might as well keep going until you got bored.

somewhere off in one of the many alleys of the kingdom, you heard a bunch of cats meowing.

normally, you would think of that as a bad sign, like maybe they felt a bad spirit there, or something stupid.

but they sounded so hungry and you were feeling guilty hoarding all this fish in your bag.

it was starting to smell, anyways.

when you arrived to the scene of nearly a dozen cats, someone had already beat you to the punch.

a boy not much older or younger than you bent down to place several bowls of cat food in front of the meowing fur balls.

they kept on snuggling against him and you could tell he was struggling.

“do you need some help with that?” you teased.

startled to death, the boy dropped the bowls with a loud, echoey clang.

you felt guilty, so you went to help him regardless.

“sorry if i scared you,” you apologized.

the boy said nothing as he stared at you in awe.

even in the dark, he thought you were so beautiful.

“hello?” you called out, waving your hand in front of the open-mouthed boy. "you got a little drool there.”

“huh? o-oh!”

quickly, he wiped away the drool you were obviously joking about, but he wouldn’t take any chances - he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling.

you decided to ignore the awkward encounter and focus on the now-angry cats awaiting their meals.

“damn, these cats must be starving...” you noted.

“i’d be starving, too, if my caretaker hadn’t fed me all day.”

“wait, you own all of these cats!?”

“and then some. the rest are probably sleeping or looking for their own food. but i don’t own them, i just feed them. my dad’s allergic to cats, so i can’t have any at the castle.”

“ah, that’s unfortunate - wait, did you say castle...?”

“yeah?” he said as if it was so obvious. “don’t you know? i’m the prince.”

“the prince!?” you shrieked.

this was almost too perfect - like it was a trap set just for you. but the mission literally could not get any more perfect.

your plan was set in stone. you’d befriend the prince, get invited to the party, and steal from all the snobby, rich royals who were getting drunk off their ass on some wine.

“are you not from around here?” the boy asked.

“n-no! not really. i travel a lot with my older sister,” you lied. “we just came in this morning.”

“oh! well, welcome to our humble kingdom. my name is felix.”

“i’d hardly call your kingdom humble, dear prince. it’s one of the largest and most flourishing kingdom’s i’ve ever travelled to.”

“ah well, i try to be humble, but as you pointed it out, the kingdom kind of speaks for itself.” the cute boy scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “s-so, will you be staying long...?”

“i think so. can’t imagine why we’d be leaving soon.”

“oh, good! good... well, if you need someone to show you around, i’m always free.”

“wow, a personal tour from the prince himself?” you teased. “how gentlemanly of you.”

“so did you want to...?”

“i’ll think about it.”

you left the boy awestruck and confused, but he liked you because of that. you were definitely interesting.

“wait, what’s your name!?” he asked.

“_____!” you called out to him.

felix felt like he could fly after he met you.

you came home with your fishy bag and a cute smile on your face, hoping big sis would miss it, but of course she didn’t - she never missed any detail about anything.

“what’s with the smirk?” she asked, taking a roll of bread.

“you’ll never guess who i just met - the prince.”

you saw her sit up straight with the widest eyes. “you’re lying.”

“i could not make this up if i tried.”

you saw a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

“perfect.”

you spent the days getting to know the townspeople and the little secrets of the town while at night you would do your nightly pickings and meet up with felix afterwards.

he was an interesting boy - he wasn’t like any other boy or prince you’ve ever met.

he was awkward... but very cute and kind. there were moments when you were with him that you almost felt bad about your purpose here.

but you had to look at the bigger picture - this wasn’t for you, this was for big sis.

while you were feeding the cats with felix on your seventh night in the kingdom, a loud crash that sounded like a broken vase echoed through the empty village, sending the once-peaceful cats running and you on high alert.

it wasn’t like you were stealing or doing anything bad, but being so used to being careful at night, any noise would startle you.

“you’re like a cat, too, aren’t you?” felix teased. “always active at night, fiesty, nervous ~”

“i am not nervous, that noise was really loud...”

“uhuh. maybe the spirits are coming out early this year.”

“... what spirits...?”

“y’know, like dead people’s spirits. the 31st is coming up, after all. that’s the day when they like to roam the streets the most.”

“... you’re lying...”

“i mean, i’m sure that’s all just a myth, but the kingdom loves to celebrate on the 31st.”

“oh? doing what?”

“well, instead of all the shops being open in the daytime, everything opens at night so the spirits can mingle with us, or something like that. the people decorate the kingdom with tons of flowers, pumpkins, and skulls. it’s actually one of my favorite festivals.”

“ah, interesting.”

that meant bad news for you - you couldn’t steal things when there were so many people around and you wouldn’t dare to try in daylight.

you’ll just have to double your stash the night before.

“so,” felix began. “did you... maybe want to go...?”

“hm? to the festival? sure i guess, why not.”

“cool! great...!”

“oh wait, did you mean with you?”

“i... y-yes...?” he stuttered.

“then in that case, i’d love to go with you.”

he groaned loudly before hitting you playfully. “why are you like this?”

“because you’re cute when you blush.”

in between the day he told you about the festival and the festival itself, you both went about your business and meeting up at night as normal.

except he liked spending time with you so much that he even walked you ‘home’.

‘home’ as in some random house down the block of where you were actually staying.

felix would always insist on waiting for you to get inside the house before he left, but you told him you’d go in through the back so you wouldn’t have to pick the lock every time, and he fell for it.

this whole lying to felix thing and the huge heist big sis had planned was really conflicting.

the handsome prince and his kind family didn’t deserve what was coming for them, but then again big sis gave you a life. a whole purpose.

the heist was about a month away, so you still had some time. for now, you’ll just enjoy your time with felix.

big sis decided to join in on the festivities and spent the night by the winery of course.

you ended up wandering around, eyeing all the goods you wanted, but wouldn’t touch. today was your day off, so you were going to enjoy it with felix by your side.

everything about the festival was as beautiful as felix described - the flowers were a mix of bright warm colors to match the pumpkins, the skulls were bejeweled, and the rest of the decorations were pitch black.

just your type of aesthetic.

after an hour of casually looking for him, you finally found felix in the middle of town square, but he wasn’t alone.

he was surrounded by nearly every girl in town, smiling and laughing with them.

no, you weren’t jealous - why would you be?

he was the prince, after all. that meant he was the most eligible bachelor in the entire kingdom - of course he’d be popular with the ladies.

you wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t ask you to go to the festival with him in the first place if he was just going to socialize.

now you felt a bit foolish.

until he called out your name.

“_____!!” he screamed across the courtyard.

felix politely dismissed himself from the group before slipping past them to run to you.

“hey!” he gasped, slightly out of breath. “just in time!”

“you didn’t have to leave them to run to me,” you muttered embarrassingly. you shrunk a bit in front of felix to hide yourself from the glaring group of girls.

“but i want to be with you.”

you blushed deeply. what a charming prince. “you’re cute."

felix was the shy one now and walked ahead of you in some random direction. “let’s go!”

“but who are they?” you couldn’t help but ask after catching up. “are they your suitors?”

“yes and no... technically, they all are, but i’m free to choose whom i want to marry someday.”

“what makes them a suitor? are they royalty, too?”

“no. minimum requirement is they have to live here.”

“is that so? does that make me a suitor then, too?” you teased.

“w-well, you have to be a permanent resident to be a suitor, not a traveller.”

“ah, that’s a shame. i was going to say i’m winning.”

“you wouldn’t be wrong.”

being friends with the prince definitely had its upside.

you got to know the townspeople even better than you already had and you got free stuff mostly because both felix and the shop owners refused to let you pay.

you learned a lot about felix from the town tonight.

you learned that he was a prince everyone loved dearly, that he was kind to all his people, and it was like he denounced his princely title when he was amongst his people - he wanted to be just like everyone else.

“thank you, mr. choi,” felix bowed respectfully to the baker. “you always know my favorite snacks.”

“it’s really good!” you beamed happily after biting into the pastry.

“you never have to be so formal with me, your highness,” the baker chuckled. “you’re the prince, for god’s sake!”

“but i want to,” he pouted.

“well, i’m just glad i even had any of these left. i’ve been running really low on ingredients and stuff lately, and you know what’s crazy? so has everyone else! the han’s don’t have much metal left for weapons, the park fish market has been low on inventory, and the kwon winery got hit the worst! i’m surprised they’re open right now...”

“what are you saying?” felix asked, concern written all over his freckly face.

“the whole town thinks we have a thief.”

whoops.

now that a thief was being suspected, you’d have to lay off for a little while, but you don’t think it’ll be a problem.

“a thief? in our kingdom?”

“that’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?”

“i’ll alert my father immediately.”

“thank you, your highness. you’re so kind.”

for a moment, felix was frustrated and angry at himself that he didn’t even suspect anything bad was going on in his kingdom in the first place.

but when he looked at you, his anger seemed to melt away.

that night, you learned that felix adored you.

whenever you were talking to the shop owners, browsing through all the products, or bending down to talk to some children, whatever you were doing, his eyes were glued to you.

under the glow of all the string lights, you were even more beautiful the day he met you - now that he could see you clearly, of course.

everyone saw it. the town, his suitors, even you caught him looking at you a couple of times, but he wouldn’t look away from embarrassment.

his smile would widen to a cheesy grin then he’d look away.

who knew in such a short amount of time you’d get the loving prince to fall for you day-by-day, all because you fed cats together.

after the shops closed and people were turning in for the night you tugged on the prince’s sleeve.

“do you know what time it is ~?” you sang.

“our favorite past time together ~”

“our only past time together...”

“we can always change that.”

the cats meowed their song and felix treated them all to real fish and chicken instead of that kibble stuff he’d usually give them.

you couldn’t help but notices how furrowed his brows were which clearly meant he was thinking about the whole thief thing.

guilt was rising in your chest and now you were nervous.

“are you ok?” you asked him.

“yeah... no. no, i’m not. the thief thing is going to be on my mind all the time until they’re caught. god, i’m so angry! who would steal from these good, honest people!?”

“a terrible person...”

“you’re right.”

“do you have any idea who it might be?”

“no idea. what i do know is that they’re smart and highly skilled. there’s no way i’m going to find them...”

you take felix’s balled-up fists in your hands and he immediately relaxes upon your touch.

you can tell he’s unsure and nervous of what you’re doing, but you simply hold onto his hands and you receive a gentle squeeze in return.

“don’t worry too much, ok? it’s not your fault this is happening.”

“i know, it just... sucks...”

“you’ll catch them.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

felix released one of his hands to tuck some stray hairs behind your ear and kept his hand to your cheek afterwards, his thumb drawing gentle lines on the apples of your cheeks.

he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you, but he held himself back.

“hey, so there’s party that’s coming up that my father’s going...” he trailed off.

this was it. this was yours and big sis’s ticket into the last heist.

why weren’t you excited?

“it’s for his birthday and it’s an invite only,” he continued. “would you like to go with me?”

“hm, i don’t know ~” you teased. “will your suitors be there, too?”

felix rolled his eyes playfully. “yes, some of them will be, but i want to be by your side the whole night.”

“really...?”

“really.” he pulled out a formal invitation in fancy parchment and handed it to you. “will you go? please?”

“on one condition.”

“anything for you.”

“can i bring my sister? i rarely see her these days, since i spend all my free time with you.”

“of course she can come.”

“then i’ll be there, your highness.”

when you came home to your big sis, you threw the invitation on the table and nearly burst into tears.

“i can’t do it,” you muttered.

“what?” she seethed. “we’re so close! you put in so much work already!”

“the town already suspects a thief is here and taking their stuff, we’ll be caught and execute right away!”

“you knew the dangers coming into this, why are you surprised?”

and then it clicked in her head.

“you love him, don’t you?” she scoffed.

you don’t say anything.

“foolish girl. even if he does love you back, what will happen? you’ll leave me in the dust to marry him and live here happily ever after? what makes you think he’d love some lowlife traveller, hm? when he’s got suitors lined up for miles?”

god, you really wish she didn’t say that.

“listen. this is our last heist together. help me steal from the king, and i’ll leave you be here to live off your fantasy. but if you don’t i’ll tell him everything. your whole life, your purpose here, that you’re the thief - everything. so will you help me, or not?”

you only nod as a response.

“good girl.”

it was the night of the big party and you and big sis were dressed to the nines, thanks to the jewelry shops in town.

felix’s castle was beautiful. you could only ever dream of living in a place like this.

the great hall was decorated with all of the king’s favorite flowers and candles and all of the tables had piles and piles of meat on it, ready to be devoured.

big sis mindlessly made her way towards the king, where she’d wish him a happy birthday and the plan would move on from there.

just when the anxiety of being alone was creeping up on you, a hand swooped in to lace itself with yours.

a handsome felix looked down at you adoringly with sparkles in his eyes, drinking in every centimeter of beauty that was you.

“hi,” he said breathlessly. he bowed down and kissed the back of your hand like a true prince.

“your highness, you’re so charming ~” you gasped.

“only with you. shall we?”

you and felix sat at the far ends of the table where his parents also sat.

big sis sat right next to the king, playing with the vial of love potion under the table, smirking in the process.

she must have slipped it in already.

you still held onto felix’s hand before the dinner commenced and you must have been unconsciously squeezing it tighter and tighter as time passed because he’d steal side glances of concern at you from time to time.

you’d then immediately loosen your grip and give him a reassuring smile in return.

the air inside the castle was suffocating.

“a toast!” the king began, standing up and holding up his poisoned goblet. everyone soon followed his suit. “thank you all for coming to celebrate my special day. let’s eat and drink well tonight! cheers!”

“cheers!”

and so the king drank the potion.

the food was amazing - you expected nothing less from a king himself. but it was hard to enjoy it when you were eyeing the king and big sis talking the whole night.

when dinner was over, the real party started, and you thought maybe in the pool of all these people, you’d be able to slip away from big sis and never come back -

“will you dance with me?” felix asked.

he held out his hand for you to take and who were you to refuse an offer you once dreamed about when you were a little girl?

gladly, you took his hand and he guided you to the middle of the dance floor where he laid one hand on your waist and another held your own and you immersed yourself in this waltz.

“i didn’t take you as someone who knew how to dance,” you noted.

“it’s part of the princely package.”

the music had slowed and so did you and felix. now his hands were on your waist and he held you close, hoping you’d never slip away.

“when do you leave?” he asked the dreaded question.

“soon.”

“don’t.”

“what do you mean...?”

“i mean don’t leave. stay here, with me.”

“i can’t.”

“why not?” he begged. “do you not want to?”

“no! of course i want to, i just... i don’t think this was meant to be.”

“what...?”

from behind felix, you saw big sis whisking away the king to god knows where - probably to his chamber, where she’d tie him up while you and her did the dirty work.

you needed to stop her fast.

“stay here, i’ll be right back,” you said, breaking away from felix’s iron grip.

“where are you going!?”

“somewhere! i’ll be back, i promise.”

like a tragic ending to a fairy tale, felix watched you slip away into the empty mass of the castle. for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to follow you.

what was the point, anyways? when you didn’t want to stay here with him.

but your answer was so vague, what was he supposed to think of it?

before it was too late, felix ran off to find you.

it was easy to navigate around the giant castle when there were clear signs of how to get to the royal chambers. you figured the well-lit and finely-decorated pathways led the way to them.

from outside of what you assumed was the king’s master chamber, you heard the king muffle something you couldn’t understand.

she must have already tied him up.

you kicked the door open, only to reveal the king alone in the room.

“fuck,” you cursed. before anyone could see, you began untying the frightened king.

“_____...?”

your heart dropped when you saw felix standing in the doorway, looking confused.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

you ignored his question. “help me untie your father.”

he did as you told in silence, trying to piece together what or who you were. you weren’t telling him something, but he’ll figure it out soon.

conveniently, the king kept a crossbow near his bed for protection. so you took it and a bunch of arrows, ready to do something you thought you’d never have to do.

“what are you doing with that!?” the prince demanded after he released his coughing father.

“i’ll explain later -”

“no, explain it to me now.” felix was angry now, and you were frightened, but you had to remind yourself you were doing this for him.

“follow me. we don’t have much time.”

you left the chamber with felix following closely behind you, confused and frustrated.

“you have to tell me where you keep your everything - your coins, jewelry, gold - all of it, where do you keep it?” you asked frantically.

“why?”

“because the thief is here and we’re going to catch her.”

“what!?” he shrieked. “everything’s kept in a safe in the dungeon -”

“show me.”

felix led you a long journey to the dungeon to which you assumed you’d be calling home by the end of the night when felix found you out.

but that was the consequence of the heist, and you knew that.

the safe door was huge and opened just a crack where light shone through the opening. from just outside, you could hear big sis fumbling around, stuffing whatever she could in whatever carrier she brought with her.

you opened the safe just a bit more and aimed the crossbow right at her head.

her manic laughter echoed through the safe and beyond the dungeon, sounding like an evil witch or sorceress. even felix was frightened of her.

“has it really come to this?” she asked, looking at you straight in the eyes. “you wouldn’t really do this to me, would you? to me, your big sis?”

“what is she talking about?” felix asked.

“oh, your highness! don’t you know? _____’s the thief! we’re in this together!”

“what? _____, tell me she’s lying...”

you didn’t say anything.

“she did all ~ the stealing herself,” she sang. “of course, i was the mastermind behind all of this, but she did the dirty work! she really fooled you, huh? but like every fairytale, the thief fell in love with the prince, and now she’d do anything for him. even kill the one person who gave here life purpose.”

if big sis loved you as much as you loved her, you would have been more conflicted about your choices. but she didn’t and she only used you to survive off of the things you stole from good people.

you’ve never pulled the trigger on someone so quickly.

the arrow lodged right through her skull and she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

you dropped the crossbow and turned back to look at felix, hoping you could finally explain yourself.

but he wasn’t there.

so now you were alone again, at least for a couple of minutes before the guards got there to take you away and lock you in the dungeon, just as you predicted.

the cell was cold, dark, and lonely, but even this was more than you deserved.

you’re not sure how many days have passed by now, but you’d hope at least one of those days felix would have visited you, wanting an answer.

but he never did, and you didn’t blame him.

on what you assumed was the fifth day, your cell opened, and a few guards picked you up and dragged you out without any explanation.

when you left the dungeon, you’ve never been so happy to see the sun shining.

the guards took you to the great hall where the king, the queen, and felix sat on their thrones patiently waiting for you.

you were too embarrassed to even look at him, but his gaze bore holes into you, as if he was demanding you look at him.

so you did, just for a second, and in that moment you saw how hurt and disappointed he was at you.

you were thrown to your knees in front of the royal family.

“miss _____, is it?” the kind king asked.

“yes, sir.”

“it has come to my attention that you are the one that has been stealing from all the shops in town, is that correct?”

“yes, sir.”

“i see... normally, the sentence for something like this would be execution, but you did save my life and eliminated the woman behind all of is. for that, i owe you, so you are free to stay in this kingdom. if you are caught stealing again, you will be sentenced to death, is that clear?”

“yes, sir.”

“excellent. now get out of my sight.”

you struggled to get up, not used to using your legs just yet as you spent five days sitting on concrete.

the guards unshackled you, revealing bloody wrists and ankles.

you were free - from big sis, from the life you once live, from everything.

it should feel amazing. and it does at first, but now you’re alone again.

you have to leave.

after washing out the scum for nearly an hour, you were good as new, with only the scars left on your skin. you packed up anything that you could in a backpack, along with some of the stuff you stole, since it wasn’t like you were going to give it back.

you locked up the place and made your way towards the kingdom gates, ready to leave and never come back.

“you lied about where you lived, too?” you heard felix say from behind. “is your name even _____?”

you paused, turning around to see felix jogging up to you from down the street, where you told him you lived.

as he approached, your gaze was set on the floor, where it belonged.

“so you’re just going to leave without explaining anything to me? without saying goodbye? nothing?”

tears welled up in your eyes. how could you explain it to him? in what way could you explain this whole thing and have him understand? you didn’t think you even deserved a goodbye from him, so what was the point?

“say something,” he demanded.

“i can’t stay,” you muttered. “it’s not fair to you.”

“if i said i want you to stay, will you stay?”

“what?” you cried out. “i stole from you and i lied to you, why would you want that?”

“because you love me, don’t you?” felix’s voice was desperate, hoping that was the one thing you couldn’t have lied to him about. “i know that’s not a lie, am i right? tell me you love me, too.”

“of course i love you.”

“then if you love me, you’ll stay, right?”

“felix -”

“please,” he begged. he held your face in his hands and gently lifted your face up forcing you to look at him. “just stay for a while longer. we’ll talk about everything, just... please don’t go.”

“ok,” you nodded. “i’ll stay.”

felix let out a huge sigh of relief, pressing a long, loving kiss to your forehead.

“good. will you show me where you actually live now?”

the night was spent inside your humble home telling the story of your entire life before and during your time with big sis.

whether he understood why you are the way you are or not, you’re still unsure, but falling asleep wrapped up in felix’s arms had to have been a good sign, right?

#felix #lee felix #skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #royal au #these.... keep getting longer LMAo #i know i already did a thief and a prince trop #but idk i was inspired #blease tell me what you think cuz i tought this was meh i focused a lot on the reader and not so much felix :(

720 notes · View notes

fulokis · 6 years ago

Text

Burns| A Good Omens Fanfic

Crowley hadn’t been around, not even a single call had been placed in a month. Aziraphale wasn’t worried per say, but what happened at the Ritz or more precisely after the Ritz. Well Aziraphale wouldn’t be surprised if he pushed Crowley away perhaps for a final time.

Oh why did he do that? Why did he push him away again and again? Only this time it was different. Crowley hadn’t been so forward this time, he had been unsure. Aziraphale would even go as far to say he was anxious. Crowley was good at hiding it, but knowing a being for 6000 years tends to make one wary to all of their emotions.

What finally sent Crowley over the edge on that day weeks ago was when they were walking out of the Ritz. Aziraphale had slipped his hand into Crowley’s. Crowley had frozen in place while Aziraphale kept walking causing a few people to bump into them. Aziraphale turned back to talk to Crowley to see the demon slipping into his natural serpent form and slithering off.

Aziraphale sighed putting the phone down and heading up to the small flat above the bookshop. Locking the door behind him Aziraphale sighed and smiled at the crisp breeze coming through the open window. Being late September they still had a few warm days, the crisp autumn breeze made them all the more pleasant.

Aziraphale sighed to himself again, his thoughts not on the long day and the many bothersome costumers, but on Crowley. He knew that likely the demon already had his heat on and was freezing either that or he sauntered back down to hell for the winter. Crowley didn’t do that often but Aziraphale was starting to wonder if that was where he had gone.

Aziraphale took off his jacket and shirt. He stretched out his wings shaking a few feathers loose. The shafts of those feathers were still that bright sterile white of an angel . The very edge of the tips however looked newly singed, a charcoal color that shone in contrast. In fact both tips of his wings contained feathers that looked similar.

The angel sat on the small bed, picked up the alarm clock and set it for bright and early the next morning. Aziraphale turned off the light and slid to his stomach allowing both wings to sag over the bed onto the floor. He lay his head on the pillow and fell asleep rather quickly.

Crowley pulled up to the book shop slowly, much to the Bentley’s protest. Parking his car he let out a sigh. His shoulders were tense, his breath shaky. What would his angel think? He abandoned him with out warning. What if he thinks it’s a sign that he was being used for Demonic purposes? Crowley gritted his teeth and opened the car door carefully.

He looked both ways down the street, letting some of the tension slide away. They were truly alone, for a moment at least but Crowley knew that was more than enough time for them.

Walking up to the door he stopped hand out to prepare to open the door without powers. Something was different with his angel, he smelled ... dark, like dark chocolate. Overwhelmed with the smell Crowley stumbled back slipping on a stair and proceeding to whack his head on the concrete.

“Fuck.” He whispered “Who fucked with my angel?” Standing up and wiping the dust off of his clothes he headed inside the establishment. The chocolate smell overpowered Crowley again drowning out all the familiar smells of Aziraphale. He couldn’t smell the ink and old parchment. Or even the sterile doctors office smell that sometimes overwhelmed him.

Heading towards the stairs that led to the flat Crowley caught something else. Burning? No no no not again. Crowley rushed up the stairs and forced his way through the door. In his panic over them finding Aziraphale he hadn’t considered he might get stuck half way through the door.

Crowley nearly thanked the lord as he looked in the room. Instead of Hell fire he found nothing out of the ordinary. Instead of demons or other angles he only found his Aziraphale. He gazed lovingly at his angel sleeping peacefully, undisturbed seemingly fine from the weeks they had been apart.

Crowley tried to get out of the doorway to find he was stuck. As much as he didn’t want to wake up the angel from his slumber they had to move.

“Angel.” He said in a harsh whisper “Angel.” Aziraphale stirred taking one wing and wrapping it around himself but not coming to. “Aziraphale!” Crowley nearly yelled at the sleeping angel.

Aziraphale startled nearly whacked his wing into Crowley’s face. After looking around in a confused manner Aziraphale saw Crowley in the door and tried to keep his laughter in, succeeding only partly and letting a chuckle out.

“Angel, a little help?” Crowley asked clearly frustrated with Aziraphale. Aziraphale nodded still amused by the situation in front of him, and with a wave of his hand the door released Crowley, opened and patched itself up. Crowley took a step towards the Angel, “Pack what you can we’re leaving.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked baffled “You think I want to go with you especially after what happened and being ignored. I am not going with you for all I know is you’re working with Satan again.”

So he did think that. Crowley stood up straiter taking off his glasses and for the first time ever Aziraphale saw a glint of murderous rage in the demons eyes. “I am trying to help both of ussss.” He hissed.

“I don’t need you I’m perfectly fine right where I am.” Aziraphale tested the water, sure yes he was great full that Crowley was standing in front of him talking to him. But something was off about the demon, sure Aziraphale’s sense of smell was not nearly as strong as Crowley’s but there was something on him that smelled a bit like hand sanitizer.

Crowley hissed taking another step towards Aziraphale. Crowley was acting odd and it was intimidating. Aziraphale wanted to run he wanted to leave the moment but something wasn’t letting him.

“Get on with it then, kill me, torture me, slam me against the wall. Do what you want you don’t scare me.” Aziraphale said trying to sound convincing.

Crowley took another step and reached his hand out. Aziraphale was ready to put up a fight when Crowley clenched his fist put his arm down closed his eyes and turned away.

“They’re coming for you, they won’t stop until they kill you. They figured it out... what we did.” Crowley’s breath became shaky and Aziraphale realized he might be crying (or at least as close as he could be to crying). “... Good bye Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley left down the stairs. Damn it what had he done? Again and Again and Again he always pushed Crowley away. Aziraphale stood listening to the footsteps downstairs. He expected a loud slam, but the only thing he heard was the starting of the Bentley’s engine and a slow puttering away.

Where to now? Alpha Centuri? No he would be looking there. That is if the idiot actually payed attention. Hell? No. To heaven? No. Find a Church, with holy water, go past the point of no return.

The Bentley’s motions were soothing to Crowley, his car was really more of a home than anything. Crowley stopped at the stoplight keeping a low profile was key right now. He chortled at himself, he was obeying laws just so that they or that stupid angel wouldn’t show up and ruin his plan. The light turned green and yet he did not hit the gas he sat looking at his options.

Crowley waited thinking until the light turned yellow. It was only a couple minutes but it felt so long to him. Taking his phone and opening it he pressed the map app. Funny how he didn’t know where the nearest church was despite knowing a literal angel. Finding one he clicked on it hoping that it had some holy water.

The voice of the map rang through his ears. It had been about three weeks since the last time he had any noise playing in the Bentley. It distracted him for the moment as he drove away from his problems.

Long after the putters of the Bentley Aziraphale was still standing in shock. He didn’t know how to respond. Crowley seemed like he may have been trying to make up with him. Trying to be open. But something was blocking him.

Aziraphale sighed returning to the bed he lay awake counting all the times he had pushed Crowley away. Some of those times he realized happened before earth and before Eden. Maybe he still can’t quite remember who Crowley was before he fell but there was always a familiarity to him.

Beams of light shone through the window before long and Aziraphale sighed. Standing up and putting on new clothes he tucked his wings back in. He put on shoes and walked down the stairs into the book shop. He took in the smell of the books as he walked by to the front door.

Stepping outside he realized it had started to drizzle as a storm rolled in. Normally Aziraphale would have been happy and chipper as always, but the night before hurt to much for him to even put on a facade. He passed on breakfast, also an unusual occurrence.

Aziraphale just walked and walked. Letting his thoughts wander with no control and no idea where he was going. After a while he came back to his senses. Aziraphale found himself at a church, he supposed it made sense after all it was a Sunday morning. As Aziraphale approached the front door he nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Bentley sitting there driver stepping out.

Aziraphale could barely comprehend what was happening. No no no he can’t be he wouldn’t. Aziraphale thought in horror without really thinking he miracled both him and Crowley into the Bentley and locked the doors.

“What in the flying hell was that?!” Crowley shouted trying to unlock and open the drivers side door.

“You’re a fucking Demon!” Aziraphale shouted back “Churches could discorporate you, and I can’t bare to think what would happen if they threw holy water at you.”

“Oh so now you’re just suddenly going to care what happens to me? Issss that really the road you want to go down?” Crowley said growing more agitated.

“I’ve never stopped caring about you, you stupid demon!” Aziraphale said.

“Y-y....” Crowley huffed and decided to hiss a very long hiss.

Aziraphale waited a couple moments after Crowley had let his frustration out “Better?”

“No.” Crowley replied “No I’m not.” Before Aziraphale could reply Crowley opened the door and bolted out into the parking lot. Aziraphale expected him to head into the church, but instead he opened his wings and took flight.

Aziraphale knew he had really done it this time he had broken Crowley’s heart and he wasn’t sure that he would ever get him back.

“Shame you did seem to enjoy him.” A voice from the back seat of the Bentley spoke up.

Aziraphale looked in the rearview mirror to see Gabriel sitting there. “Gabriel,” he said dryly “I didn’t see you there.”

Gabriel chuckled “No of course you didn’t I just popped in after the demon left.”

“What could you possibly need or want from me?”

“Oh nothing from you directly. Don’t get me wrong you were decent at your job, sure some distractions came your way but you listened to instructions for the most part...”

“Could you please get on with it, I would prefer not to miss the service.”

“And not chase after your demon?” Gabriel taunted “You know if you agree to let’s say desk work we would like to have you back, after all your feathers will be returned to their pristine state.”

“You know my answer Gabriel.”

“Either way you will be useful.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Call back your demon before I discorporate you.” Gabriel held a knife in his hand and was showing it off.

“How is that supposed to make me scared?” Aziraphale replied “Disincorporation is something I can come back from.”

Gabriel smiled “So glad you agree, now I’m going to count to three call your demon back or I will stab you.”

“Stabbing me does nothing.”

“You really are thick aren’t you?” Gabriel replied “One ... two ... three.” Aziraphale stuck his wings out ripping his jacket and shirt in an attempt to deter Gabriel. The other angel saw it coming and ducked underneath the wings sticking the knife into Aziraphales side.

Aziraphale gasped in pain as the etherial weapon penetrated his side. Gold blood started oozing out of the entry point.

“I’ll be back to collect your boyfriend.” Gabriel said cheerfully disappearing in a thin screen of smoke.

Crowley had flown up to the top of the nearest building. He wouldn’t leave his car especially not at a church. He sighed watching the clouds move shivering. He hated winter and he hated cold rain. But at least it was peaceful. The clouds always fascinated him, and the wind caused the trees to shimmy. Perhaps the best part was it felt like he was the only person that mattered to him when he was up here.

A shrill noise disturbed him from his thoughts, “Blasted cars. SOMEBODY TURN THEIR BLOODY CAR ALARM OFF, IT WOKE ME UP!” He shouted hoping that the empathy humans carried would turn it off.

Suddenly in a gust of wind he caught a metallic smell. Similar to human blood but much heavier of a smell. Crowley’s stomach sank quickly. He could feel his gut clenching at the smell. Crowley knew exactly who that smell belonged to.

He didn’t waste time flying down to the church parking lot, instead choosing to miracle himself into the Bentley’s driver seat. Turning off the car alarm he turned toward Aziraphale. The angel wasn’t paying attention to him, but Crowley didn’t mind that meant it was easier to look at the situation.

The angel was using his right hand to keep pressure on the wound. His other hand rested on top of the right. Crowley started the car trying to stay level headed.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted giddily “I don’t think Gabriel likes me.” He giggled.

“Angel are you alright?” Crowley asked tenderly, paying attention to the traffic he was trying to turn into.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” Aziraphale took a finger and touched the tip of Crowley’s nose “You are so clueless sometimes my dear.”

“How much blood have you lost?”

“Doesn’t matter he stabbed me with a butter knife, I do hope he washes it before he uses it for tea time.”

“God damn it Aziraphale!” Crowley yelled as he changed a lane, surprisingly still under the speed limit. “How much blood have you lost?”

Aziraphale thought “Are you a vampire?”

Crowley hissed “Sleep” he said, causing Aziraphale to sleep. He didn’t want to do that he knew it was a risk, but his stupid Angel wouldn’t shut up.

They were about 20 minutes from Tadfeild when Aziraphale opened his mouth again. “Crowley?” He sat up a little straighter grunting at the pain “you can’t be here.”

“I know love just relax.” Crowley said offering his left hand for Aziraphale to hold as he drifted back to sleep. Crowley hoped that Aziraphale wouldn’t remember that when he woke up, after all he was mad at his angel.

“Anathema the Bentley is back!” Newt shouted from upstairs.

“I know I see it!” She shouted back leaving the house “Anthony Janthony Crowley I told you before and I’ll tell you again the answer is no I’m not going to figure out how to unburn the other prophesy book...” Anathema stopped dead in her track at the sight of Aziraphale. “Oh my god.”

“Can you help?” Crowley asked after miracleing them into the living room with Aziraphale on the couch.

“I think.” Anathema said standing up and grabbing supplies from the bathroom “It might not work considering he’s an angel.” She projected.

“How? I never said anything about him being an angel or me being a demon.”

Anathema smiled at Crowley as she spread the supplies out on the coffee table and began to address the wound on Aziraphale’s side. “White wings gold blood. Pretty obvious, plus you’re always talking about your angel under your breath.”

Crowley nodded “Makes sense.”

Aziraphale woke up with Crowley in his serpent form curled up and lying on his chest under his shirt. Aziraphale figured he was asleep so he lye there taking in the small room he was in, very soon a young woman walked into the room with tea and biscuits. “I remember you from Armageddon.” Aziraphale said.

“I remember you too.” She said “I’m Anathema, I’m glad to finally meet you Aziraphale.”

“How did you know my name? Are you prophetic?”

Anathema smiled “No not prophetic, that unfortunately did not make it down the genetic line. Crowley told me your name.”

“Crowley has been talking to you?” Aziraphale asked carefully sliding the demon out of his shirt and placing him on the back of the couch before sitting up.

“Well only asking for the book I burned and to patch him up when things got rough.”

“Burned book?” Aziraphale sat almost mourning the book he never met “Wait did you say patching him up?”

“Yes, sugar?” Anathema asked making a cup of tea.

“Two and a splash of cream please.” Aziraphale said grabbing a biscuit for himself.

“Crowley’s gotten in a couple fights with angels and demons the past month, I’m surprised that you managed to avoid the skirmishes.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, so that’s what he had been doing. “I haven’t seen him in a month. Then last night he decides he’s going to pop in and angelnap me.”

Anathema chuckled at the comment “He was trying to keep you out of it.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Wow you two really don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” A shrill voice behind Aziraphale asked.

Anathema smiled again “Tea?” She asked avoiding the question.

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Don’t know what?” He repeated sliding down behind Aziraphale.

“That’s a conversation the two of you are going to have to have.” Anathema took a sip of her own tea “Isn’t that uncomfortable Crowley?”

“He’s cold.” Aziraphale butted in.

“Yeah cause a stupid angel decided to put me in a cold spot.” Crowley grumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale chuckled “We best be on our way, I thank you for helping me with my wound and for the lovely tea.” Aziraphale stood up letting his wings show.

Crowley followed Aziraphale to the Bentley and stepped into the car. He sighed and turned on the heat to the car. Hearing the passengers side door opening he looked up in surprise to see Aziraphale come in.

Aziraphale took a deep breath “Thank you for coming back. I should have listened to you in the beginning.”

“Aw don’t go all sentimental on me angel. We’re both to blame.” Crowley was staring out the window. Aziraphale looked at the demons jaw line to find a hastily patched up scar. He reached out and rubbed it with his thumb. “Gabriel.” Crowley said “He caught me by surprise outside the Ritz.”

“Wait you mean...”

“Yeah. That’s why I stopped up I thought I saw him. Well I did, another step and the knife he threw probably would’ve been lodged in my chest. Started to shift as I saw it coming, still grazed me.”

“I thought...”

“Yeah I know what you thought Angel. And I don’t blame you.”

“Oh Crowley, why didn’t you contact me?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Why?”

“Well because... because...” Crowley was struggling on getting the words out instead trying to focus on anything that wasn’t in the car.

Aziraphale put his hand on the demons jaw and turned it to look in his serpent eyes. “Because you love me.” Crowley just nodded almost embarrassed by the thought “My dear, I feel the same way.” Aziraphale said as he pulled the demon in for a kiss. Aziraphale could feel the tips of his wings burning slightly and pulled away.

Crowley blinked and reached over to touch Aziraphale’s right wing, “Your wings.” His voice cracked.

“Yours too.” Aziraphale pointed out. The demon looked over his shoulder at the jet black wing, sure enough as Aziraphale pointed out the tips of his feathers looked almost pure white again.

“Angel I’ve got a question, what do I smell like?”

Aziraphale thought for a second “Dark chocolate, campfires, and dead mice. Why?” Crowley just smiled and stole another kiss from Aziraphale.

#crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #fanfic #first atempt #fulokis writing

21 notes · View notes

hayjeon · 7 years ago

Text

Snow and Ice 01 [m] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!

→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)

A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts)

also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k...i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy

“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene.

She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.”

You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?”

Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.”

You nod and throw the towel on the handle as you step up onto a machine. It’s 6am, but already, dozens of other athletes are busy at work, pressing the weight machines and cardio machines to life. You can see that the gymnastics girls are taking up most of the easy weights, and the hockey players fiddling with the heavier weights. Seokjin, one of the guys from your university’s snowboarding team, walks up to you with a smile, starting up the running machine next to yours, and matching your brisk walk.

“Good morning,” he grins, “How are you feeling?”

You roll your eyes, cracking your neck. “God, Jin, I wanted to kill the guys on the fourth floor. Literally, they’re the loudest herd of chimpanzees when they’re drunk.”

Seokjin laughs, upping his speed. “They made a bet to see who could drink the longest from the keg. It was interesting to watch but my coach would’ve killed me if she were here and saw me sleeping anytime past 1am. And even though our coaches can’t be here in the lodgings,” he shudders, taking a swig from his bottle, “I’d rather not find out what she’ll do to me if she ever knew the truth.”

You laugh, increasing your speed and matching his long strides with quick ones of your own. “Good thinking, you’re smart.”

He grins at you and the both of you ease into your daily routines.

Everyday is like this, even when you’re not in the Olympic village. This is your second Olympics, and your second time representing your country for women’s figure skating. Being said, getting here meant that every day was a routine, just like today’s, monkey boys living a floor above you or not.

Wake up at 5am, and cardio for an hour, stretch for 30, practice jumps on mats for 30, and then actually skating for another 2 hours, before returning to stretch out the sore muscles, and then finally getting to eat your first meal, which was probably a salad, chicken breast, and maybe a fruit smoothie if your morning cardio was more productive than usual. Then it was a bit of rest and loosening the muscles with a warm bath, and then back with weight training and more skating until it was night, and the lactic acid buildup was making your muscles all shaky and unsteady. Rinse, repeat.

It’s easy to throw popcorn at your tv screen and sneer, “Idiots,” when a representative of the country makes a mistake during the games. Somehow, everyone sitting at home in front of their televisions, munching on their bottomless fried chicken and coke became masters at whatever sport they were watching this time of year. But becoming an olympian meant that this was your life: training, practicing, and winning.

You amp up the speed on the machine into a full sprint as you think of the way you only got a silver medal the last time you competed. The bratty Jennie Kim had won the gold, and managed to shove it in your face every single time you two saw each other. She was here too, you could practically smell the hatred and the evil emanating off her skin whenever you were in a 50 mile radius of her.

You sigh as your music lets you drift off into a place, a place where you don’t have to think about how sweaty and tired you are already. The music that you chose this year for your routine was classy, and so was the show that you prepared.

It took months of training, and was also the reason you had to go so hard on cardio this year: there were four triple-axels, triple toe-loops you had to master during the routine, and that didn’t even include the two triple salchows towards the end of the routine. None other than Kim Yuna had attempted and succeeded at doing a routine like that completely without failing.

All while looking like a complete goddess.

Beethoven’s 9th symphony was a fairy-like, dainty work of art, with swells of the orchestra booming in the background to create an ominous feeling to it. To master this routine, you’d had to also go through hours of acting classes, to get “in touch with your deepest emotions,” like your coach Minho had convinced you.

Your mother had gotten her hands on the most gorgeous outfit, a turquoise, shimmering deep blue-green that make your skin glitter and shine and complimented your eyes and matched incredibly well with the silver accents and accessories embroidered onto the dress.

You don’t really remember how you got here. It just started as an innocent day at the rink, where you’d convinced your mother to let you do something more interesting than learning the piano or the violin, and she’d let you choose between gymnastics and figure skating. You were mesmerized by the pretty outfits as a little girl, so she’d taken you for lessons.

And then the lessons slowly became rehearsals for the junior figure skating team, and then your coach labeled you as team captain, and then you were being sent off to do shows all around the country. You were then competing and winning gold medals as fast as ever, and at the ripe young age of 17, you were crowned as the next Female Figure Skating Olympian to join your country’s team, to train and compete in the next winter olympics.

That was how you were thrust into this world of competing and working yourself to the bone at age 18. It just...sort of happened, and at one point in your little 18 year old life you did have a moment to turn around and survey how the hell you got here in the first place. But, it was too late, and you were way too invested, switching out hours of studying or playing video games or with dolls for training on the ice in your childhood to back out now.

Your workout comes to an end and you’re already sweating bullets and chugging down buckets of water by the end. Irene finishes a couple of seconds before you do and waits for you as you cool down and step off. You both take a couple more minutes to towel off and cool before you step into the mirror room, and begin to stretch. You place your ankle on top of the poles for steadiness and begin stretching your upper body, cooling down in the air conditioned room.

“Well if it isn’t y/n?” A voice sounds in the entrance of the stretching room and all the heads in the room turn to see who it is.

You don’t even have to look to know who it is.

He cockily wipes his face with a towel and throws it over his shoulder, spraying a steady stream of water from his bottle into his mouth as he saunters over to where you’re stretching. You roll your eyes and ignore him, switching sides and propping your other leg up 90 degrees as you curve your torso towards it with your hand stretched towards your toes.

He walks up to you and in the mirror, you can see the other girls in the room whispering and giggling at the presence of the handsome Olympian.

Jeon Jungkook. Age 22. Also his second time competing in the Olympics. Gold medalist if we’re talking about olympics, but all time World Champion in the Men’s Snowboarding medium and Guiness World Record holder for highest score last year, beating out previous record holders and his own best scores with the recent win. Endorses like a thousand snowboarding and athletic brands like Northface and Tim Burton. Also the owner of his own resort on the side. He was a celebrity within the Olympians, and also voted one of the hottest Olympians ever.

“Looking good,” he rakes his eyes up and down your body, grinning sleazily. “How long has it been, 3 years? 4 years?”

You huff as you take down your leg from the pole. “If you could ever for once figure out how to do math, you’d know that it’s been 4 years since the last olympics, Jeon Jungkook.”

He smirks when you finally respond to him, walking over to lean against the pole as you sit down and begin stretching your hamstrings. “Congrats on your win during the World Championships, I watched and cheered for you during it.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you here to make fun of my silver medal too? I have enough knowing grins from Jennie Kim to last me a lifetime.” You switch legs, leaning forward and pressing your knees against your chest.

He laughs, “Hell no, I would never dare to make fun of the ice queen.”

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s been calling you that since you can remember. “Get lost, Jungkook. Go do your weights or whatever.” You resume stretching, extending one leg far behind you as you sit comfortable in a split.

He stands, watching you from above. “Suit yourself. Know I’ll be back though.”

He walks cockily back, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which is completely stupid because he has a towel. It’s so obvious he does it to get a ruse out of the other gymnasts and skaters stretching in the room, which it does.

Irene inches up to you and joins you in your stretches.

“Don’t ask,” you groan and switch sides.

She shrugs, laughing at you in the mirror. “Wasn’t gonna. That exchange spoke for itself. He definitely has the hots for you.”

You roll your eyes and groan as you get up, and Irene joins you to help you stand and lift your leg up as high as she can reach, way up over your head. “Uh,” you cringe at the stiffness of your thigh muscles, “He does that to everyone. Seriously. I’ve seen him even give some of the referees sleazy looks. It’s just in his blood.”

She whistles as you switch legs. “Well whatever his blood’s doing, I bet it’s working real hard.”

“Ew!” You exclaim and laugh, letting her switch sides with you as you help her with her standing splits. “Never!”

She laughs, finishing her other side. “Alright grumpy, let’s go get you some breakfast before you rip my head off and get even more hangry.”

_____________________________________________________________________

You both get washed up and changed before heading over to the Dining Hall. It’s basically another stadium, with the lower levels transformed into a buffet style area and tables and chairs all looped together like high school all over again.

Hoseok, one of the male figure skaters, joins your table and Seokjin appears a couple minutes after, his plate piled high with all the food he could find at the buffet.

Hoseok cringes at the sight, “Jeez, dude, how many calories even is that thing?”

You and Irene peer over to see a buttload of eggs, rice, noodles, meats, and salad piled onto his tray. The both of you sigh at the sight, watching dreamily as Seokjin shoves the food endlessly into his mouth. It was your own personal mukbang broadcast.

“Uhhh two-touszhndf-mpmph” Seokjin mutters, and Hoseok glares again, cringing at the food that flies out of Seokjin’s mouth.

“Two thousand?” You balk, resting your chin in your hand as you push a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “Did you increase it since last time?”

Seokjin nods, washing his huge mouthful down with a swig of orange juice. “I don’t know what it is about this weather, but I’m starving.”

Irene sighs, setting down her cup. “God, I just wanna eat a big heaping bowl of french fries and a oozy, greasy cheeseburger right about now.” Hoseok nods in forlorn agreement and you nod too, pouting at the sad dressing-less salad in front of you.

Seokjin talks again, food flying, “They have some! Over there! Can’t you sneak one? Our coaches aren’t even here.”

Irene doesn’t even bother looking. She shakes her head. “No, it’ll affect our jumps. Really. Even the slightest bit of change in our weight will throw our center of gravity off. Plus, have you seen our outfits? They’re tight as fuck.”

You nod, sighing as you swallow the last piece of cabbage. “Mine’s so tight I have to wear a stick-on bra instead of having it padded, like normal.”

Hoseok cringes, “Hell ya, mine’s so tight I have to clench my ass cheeks everytime I do a sitting spin, or else the spandex gets too tight and gives me the absolute worst wedgie.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Guys, shut up. You know who has the worst, tightest outfits? The swim team.”

The three of you stop talking, and burst in laughter as Seokjin rolls his eyes. You imagine the swim team in their tiny little speedos, junk squeezed tight and asses practically fighting to get out. You snort, “HAHA, don’t those guys ever like accidentally moon someone or like slip out of those things? I feel like they’re so small on their hips, it’ll fit around me.” You giggle, and Irene joins you, laughing at Seokjin’s disgusted expression.

He’s about to respond when a voice interrupts. “Talking about the swim team’s speedos?”

You all turn to see Park Jimin, captain of the Men’s Ice Hockey team turn up with a few of his teammates to your table. He sets his tray down next to yours, and laughs when Irene nods.

Seokjin resumes, “Okay they’re not that tight, like I won’t lose any sperm because of it. They’re just...snug.”

Irene cackles. “How do you even know?! You’re a snowboarder!”

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Sometimes when you’re boarding you need a little extra waterproof protection.”

The entire table explodes into laughter and disgust, and you join in, finally feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“Man, this makes me remember how it was in camp all those years ago, doesn’t it?” Jimin adds, and you guys all reminisce to the high school days, where athletes would attend a “athlete-morale” camp over the summer every year, which was just a sorry excuse for job-less coaches to shove down inspiring speeches and “team-building” activities down your helpless throats.

A lot of you separate into your own conversations, launching into giggles and yells of memories you all shared together. That’s how you knew so many of the Olympians here. Even though you all had different schedules and different sports and areas of interest, somehow most of you had gathered at this camp every summer without fail. And every summer, the lot of you would suffer and bitch and complain together about how stupid and useless the lessons and activities were, and plot ways to escape your cabins at night to sneak away and do some drinking or exploring. Given, you drove your camp leaders crazy. They’d never seen a group of athletes like you guys, they said as they warily sent you home after a week of sleepless nights.

Jimin nudges you. “How have you been?”

You grin, turning to him, “Good, you?”

“Same as ever,” he grins, smiling the sweet smile where his eyes would crinkle.

“Actually you look a little different, you lost a lot of your baby fat.” You reach over and pinch his cheeks, and he frowns at you humorously as you laugh. “I remember we used to call you acorn because your face was so round.”

He groans, “Seriously, I never forgave Yoongi hyung for coming up with that name.”

You laugh, sipping your coffee. “I hear you and your team won silver in nationals, congratulations.”

He sighs, “Thanks, y/n, but you know in our world, only the gold is worth congratulating for.”

You nod, “I know how that feels.” Shrugging, he agrees with you, sending you a sad forlorn apologetic smile. He probably heard down the grapevine that you’d gotten silver.

“But at least this year, you’re gonna win gold right?”

You shrug, picking at your cup. “I don’t know...the routine is really hard and I’m still jet lagged and not feeling my best. I’m getting nervous, and that anxiety was exactly why I stumbled a bit during my routine last year and lost the gold to Jennie.”

“Ah Jennie,” he recalls, “Pretty, but sort of a bitch.” He shrugs, and Irene cuts in. “Sort of? Nope, she’s such a bitch.”

The two conversations between yours and Jimin’s and Irene’s with Hoseok and Seokjin merge as Irene rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, it was ridiculous. Jennie’s routine wasn’t half as great as y/n’s but there was a slight stumble, which wasn’t even a stumble, and Jennie won. Which is ridiculous because Jennie actually tripped and had to leave out a spin on one of her turns to make sure she didn’t actually fall.”

Hoseok tips his head. “Y/n, you stumbled?”

Before you can even answer, Irene does it for you. “It was literally just a slight stumble, at most she switched her blade and landed with a bit more spark than usual.”

You shrug, nodding at Irene to thank her for explaining it. You’d had to explain it way too many times now. “Whatever, it’s past now, and there’s not much I can do about it. We’re both here now, so it’s just important that I stay focused.”

Seokjin nods. “Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

Hoseok snorts, “How?”

Seokjin makes a funny face, “Didn’t ya’ll know that I’m a genius and got voted the #1 most handsome face of the Olympians? If anyone knows things like that, it’s me.” He says, and everyone chuckles at it. Same ol’ Seokjin.

“Speaking of which, here comes #1 most “daddy” Olympian.” Hoseok comments, glancing at the entrance of the dining hall. By instinct, you turn with Irene in your chair to see Jeon Jungkook sauntering in with the rest of his snowboarding team.

The guys are gorgeous, with languid body movements, but strong bulky builds underneath all their protective waterproof jackets. Their jaws were chiseled and their looked rugged in that hot way. Jaebum, the one on Jungkook’s left was Irene’s favorite for a while, and was handsome and charming enough to even appear on a couple of variety shows and drama cameos. The snowboarders were actual celebrities back home.

You roll your eyes and turn back as quickly as possible, but not before Jungkook’s gaze settles on yours with a smirk. “I don’t even understand how that vote was even cast.” You grumble, sipping your coffee. “Seriously, out of all the other athletes, Jungkook? Gross.”

Jimin laughs. “Well, who do you think would have been #1 then?”

You groan, cringing. “To be honest, you or Seokjin.”

All of you laugh as Seokjin pumps his fist, “Yes!” He cries out, food flying out of his mouth again, to Hoseok’s horror. “I knew it. Y/n think’s I’m hotter than Jeon Jungkook!”

“Shut up!” you hiss, laughing as you try to get him to sit down, but it’s too late. At the sound of his name, Jeon Jungkook is drawn to your table like a fly to a light and grins as he walks over. “Incoming,” Irene hisses as she smiles up fakely at Jungkook.

“I heard my name, are you guys talking about me?” He drawls, grinning as he perches a hand on the back of your chair. You ignore him and eat your yogurt.

Jimin laughs, lifting a hand to shake hands with Jungkook. “’Sup dude, it’s been a while. Lookin’ good.” He smiles and you watch in disgust as Jungkook laughs, tainting Jimin’s innocent and beautiful presence with an entire bucketful of gross cocky frat-boy confidence.

“I’ve been cutting a little bit, trying to not bulk too much these days,” Jungkook shrugs, flexing his arm a little to the delight of the gymnasts a few tables over. “I started getting a little less air once I started bulking up. But you’re lookin’ better bro, you guys training a lot?”

Jimin nods, clapping the teammate next to him on a shoulder lightheartedly. He grins his charming smile again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Yeah, our couch has been pushing us real hard these days, but it’s been working. We’re all at our best weights of the season, and feeling real good for the upcoming games.” He smiles at you, glancing sadly at your poor little salad. “Y/n, you must be having a hard time recently too, right? Coach has us on a strict diet, but yours is probably stricter, isn’t it?”

You sigh, pushing around your cold chicken breast around on the plate for both guys to see. “I eat less than a thousand calories per day, all divided into six tiny meals. Helps keep off the weight so that I can jump higher. I can’t remember the last time I had an all-you-can-eat korean barbeque dinner. Maybe it was when I was in elementary school? Legit over a decade ago.” You shake your head as you picture the cold piece of meat as a sizzling hunk of delicious pork.

It doesn’t help.

Jungkook laughs, inviting himself to take the empty seat next to yours, his arm draped over the back. “Well, I for one, think you have an amazing body.” He winks at you and you pretend to gag as everyone chuckles at the table.

“Gross!” you exclaim, pointing your fork menacingly at him. “Don’t you have some other girls to flirt with besides me? I’ve had enough fratboy for a day.”

He grins, hand splaying across your back, warm against your skin. “Trust me, y/n, you’ll never have enough of me.” He winks and bids everyone a dumb cocky drawled “Later guys,” and walks off with his boy band team.

Hoseok grins at you, “Was I high off my painkillers for a second or did Jeon Jungkook actually flirt with you and basically imply that he wanted to bang?”

You choke on a piece of lettuce as everyone around the table nods, Irene and Seokjin chiming in with a simultaneous, “Totally.” Before turning to eachother with wide eyes and high-fiving.

“Gross!” You exclaim again for the second time that morning, washing it down with a swig of water. “Me with Jeon Jungkook? I feel my ovaries shriveling up at the thought of sleeping with that frat-boy pig.” Jimin just watches you carefully.

Hoseok shrugs, “I bet if you sleep with him, it won’t just be your ovaries shriveling up. I hear he’s great in bed.”

“Ugh! God Hoseok! Can you like not?” You cringe, and he laughs.

“I can’t help it! He’s cute!! If he swung this way, I’d jump on that even before he could even know he was gay.”

Everyone laughs and shakes their head at Hoseok’s blunt gayness, and you just grin uncomfortably as you turn back to your salad. You look up to see Jimin just watching you with a shy smile as he continues eating without a word.

After breakfast, it was time to stretch a little more and actually start skating. You say bye to the rest of the crew and make your way to the gym again with Irene. You cringe, massaging your shoulder as you walk over.

“Fuck,” you mutter, kneading the sore muscles. “My shoulder is all messed up...”

Irene turns with a worried expression. “Oh shoot, I knew that not sleeping with a neck pillow would mess with your trap muscles. Did you bring your muscle cream with you?”

Rummaging through your pack, you frown, “No...shit it really hurts though.”

She pushes you towards the dorms. “Go and get it before we get on the rink, Coach’ll kill you if she finds out you didn’t treat it before getting on the ice. You know how she is. One little painful thing and she’ll go crazy on you and make sure you get it treated and ban you from the ice until it’s better.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t wait up for me!” You jog in the direction of the dorms.

It’s a bit chilly, but the cardio helps a little as you make your way up the lavish road towards the towering buildings. The olympic villages...were always nice on the outside, but pretty dumb on the inside.

Athletes were organized into country teams and shoved into tiny little apartments by gender, provided with college dormitory-style like rooms with two or three beds shoved into them with skinny little closets for your coats and stuff. You sigh as the dorm doors open to a rush of cold air, and scan your nametag before jogging over to the elevator, staring at your phone and logging your breakfast calories.

The elevator opens and you nonchalantly walk inside, but right before the doors close, a hand comes in and slams the door crevice, forcing the doors to open automatically. You frown at the noise and look up to see who it is, and your jaw drops as you see Jungkook smirking at you as he steps in the elevator. You roll your eyes and drop your neck back to your phone as your typing fingers become a little harsher at the screen of your phone.

He grins at you, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Trying to have some alone time,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at nothing in particular. He grins and somehow in his brain interprets it as an invitation to move closer and peer at your phone screen. “Sexting?”

“No, god Jungkook,” you yelp, twisting the screen away from him, “You’re still super gross.”

He laughs as the doors open and he trails after you. “This isn’t even your floor.” You grumble, walking down the hall towards your room anyway.

“This isn’t even my building, but you knew that already.” He shrugs, grinning at you. He knew you too well, and he knew that too. God, you just wanted to strangle him in that pretty little neck of his. You unlock your door and he hovers, watching you rummage around your room for the bright blue container of your muscle cream.

“So, you have a thing with the hockey player?” He leans against your door, eyeing you with a cocky smirk.

You huff and drop your duffel, giving up on finding the muscle cream you were positive you packed. Hands on your hips, you face him with a glare.

“Just because I exchanged a couple of words with Jimin doesn’t mean I’m dating him, Jungkook. I’m not like you, fucking the first thing he sees.”

He hisses between his teeth, throwing his head back as he chuckles. “Oooo that burned. Straight from the ice princess. You really chose your sport didn’t ya? Double meaning and all.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes and turn back to digging through the drawers. “Why the hell are you here? I need to apply my muscle cream.”

Grinning, he produces a condom packet from his pocket. “Guess what? These are Olympic grade. I would hate to waste them when they’re giving ‘em away so freely.” Shrugging, he gestures between the both of you. “We can see if they work as well as they’re supposed to?”

When you don’t reply, he grins again, letting the door shut behind him and lock as he saunters over to you.

“So whaddyou say, for old times sake?”

You groan, whirling around and facing him head on with a glare.

“Jungkook,” you grit, “we slept together twice. Four years ago. There is no old time’s sake.” You wave your arms dramatically.

He laughs, leaning back comfortably on your bed, and you groan. “Yeah it was four years ago, but equally as good. I mean,” he wonders, flipping the condom around in his fingers, “who knew that the goody little ice princess was actually such a freak in bed?”

You finally find the annoying little blue container and spin at him with hands on your hips. “Stop talking about that night. It never happened, okay? No one can know.” You twist open the container and unzip your jacket to reveal your sports bra and turn away from Jungkook to apply it.

He watches you struggle to reach the spot near your shoulder blade. “Need help?”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “No.”

He shrugs, “Your legs are flexible, but you know your arms not flexible enough to reach it and everyone’s out for training now. I’ll do it, no funny business.” He stands, and you glare at him but let him draw nearer as he takes the container from you.

“Turn around,” he says gently, and begins to slather on the cream into your shoulder and neck, rubbing it in so that the stickiness is absorbed completely into your skin. You wince as he rubs too hard and he apologizes, setting the container down and concentrating on not rubbing too hard.

“It wasn’t only four, you know,” he mutters, and you pause, frowning. “What?”

“We slept together twice four years ago during the games, but we also slept together a couple more times after that. Just not at the games.” He stops rubbing, and you jerk your jacket onto your shoulder again, standing up from the bed with a glare as you pack your backpack.

“Dont,” you warn, teeth gritted, “talk about that in front of anyone, ever. It could jeopardize our careers. Do you understand?! A few drunken nights together doesn’t mean anything! No matter how hot you think you are!” You storm off, jamming your shoes on and stomping outside.

The only thing you hear before the door slams shut is his cocky voice calling out, “So you think I’m hot?!”

Turn, Triple toe loop, land, Bielmann spin, stop, smile, turn again blade change.

You chant the routines in your head as you glide over the ice with the music. Although there were still 2 weeks left ahead of your actual performance, it was still crucial that you skated your program more than 10 times a day so that it was completely muscle memory by the time you stepped onto Olympic ice.

Your teammates watch carefully from the sidelines with your coach, who’s carefully scrutinizing your every move. You finish with a flourish, chest heaving as the swell of music ends.

Irene claps happily and Hoseok also joins her, cheering your name as you crumble over, hands on your knees as you heave with the effort of skating heavily for so long. Your coach steps onto the ice, patting your back as you put on your skate guards and take a seat.

“Good job Y/N,” she nods, stepping aside to let other skaters take to the ice. “Why don’t you go home today and stretch a little? You’re looking a little stiff.”

You nod, and on the corner of your eye, you see Jennie Kim step onto the ice. “Sure thing, coach, but let me stay behind and watch this one.” Coach Kim follows your gaze and softens. “Y/N,” she urges, “I don’t know if it’ll help you to watch her program.”

“It’s fine!” You reassure her with a smile and join Hoseok and Irene on the benches as the music begins.

Jennie was a phenomenal skater, everyone agreed. She was beautiful and thin and charming and knew exactly how to flirt on the ice. What you lacked in with performance skills, she excelled in with expressions and smiles, and what she lacked in technical jumps and clean cut programs, she excelled in making it look even more effortless and flirting with the audience enough to grant standing ovations and performing with a lot of emotion.

As the three of you watch her run through her program, she completes jumps and spins that you never expected her to be able to complete. “How the hell did she learn to do the triple lutz triple toe loop combo?! I thought last show she had to cut it out of her program because she couldn’t land it properly!” You hiss, and Irene shrugs, her jaw hanging open too. “I don’t know...” she says lowly, watching Jennie glide over the ice as if she were weightless. “That...that’s impossible to do within what...six weeks? Even Rose couldn’t do it like that.”

Hoseok gasps, “Oh my god, she faked that she couldn’t do it so she’d lower your expectations.”

You frown and watch her finish her routine, one she stops and gets claps from other people also watching from the stands. Your coach pats you on the shoulder. “Although her routine is a lot more complex than we thought it would be, if you execute ours perfectly, you’re bound to get a hell of a lot more points than she can. Your training is gonna pay off, don’t worry about it.”

Chewing on your lip, you nod, crossing your arms and worriedly walking out of the rink.

Your steps are heavy as you head towards the gym. Jennie and you had once been peers, two young girls who began skating together for fun and ended up enjoying it and being actually good at it. But then, somehow, somewhere within all the competition, you both had stopped doing eachother’s makeup and hair between performances, and instead had resorted to smirks and jeers as you challenged eachother.

Your gold medal or championship trophies matched the number of ones she had, and the both of you were neck to neck during every single match you could ever think of since you both became teenagers.

This was probably going to be your final or second to last Olympics, and then you would end up doing promotions for companies or becoming a trainer for the rest of your life. If you wanted to live comfortably, you would have to skate like your life depended on it, and Jennie did too. Whatever medals the both of you won today would go down in history and determine the next years to come. If you didn’t win that gold medal this year, you were determined to just retire before it became even more embarrassing.

The gym is full, with the sun high up in the air at 2pm. You can see a group of hockey players fiddling with the weights alongside the swimmers who were working the machines. The gymnasts and the female swimmers were already stretching in the padded room, and the running machines full of all types of athletes. Immediately, when you enter, the white shirt stretched over Jungkook’s back muscles is the first thing you see.

Ignoring the clenching feeling of anxiety in your gut, you head over to the stretching area to begin cooling off.

Feet out, leg as high up as you can, you coax yourself, mimicking what your coach would be telling you as of now. You can feel the stiffness, all the way back to your calves and the muscle cream from yesterday wasn’t helping all that much. Facing the mirror, you balance a hand on the beam and lean forward, lifting your leg up high far above your head as you balance on one foot, preparing for one of your spins.

Through the mirror, you see him come in, his head swiveling as he surveys the myriad of other girls stretching and then smiling wide as he jogs over to you, throwing his sweaty towel around his neck. Gross.

“So,” he says, leaning against the bar with a greasy smile. “Did you think about what I said?”

You roll your eyes and continue stretching. “How many times did I tell you that there’s absolutely nothing to talk about?”

“How many times after that night did you even have sex at all?” He scoffs, moving around to face you when you turn to switch sides.

“Did you like, even go out after that?” He prods, watching you stretch through the mirror. He wipes his sweat with the small hand towel, spraying some water from his bottle into his mouth and shaking out his sweaty bangs.

You switch legs, making another face when it strains a little. He notices, “oh, uh, do you need some help with that?”

You finally acknowledge him after twenty minutes of ignoring him. He was persistent, you had to give him that. Rolling your eyes you nod, “Do you remember how?”

“No,” he scoffs, but steps forward anyway, cradling your ankle in his larger hands. He’s hot, the cool temperature of the stretching area doing nothing to cool off his skin. He steps forward so the both of you are almost a hand width apart and places your ankle daintily on his broad shoulder. He then steps even closer, supporting your lower back with his hands and slowly pressing in to help stretch the calves and hamstrings.

You wimper a little because he’s almost an entire head and a half taller than your petite size and the leg on his shoulder is pressed almost to your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut you breathe in and out, the both of your bodies rocking slightly to accommodate the inflation of your lungs into your chest.

You can feel the heat emanating off his chest as he stands there looking down at you with the hardness of his body pressed up against the back of your thigh. It’s hard to not let your mind wander at that, flashbacks of drunken irresponsible high school days when you’d go to bed with him fucking you from behind and wake up to him kissing between your legs. And then you’d finish off with a nice hot bath and some good food. Back when you had no responsibilities, no worries, and no burdens on your shoulders.

The moment causes your mind to go a little hazy and in the fleeting few seconds of feeling vulnerable and the flood of hormones at the familIr feeling of his body against yours you whisper, “I haven’t” in response to his questions before. It’s too quiet to be heard over the high quality air conditioner whirring almost silently in the corner, but nonetheless his proximity lets him hear the two words.

He doesn’t say anything though, and lets your leg down from his shoulder and helps you get the other one onto his right shoulder. Rinse and repeat. But just as you open your mouth to say something more, a hand on the small of your back smooths over the curve of your hip and up your thigh and over to your ankle. Holding it delicately there, his hand grips it wth a firm and warm grasp, as he angles his head down to meet your questioning gaze.

“Me neither.” He whispers, and steps forward to press himself tightly against you. Your back presses against the bar and your hands flutter up from it to grip his forearms. You distinctly feel his hardness pressed against your belly.

“Seriously? Don’t lie to me Jeon Jungkook. The last time we slept together was months ago.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a glare.

“Do you…?” He trails off, and begins blinking like he does when he gets nervous.

The question lingers heavily over the hum of the running machines and air purifiers lining the training area.

His hands release your ankle and sets it gingerly on the ground, and he steps back, the warmth of his body and his chest and his hands and his breath leaving you all at once. You stumble a little back, your back resting on the bar.

Space, he was giving you space to decide.

You sigh, flexing your hands that are beginning to sweat. Your performance wasn’t for another two weeks. What did you have to lose?

Thinking about the way Jennie glided over that triple-toe-triple-lutz combination with no effort at all made you rage all the way inside, insides glowing hot from the annoyance of being fooled by her again. What was just one night of sex going to do? Your coach told you to relax and make sure you weren’t too stressed out and anxious...this...this was just an interesting way of doing it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping forward, gathering your things and heading out, as he jogs after you with a surprised look. “But on one condition, Jeon Jungkook. You cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Clear as ice.”

“Fuck,” you wimper as the the door slams shut behind you and Jungkook crowds your personal space. He’s breathing heavily, yanking harshly at your jacket zipper until it falls to the ground and your sports bra is all you’re wearing on top. He unzips that too and lets it fall to the ground, kissing you senselessly, lips moving against yours and drawing out your breaths and moans.

“God I missed this,” he breathes, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you tongue at his neck as he sets you on his bed and strips off his jacket. “Did you miss me too?” He smirks as he sucks on your nipple crewdly and you moan in response, hips bucking up into his.

“No--oh my god” you keen when he yanks down your legging and rubs at you through your underwear. Your hand flies down to grip his wrist, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. “Oh-- fuck, please don’t stop.”

He just chuckles and yanks your underwear band aside to reveal your dripping core, sliding his fingers in you with no obstruction at all. “Oh shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he grumbles, nipping at your breast as you mewl and twist under the onslaught of sensations.

“Take your pants off,” you breathe, panting harshly as he kneels up to peel his shirt off, revealing white milky skin, textured with taught lines and lean muscle. You help him untie the strings on his sweatpants, nimble fingers working desperately at the waistband until Jungkook gets impatient and just yanks it down his hips along with his boxers.

While he grabs a condom, you yank off your panties, pushing him to sit up against the headboard of the bed. You straddle him, throwing a thigh over his hips and resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

Were his shoulders always this broad?

You shake away the thought as he grips himself and guides himself to your center, rubbing his sensitive tip against your wetness and smearing it around to make it more comfortable. You busy yourself with sucking a hickey against his collarbone, licking and biting until the clean flesh becomes red and inflamed and shiny with your spit.

“Ready?” He breathes out, pupils blown out as he pants up at you. You nod and lower yourself on him slowly, and Jungkook moves his hand from gripping himself to settle and help you guide your hips down onto him. The both of you moan when you bottom out, panting and gripping each other desperately. When the stretch isn’t so bad, you rock your hips slowly back and forth, not yet bouncing up and down on him yet.

The movement stimulates your clit against his pelvis and you moan, throwing your head back and looping your arms around his neck as you continue to swivel your hips on him. Jungkook sits there, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you with a slight smile on his lips. His hand raises to curl your hair over your shoulder, his hand following and resting on your neck as he leans down to kiss against your neck, tongue laving heavily, hot and wet against your skin as you cling to him.

He’s marking you too, focusing on the area right where your jawline meets your ear and nibbling against it, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, making you moan. “Jungkook,” you whine, and he seems to understand what you’re asking for when his hand settles on your hips again and he begins to guide you up and down his length.

The extra stimulation gets him going and he cringes. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grits his teeth and his hairline begins to dot with sweat at the effort. “I...I’m gonna cum s-soon.”

“Already?” You gasp, opening your eyes to ask him. He nods, biting his lip as he groans, his jaw falling open. “I-it’s been a r-really long t-time. And you feel s-so fucking good. Hngh.” He groans as you squeeze around him in response to his praise.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Just wait for me, hold on.” You reach down and rub your clit in wide circles, gathering the wetness from where you and Jungkook meet, and pressing into your clit with the pads of your fingers. Jungkook just buries his face into your neck, panting harshly against your collarbone as you continue to swivel your hips, moaning and rubbing like your life depended on it.

With the feeling of Jungkooks lips on your nipples and his hands roaming your body, and his dick reaching parts of you that your fingers can’t even think of stimulating, and along with the 7-month-long hiatus from sex with him, you find yourself reaching the edge fairly quickly.

“O-oh shit, Jungkook,” you whisper, letting him take over in rubbing circles on your clit, “I-I’m gonna---” You bite down on his shoulder, dampening the moans that tumble out of your mouth as you topple over the edge. At the sensation, Jungkook cums almost simultaenously as he finally lets himself go, and his moans spur you on as you quake over him and both your hips stutter at the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

You pant and tremble as the sensations run through your entire body, your eyes rolling back as you moan and mewl and say whatever the fuck is coming out of your mouth right now at the feelings. But apparently it’s not completely and utterly horseshit that you’re muttering right now because Jungkook rocks up into you, riding out his own high and groaning your name loudly as his orgasm subsides.

He laughs a little when he finishes, and the action makes him move a bit inside of you and you cringe, muttering a “ew you’re so sticky,” as you climb off of him. He stands after you, following you into the shower and flushing down the condom. Grinning and leaning against the doorway, he watches you climb into the shower and hose down your body.

“How the hell were you hooked up with your own room? And bathroom?” You mutter, using the body wash there to clean off all the sweat.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn, but a hand snakes around your waist. “Let me,” he murmurs, grabbing the soap from you and running along your back, his warm hands scratching over your skin. You let your head fall back at the sensation as he focuses a little too much on your breasts, swirling over the nipple with circular motions and gentle hands. “Again?”

“Let’s save water,” he grins and you let him.

You don’t save any water that day. It was 44 minutes too long.

“Let’s go get some food,” Jungkook whines, as you both finish, collapsing on the bed with panting breathes as you come down from your high. His hands cradle your waist as you take a moment to gather yourself before you prop yourself up.

“Huh?” You wrinkle your nose down at him, propping your arms on his chest.

He laughs, sitting up and grabbing his shirt. “You said you were hungrier earlier. And we barely ate today, after gymming in the morning. I’m starving,” he whines, pouting at you and you laugh, rolling off of his bed to grab your clothes.

“I can’t,” you whine, pouting at your belly and poking the skin there. “If coach finds out I’m eating anything other than the diet we’re limited to, she’ll kill me.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging on a hoodie. “Oh god,” he groans, pulling on his baggy pants with easy. “You’re literally skinnier than some models that I’ve slept with.”

You glare at him when he mentions the models and he laughs guiltily. “Sorry,” he grins, “But it’s true. You can afford to eat whatever you like. C’mon, just one meal won’t hurt.”

You sigh, pulling on your leggings and a clean pair of underwear. Somehow...you ended up having a stash of underwear hidden deep within Jungkook’s drawers.

“Fine,” you grumble, but the grin on your face says otherwise. It’d been ages since you ate anything other than the planned dietary foods prepared for you by your coach and parents. This...this time wouldn’t be too bad. No one would notice.

“Where’s my phone?” You grumble, digging through the bedsheets and your bag as you search for it.

Jungkook shrugs, shaking out his hair. “I’ll meet you outside, gonna pee before we go.”

You shrug him off and he leaves, and you finally find the device and slip it into your pocket. You also grab Jungkook’s really baggy hoodie and pull it over your thin workout spandex long sleeve and leggings, relishing in the way his smell floods your senses as the warm and soft fabric tumbles down your body all the way to your mid-thigh. Grinning, you turn to open the door, calling out, “Jungkook I--”

Standing down the hall, with a packet of yogurt hanging from his lips and eyes as wide as yours, is Seokjin. His hand lingers on his doorknob, and he balks at you as you stand in Jungkook’s single room, in his clothes, and takes one glance at the messy room full of your stuff and mussed up bedsheets, and connects the dots immediately.

“Seokjin...” you breathe, eyes darting to the main entrance.

“What the fuck?” He sputters, pulling out the plastic packet from his mouth and stomping up to you. “You’re the girl that Jungkook’s been fucking?”

You bite your lip, trying to rack up any excuse, but you come up blank. “Oh my god, Seokjin, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Irene, if coach finds out she’ll kill me---”

He whisper-yells at you. “Have you even met our coach? He’ll rip our balls off one by one if he knew Jungkook was slacking off in any way.”

“Also,” he adds, frowning, “How dare you?! I thought you said he was gross.”

You grin sheepishly. “It just happened...the stress and all, and there’s a lot of time in 3 weeks for 24 hours...”

He shakes his head trying to get the image of you out of his head. “God,” he hisses, “I’ve been trying to set the two of you up for years! And all you two did was give me shit for it. Little did I know you two were already getting it on,” he glances behind him, to the vicinity of his room, whipping back around to you furiously. “And right next to my room?!”

You sigh, gripping his arm. “C’mon Seokjin I know you won’t tell, but I need you to say it out loud. Please, promise me you won’t tell.”

He sighs, groaning at you before relenting. “Alright, fine. But only because you gave me really yummy vitamins next week and medicine for my constipation.”

You grin, reaching up to hug him. When he leaves for his room, Jungkook finally emerges from the restroom, grinning. “Whatcha two talkin’ about?” He grins, cocking his chin at Seokjin’s door.

You march up to him, punching him hard. He doubles over, winded. “What the fuck Jungkook?!” you hiss, “I thought you said no one’s home before 3!”

He winces, groaning and clutching his stomach. “Jeez woman,” he croaks, “Who the fuck taught you how to punch?”

You smirk, “Get up. I’m hungry now.” He grins as he leads you to the front door. He reaches down and pulls the hood of his sweater up and around your head, bunching it low over your eyes. “Good,” he comments, doing the same to his own. “We can’t get caught sneaking out. I know of a way.” He winks and leads you down the elevator and towards the edge of the campus.

“Where?” You hiss, jogging after him.

He grins at you, pulling you alongside him with a warm hand that curls around yours. “Just trust me.” He walks straight for where the trash deposits are, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of rotting food and boxes of cardboard strewn messily in the garage. But in the corner, you can clearly see a door marked with a red EXIT sign.

“That’s the only one that doesn’t lock, all around campus,” he explains, slowly and gently opening it and glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before jogging out with you. “The others have cameras or guards, but this one I guess was forgotten with all the other construction that was going on.”

You hmm in agreement and relish in the way Jungkook’s hand feels against yours. It’s a lot bigger, and his long fingers curl all the way to the middle of your palm, where his thumb strokes gently and warmly against your smooth skin. Feeling the way your hand is freezing cold, he pockets both your hands in his jacket pockets, nesting both your hands in the warm comforts of his down jacket.

After a bit of walking, you make it to a decently crowded pedestrian area where he leads you to a corner of the street, where a tiny snack shop sits. Your mouth waters at the sight of a couple people inside, drinking hot soups and chowing down on instant ddukbokki’s and kimbap’s and ramen bowls that made your stomach churn with anticipation.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as Jungkook grins at you and leads you up to the stands, taking a seat in the corner. He still doesn’t let go, letting your intertwined hands rest on the plastic foldable table. “How did you find this place?” you whisper, after he orders a heaping pile of food for the both of you.

“It’s a secret passed down through the snowboarding team for generations,” he winks, grinning when the cook brings over a steaming pile of rice cakes and korean pancakes and kimbap for you both to start on. You use the skewer to grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, humming and grinning at the wonderful taste of spicy and sweet that bursts within your mouth. Moaning at the sensation, you skewer a few more pieces into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he explains.

“The hyungs would sneak out every chance we get. Our coach is a little...stiff and strict, but he lets us do this sort of in an apology for how strict he usually is.”

You nod, chewing and washing it down with a sip of hot soup. “And does he come with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, using his free hand to grab a kimbap and chew on it. “Nope, he lets us have our thing. It’s like a tradition. I think this year, the team plans to come back here at least a few more times before we have to go back.”

You grin, happily finishing up the plate of rice cakes. Staring at the empty bottom in horror you gulp. “Oh shit, when did I finish this whole thing?” You frown, trying to count the calories in your head. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” Dropping your skewer, you feel tears of shame brimming in your eyes.

Jungkook just frowns and shakes his head. He calls out for another order and you protest, but he just retorts, “Even the people with the best bodies let themselves have cheat days for goodness sake. You need this, Y/N. Don’t just de-stress with sex, rejuvenate with some food too.”

You melt under his worried words and grin, sheepishly nodding when he hands you a new skewer.

“Thanks Jungkook,” you whisper, taking another sip of the delicious ramen. “I love this place.”

He grins, his hand curling around yours tighter.

Once the both of you finish eating, he takes you around a bit more to explore, and then the both of you stumble back into his dorm.

“Oh my god,” He mumbles into your neck as you unbuckle his jeans and slip a hand down his boxers. “Your hands are freezing,” he grits, licking and kissing at your neck as you pump him tightly in your fist.

You giggle, letting him undo the zipper of your jacket and slide your jumper off of your torso. His hands fall heavily on your breasts, cradling them and letting their weight fall into his palms as he presses you into his warm bed. “Yours too,” you pant, the end of your declaration hitching up into a moan as he moves his mouth down to suck harshly at your nipple before tenderly running his warm tongue over it.

“Let me warm you up,” he moans, and you remove your hand from his pants as he gets busy getting rid of yours. Once completely off and your leggings and panties thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, he hikes your thighs up over his shoulders and licks a warm stripe up your slit.

Your head falls back onto the pillows, abs tensing as Jungkook gets to work, his warm mouth and tongue laving all over your lips and slit, maneuvering in patterns that make you twist and turn like putty under his hands. Your own hands are gripping at his forearms crossed over your belly, anchoring you to the bed, nails digging into his cold skin and scratching at the nape of his neck where you hold the strands of his hair tightly.

“F-fuck,” you moan, hips jostling against his arms, “I-I can’t...Jungkook, just put it in...” you beg, core clenching as he boldly pushes you right up against the point of tipping over. But no matter how good you taste and how beautiful you sound and look right now, Jungkook also agrees that the best way to watch you cum is when you’re writhing underneath him.

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you.

So he licks one last cheeky stripe up against your clit, the rough pad of his tongue stimulating you enough to make you jump before he gets up, carding off his shirt and pants as he climbs up your body and meets you in the middle with a sloppy kiss.

He hastily puts on the condom and slides into you with no intrusion, settling his warm weight on yours, chest against yours and hips gently rocking into your core. You moan and clutch at him desperately, throwing your arms around his neck and curling your legs around him like a vice.

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan of your name, stuttering, “Sh-shit, don’t clench, y-you’re so fucking tight,” he grits, and when you see the way his jaw tenses in the effort to not cum too fast, you can’t help but lean up and nip teasingly at his ear and scrape your teeth against the sharp jawline.

“C’mon,” you whisper, whining as he begins rutting into you faster, “Hurry,” you moan, and Jungkook leans up, detaching from your neck to sit up a bit better and piston his hips into you, angling himself just enough so the tip of his cock slides and taps right against the spot that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You moan and pant and whine like an animal in heat as Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow, and gets this steely look on his face as he drives home.

The both of you finish, eachother’s names on the tip of your tongues and moans as you huskily whine and pant, bodies trembling with the overexertion of so much sex and the overwhelming pleasure of both your climaxes.

Jungkook collapses on you, breathing heavily, and you let him stay there, kissing small innocent, apologetic kisses into the soft flesh of your chest as he comes down from his high.

You begin giggling, as he does so, cringing a bit from the oversensitivity of the orgasm and laughing at the tickling feeling of his lips smoothing so softly over your skin.

“One more time?” He asks, and he instantly feels the way your breath hitches and shudders at the suggestion.

You smirk down at him, bringing him in for a kiss.

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips, smiling as he grins and meets you halfway again.

You didn’t go home at all that night.

tbd!

#bangtan bookclub #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #jungkook #writing #fics #snow and ice

2K notes · View notes

ihaveatheoryonthat · 7 years ago

Text

Some Time to Think it Over

Warnings: Hellbent spoilers, but that’s about it.

Arthur woke up in the back of a semi-truck.

Normally, that would be bad news, but he had the distinct impression he’d narrowly escaped something worse. For several foggy seconds, he watched as the shadows playing over the sides of the trailer shifted and tried to make sense of anything that was going on.

The truck seemed as good a place to start as any. He didn’t remember working on any semis recently, let alone have any business in the back of one. His head throbbed and he moved to investigate, but only one hand responded; he gave the prosthetic a flat look. So they were playing that game. What was it this time? Mechanical failure? Electronic?

The light source abruptly stopped and moved the other way and, startled, Arthur whirled around to keep it in front of himself.

Oh shit. The ghost. It had caught up to them, hadn’t it?

It didn’t seem to notice his return to the waking world, re-tracing its path along the length of the truck like nothing had changed. As it drew nearer Arthur could make out a steady stream of vocalizations, and even though he could pick out the occasional bit of English mixed in, it was too inconsistent to make any words out—too fast, too indistinct, switching rapidly between languages that Arthur could almost recognize and something that sent a thrill of fear down his spine.

He took several instinctive steps backwards as its path brought it just a little too close, until his back hit the other side of the trailer. It… didn’t look like it had calmed down since the last time he’d seen it; while it wasn’t exactly obliterating its own haunt this time, flames spat fitfully from its shoulders, warding away even the smaller ghosts that seemed to follow it. Its free hand balled into a fist and, haltingly, creaked open—it didn’t even uncurl its fingers all the way before clenching it again.

Arthur’s eyes flicked toward the trailer’s door—the shutter wasn’t fully drawn. It would make for a loud escape, but an easy one. If he waited until it was at the very front, he might have enough of a head-start to—

The ghost turned on its heel; its followers hastily moved out of its way, and then made to keep trailing after it.

Inexplicably, Arthur’s nerveless fingers itched to reach for it. Where the urge came from, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was almost glad his prosthetic was malfunctioning, just because it meant he was only half as likely act on the impulse.

A wordless growl escaped the ghost’s nonexistent throat, underlying its frantic muttering for half a second. If the situation had been more appropriate, Arthur might have wondered how that worked, even for a paranormal being, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flame-wreathed hand that flew to its skull.

Just for a moment, the sight of its open palm made the world fall out from under him.

He—he really had to get out of here. The sheer amount of fire in this truck was a hazard, never mind the fact that it was responding to an emotionally unstable ghost. His first—only—plan had been a good one. He should just run with it. Literally.

His feet didn’t obey. He made it two steps away from the wall, but the instant he made to turn, it was like he’d been weighed down—like he didn’t just have one useless limb, but three.

(And for the second time in his life, his arm betrayed him.)

When the ghost’s path brought it nearest, Arthur’s prosthetic shot out towards it. He only grazed its sleeve before one of the followers snapped at him, but it was enough. He could actually feel the spark that trailed up from his metal fingers, shocking the sense back into him.

He remembered.

The ghost—Lewis—didn’t respond at all, dark eyes unfocused, hair spitting embers whilst he spat furious Spanish to nobody in particular.

If the ghost was really Lewis (he remembered. He remembered kicking at thin air, desperate to find purchase wherever he could. His arm moving so agonizingly slowly, a burst of flame that left something more than ash in its wake.) then—then he had died. And he had tried to—tried to—

‘Tried to scare him’, said some little liar in Arthur’s head, and for now, he chose to believe it.

The cave was gone. The stalagmites were gone. Right now, there was a truck, empty save for Arthur, his best friend, and a handful of anxious ghosts. He’d been searching for months. Now, when he had the answers right in front of him… there were more important things to do than remember— (oh god, he was going to fall. He was going to die here).

He forcibly pushed the thought away. Not now. Soon, maybe, but not now.

“L-Lewis?”

It was impossible to miss the way the hand still clutching at Lewis’s skull shook; he snarled something incomprehensible and oh-so-wrong to Arthur’s human ears, but it wasn’t a response. He only noticed because he’d been looking for any indication that Lewis had heard him, but almost as soon as the outburst died down, it was succeeded by something that might have been a whimper.

“Lewis! C’mon, can you hear me? Look at me!”

He froze in midair, though his hands still visibly trembled, and whipped his skull around to look at Arthur. Pinpricks of light bored into him, so small that he’d almost assumed the eyes trained on his were empty.

Arthur took a deep breath and acknowledged the fact that, yes, this was the same ghost that had made three separate attempts on his life, but he couldn’t let that scare him away. Something was obviously wrong—even ignoring the fact that the Lewis he knew would never entertain the idea of hurting someone, there was still the undeniably distressed behavior. He had to be missing something here.

They stared at one another for half a second before Lewis barked something at him. The meaning was clear, and, between the otherworldly language Lewis had said it in and the tone he’d used, part of Arthur really did want to make a break for it. He could feel his legs wobble, but stood his ground.

Eye sockets narrowed at him and, in the exact same tones, Lewis bellowed, “Leave!”

It was almost enough to make Arthur obey, in spite of his conviction. Though his voice was still distorted, it was recognizable—and in English, colored with such alien hostility, recognizable and uncanny. That wasn’t how Lewis spoke or acted. Arthur had never—

...no. He had heard that timbre before, just once. They'd been running from a pack of something that weren't dogs, and Arthur had been cornered. Up until just a second ago, he hadn't been sure whether Lewis's intention had been to scare the not-dogs off or draw their attention, but now he knew. If the creatures had been there with them, he was certain they'd have fled towards the gap in the door.

He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the thought was encouraging. There was still someone vaguely recognizable in there. He took a tentative step forward.

Lewis backed off.

“Lewis, wait. C’mon…”

“What are you doing? Nothing happened! Just go!”

He spared a thought for the odd claim and then took another step, to the same response. Lewis let go of his skull to wrap the arm around himself instead. Any other time, Arthur would have taken the hint and let the topic die, but today he couldn’t do that.

“There’s nothing for you here! Leave me alone!”

“There’s nothing…? You don’t actually expect me to buy that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Lewis snapped, “I don’t know what I’m—what you’re—“ He broke the sentence off with a frustrated grunt and shifted his stance again, moving to feel blindly for the semi’s front wall.

As soon as he processed it, Arthur lunged, catching him around the wrist before he could escape.

He expected resistance. He did not expect Lewis to stumble the rest of the way backwards, or to start trembling so badly that it alone nearly shook Arthur’s mechanical grip. Out of desperation, Lewis yanked his arm upwards, over Arthur’s head, and managed to lift him up off the ground instead.

The instant his feet left the truck bed, Arthur felt himself go limp. His gaze immediately dropped, searching for the spikes below. Metal met him instead, less than a foot down from where he was hanging in the air.

Right. Right. He was the one keeping himself aloft this time. Even if he let go and fell, worst case scenario, all he’d do was land on his ass. Didn’t mean he was looking forward to it, but it wasn’t exactly fatal.

He took a deep breath and looked up, where his best friend flinched away from his attention. Lewis gave his arm a pitiful—though, admittedly, deliberate this time—shake and made a futile attempt to slink further away.

Earlier, as he stalked up and down the truck, it had been impossible to tell whether he was angry or scared. His behavior since had indicated the latter more than the former, but until Arthur had seen his face—not just the skull—he hadn’t realized just how far the balance tilted.

Lewis looked utterly terror-stricken.

Without a thought for what he was doing, Arthur reached out in a gesture of support.

With a half-strangled sob of “No!” Lewis dropped his arm, landing Arthur—as predicted—right on his ass. In spite of Lewis’s ability to defy gravity, Arthur somehow managed to drag the both of them down, and the strange new vantage point gave him a very brief look at something stony grey and deeply cracked. Whatever it was, when Lewis righted himself, he deliberately angled it away, never once tearing his gaze from Arthur’s prosthetic.

He tried to pull away again, but it was different this time—not the desperate bid for freedom from before, or even to test Arthur’s grip. It was almost like he’d made to move it and just forgotten he couldn’t, which made absolutely no sense, because…

Actually, now that he thought about it, the whole time, every shift in body language he’d watched had been the work on one arm. He hadn’t even noticed that the other stayed stubbornly tucked against Lewis’s chest. If he’d been so violently opposed to being touched, why hadn’t he just used his free hand to pry Arthur off?

It was almost silly to ask—the answer had almost literally been dropped in his lap. Lewis was holding onto something, trying to protect it.

He didn’t think he’d be able to get an answer from Lewis; apart from somehow keeping him from leaving, Arthur was in no position to force a reality warping ghost’s hand. That was okay. It only took a few seconds to narrow it down.

The grey lump he’d gotten an eyeful of had once been a little golden heart.

There was no world in which that could be a change for the better.

But realistically, there was no way Arthur could do anything about it. Not right now, when Lewis was defending it so vehemently. It… would be okay, right? It had broken before, and been mended, hadn’t it? He felt certain that it had thrummed gold in the phantom cave, but doubt lurked just below the surface. He’d had only a second to process what was happening between being grabbed and dangled over the side of a cliff—and, while it was infinitely more pleasant to try to focus on the heart, that wasn’t where his attention had been at the time.

He shuddered and tried to move on for the time being. It was all too recent for him to process, and too much for Lewis to handle at the moment. The problem would either correct itself, or keep until it could be addressed.

Somehow, he wasn’t quite able to believe the liar that had taken up residence in his head on that one.

A sharp and wholly unnecessary breath next to him alerted Arthur to the fact that, during his brief venture back to the stone outcropping, he’d subconsciously grasped for whatever he could reach. Which would still be Lewis. He turned his attention back to his friend’s face, worried for what he’d just caused. It was bizarre, but he looked… less freaked out now? His eyes were still trained on Arthur’s hand, but the one laying on top of the prosthetic rather than the metal fingers that were visible beneath it.

Arthur made to move it away but, at the last second, curled it around Lewis’s instead, the same way he used to lead him around town, even after Lewis had learned the way for himself. It was trickier now— it had been ever since Lewis had finally hit his growth spurt— and awkward against the grip on his wrist, but, in some small way, it made Arthur feel better about what was going on.

Lewis’s fingers twitched, the same as he’d absently tried to pull his arm away before. Like he was reminding himself not to do something instinctive.

“No,” He hissed to himself, and Arthur didn’t know whether to look him the eye or keep his attention where it was as the larger hand grasped back, “No, it’s wrong. I can’t.”

When he risked a glance upwards, Lewis’s eyes were distant and unfocused, betraying the fact that, mentally, he was somewhere else. Awkwardly, Arthur dropped his gaze again, staring at the pitch black hand that enveloped his. He had a feeling he knew what that had been about.

And… and if he was right, that meant there was hope. The Lewis he knew would never have taken things to these extremes under normal circumstances. If the memory of the monster-dogs and the uncharacteristic behavior they had brought out proved one thing, it was that Lewis was prone to lashing out under certain circumstances. He’d been angry, he’d been—

He’d been scared.

Arthur stared hard at their hands. He would fix this, but he had to understand what was happening, what had happened in their time apart.

He felt a lump rise in his throat. Of course it came down to that.

If he wanted to end this, he had to know what had happened the night Lewis disappeared. The night that—

“Nothing happened!”

“There’s nothing for you here!”

“I don’t know.”

His mouth went dry as something occurred to him. Arthur could only remember bits and pieces of the night he’d lost his arm, Vivi didn’t remember anything about that night, or anything about Lewis.

And Lewis…

“Do—do you know who I am?”

Lewis paused and, slowly, moved to look Arthur in the eye for the first time since his name had been called. He seemed to have a bit of his metaphorical fire back, and Arthur wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

The silence lasted long enough that Arthur felt he had his answer, whether Lewis said anything or not.

“A murderer.”

He almost didn’t notice the response he actually got, and when he did, his attention was stolen away. Buried deep beneath the accusation, more of a question than anything, Arthur heard just a whisper of his name.

He swallowed. “And—do you know who…”

Arthur trailed off, derailed by a wave of heat rushing over his hand and the plume of fire that accompanied it, nearly blinding in the darkness that the trailer had lapsed into. The hand folded over his clamped down and dragged him upright as Lewis straightened up to his full height.

Even though he was standing under his own power, Arthur’s pulse raced.

Lewis looked down his nose at Arthur and grimaced.

“A murderer.”

The fire didn’t hurt, some small part of his brain told him. It was a distant realization, and Arthur could only hope it didn’t come from the beguiling little voice he’d already bought into. The rest of him screamed to act on basic instinct and get away.

Almost clumsily, Lewis let go of the heart at his lapel and raised his hand beneath Arthur’s chin.

Arthur had expected more fire. From the look on his face, so had Lewis.

The grey lump gave a fitful shudder, purple sparks jumping between the cracks, and Lewis’s entire form sagged. He withdrew his arm and lethargically moved to cover the fluttering heart, doing little to properly conceal it.

It crackled again, and he closed his eyes, turning away.

“Why did you kill me?”

Somewhere, far away even as it seared Arthur’s eardrums, a gunshot echoed into the night.

#mystery skulls #ihaveatheoryonthat MSA #fanfic

243 notes · View notes

averagemarvelbitch · 6 years ago

Text

PROMPT LIST CHALLENGE

Challenging myself to write 50 short stories based on a prompts list.

1. “We’re not just friends and you know it”.

Alternate Universe / Stony

Warning: There is a scene where someone exposes someone else’s sexuality and I tried to make it clear that’s NEVER okay. I hope I succeeded.

Tony just couldn’t understand. He tried, God knows he tried, but he couldn’t seem to grasp why Steve would want to keep this, them, a secret.

They had been together for two years now. Tony remembered the day they met like it was yesterday. Rhodey got tired of his roommates shenanigans ― Tony had been in a “inventing spree” for three days, which meant little food, smelly clothes and very deep dark circles under his eyes ― and decided enough was enough. He took Tony by the ear ― literally, he might add ― and locked him in the bathroom until he took a shower, shaved and put on clean clothes. When he resembled a normal person again, Rhodey took him out to a party to get some air, see some people, you’re gonna go crazy in there all alone with your bots, man.

The party was a typical frat party. Lots of booze, lots of people, lots of chances to hook up. And it was there Tony met Steve. He had been in a corner, looking around like he wanted to be anywhere else but there, drinking beer from a plastic cup. Years after, Tony would swear to anyone that it was love at first sight. The minute he saw Steve standing there, with his way too small white shirt, and his blue pants, and his hair looking like freaking Johnny Bravo, he knew he had found the one… The one to spend many nights under the sheets doing things that would make a very experienced hooker blush.

So Tony approached him carefully. He’d learned the hard way to never assume a guy was, well, interested in guys. Straight men could be real dick heads about getting hit on by another man. So he introduced himself with a smile, asked for Steve’s name, which he promptly gave, and they started talking. As the party went on, they talked about everything… college, parents, favorite movies, favorite food, how cool is the new Star Wars movie, and on and on. At one point, Tony asked if Steve was interested in going somewhere private. They ended up in Steve’s apartment, with a very satisfied Tony being thoroughly fucked against a wall.

It could have been just a fling. They could have parted ways the next morning with a very sore ass ― in Tony’s case ― and a wonderful memory to cherish. But Tony woke up to the smell of coffee and freshly baked bagels and went to the kitchen, only to find a very naked Steve wearing a Captain America apron. Needless to say, breakfast was forgotten as Tony sucked Steve’s cock right there on the floor and the blond moaned his name until he came in Tony’s throat.

After that, they would meet regularly. Sometimes, when Steve had a bad day at work or had had a particularly difficult assignment, he would call Tony and they would watch a movie, eat Chinese food and fuck on every available surface in the small apartment. Other times, when Tony was frustrated with some new invention that just wouldn’t work the way he wanted or angry at the fact that every single person in MIT was too goddamn stupid, Steve, I swear to God, he would show up unannounced, already taking his clothes off as soon as the blond opened the door, and he would forget all of this troubles as Steve tore him apart, kissing every inch of his body and pressing him roughly against the mattress as he slammed his cock inside Tony again and again and again until the brunette was covered in cum, murmuring nonsense as he came back from his high, completely and utterly satisfied.

But it wasn’t just sex. They would do other things too. Every week, they’d rent a movie and watch it while cuddling on the sofa. Sometimes, they’d go out for a walk and have hot dogs at the park, or go to Howie’s and have cheeseburgers with fries. They did many couples thing and so, really, no one could blame Tony for thinking they were, in fact, a couple, even though they’d never said it out loud. Maybe Steve didn’t like labels or whatever, but they were definitely dating. Or so Tony thought.

Six months after that party ― and a LOT of mind blowing sex ― Tony begun to notice some things. It all started on a fateful Tuesday. He’d had a very bad day, full of uninteresting classes and way too many assignments due next week, not to mention the lovely phone call he’d gotten from his father earlier, in which, as usual, Howard specified every single thing that was wrong with Tony in a very disappointed voice. All the engineer wanted was to see Steve, to cuddle with him on his very uncomfortable couch and watch bad TV while complaining about everyone and everything as Steve hugged him and stroked his hair. A perfect night for a otherwise shitty day, he thought as he knocked on the door.

Only, when Steve opened the door, he didn’t immediately invite Tony in, which was odd on itself. He kept the door somewhat closed and, when he smiled, it looked more like a grimace than a actually “happy to see you” smile.

“Hey Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony looked very confused for a moment.

“Uh… I… had a shitty day, thought we could watch crappy TV and eat some Mexican food. Are you… Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine”, he answered, taking a quick look inside before turning to Tony, the door still almost closed, as if he was afraid Tony might just walk in if he opened it a little bit more.

“Ok… Can I come in, then?”

“Uh, you know what, I have a friend over, so maybe we could meet another ti…”

“Hey, Stevie, who’s at the door?” a voice asked from inside the apartment.

In a second, the floor flew open, revealing another man. He was tall, with a prosthetic arm, a beard and long hair, pulled together in a bun on the top of his head. But Tony didn’t pay much attention to any of that. He was too busy staring at the pained look in Steve’s face.

“Oh, hey, I’m Bucky”, the guy said, offering his hand.

“Uh, I’m…”, Tony started to say, but a desperate Steve interrupted him immediately.

“This is Tony. He’s a friend from MIT”.

“Oh, cool, you wanna come in? We’re just gonna play some Call of Duty and chill”.

“He can’t stay. Maybe some other time, right Tony?” Steve interrupted again, looking at Tony with a desperate look on his face.

And Tony had to admit. That hurt him worse than a kick in the balls. He had heard about Bucky, of course, he was in every single one of Steve’s stories. But it was obvious that Bucky had never heard of him. Who doesn’t tell their best friend about their boyfriend?, Tony thought. But that was the thing, wasn’t it. Steve hadn’t introduced him as his boyfriend or his partner, he had introduced him as a friend. Not only that, but he was desperate to see Tony gone as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I was just passing by and I gotta… I gotta go now, so… Yeah, sorry to bother you, Steve, I guess I’ll see you around”, as he said the words, Tony was very aware that he sounded like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t help it. Without waiting for a reply, he just turned his back to Steve and his friend and got the hell out of there.

That night, he got fifteen calls from Steve, three voicemails and a dozen texts. He ignored all of them. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all Steve. He was deeply hurt and had never felt so stupid in his entire life. Of course they weren’t dating. Tony should have seen it coming. He laid there on his bed and remembered every single moment he spent with Steve out in the open. They never held hands when they were in public. They never hugged, never kissed, shit, even when they went to those restaurants, Steve never even sat close to him. He always kept his distance, and at first Tony thought he was just one of those guys who didn’t like PDAs, but now he knew better. Steve just didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking Tony. He didn’t want people to figure out he was involved with someone like Tony. And honestly, who could blame him? Tony was aware of who he was. Howard had never let him forget it. Lazy, good for nothing, never got anything right. And his last two boyfriends, Justin and Ty, had both agreed wholeheartedly with Howard’s opinion on his son. So why would Steve be any different? He should have known. It was stupid of him to think anyone would want him for anything more than just sex. And so Tony spent the whole night hating himself.

The next morning, Steve came over. Tony met him outside of his building while he was getting out with Rhodey. He told his best friend to go along without him, that he and Steve needed to talk. Rhodey wasn’t happy about it, but left anyway, although not without giving Steve the nastiest look first.

Steve looked devastated. “Tony, look, I’m so sorry”.

“For what?”

“For being a dick to you last night. For introducing you as just my friend. I know that really hurt you and I’m so sorry”.

“Nah”, Tony denied, gesturing with his hand as if the whole thing was no big deal, “It’s fine, I mean, what are you going to do, introduce me to everyone as your fuck buddy? That would be awkward, right?”

Steve looked like he’d been slapped when Tony said “fuck buddies”.

“You’re not… Tony, you know you’re not… that… to me”.

“Really? So what am I, Steve?”

“You’re… Shit, listen… I’m… I’m in love with you, Tony, I really am. I never met anyone like you in my entire life and you make me so happy and all I want is to make you as happy as you make me. But… I can’t tell my friends. They don’t know I’m…”, he stopped talking all of a sudden, looking around like he’s afraid someone might hear him, before whispering the last word, “…gay”.

Tony didn’t know how to react. He remembered when he first came out to his parents as bisexual. His mother thought it was just a phase, something that would pass with time. Howard, on the other hand, almost ripped him a new one. He screamed for hours, called Tony every name in the book, told him he was a disgrace to the Stark name and so on and so on. It was horrible. Then he thought about Rhodey and how terrified he’d been when the older boy caught him in a compromising position with Tiberion Stone. He looked livid. He threw Tiberion out of the apartment and he was so angry Tony actually thought Rhodey might hit him or something. And then he started screaming. And Tony almost burst into tears out of sheer relief. What the hell are you doing with that asshole, Tony? Seriously, he punched his last boyfriend in the face, man, in the middle of a party. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you date that abusive asshole, you hear me? He was worried. About Tony. Not angry that Tony was dating a man and hadn’t told him, just worried about his safety. So, you’re not mad?, Tony had asked with a small voice. I’m mad about a lot of things you do, Tony, like leaving the freaking screwdrivers in the middle of my living room or drinking the fucking milk straight for the carton. But I’ll never be mad about who you are, man. I can promise you that.

So Tony got it. He did, really. The fear of coming out and not being accepted, of losing the people close to you because they can’t accept this very important part of you. And he really did like Steve. Like he never liked anyone before in his life. So he made a decision.

And so, for the past two years, much to Rhodey’s displeasure, Steve and Tony had been secretly seeing each other. Bucky, and his girlfriend, Natasha, knew Tony only as “Steve’s friend from MIT” and seemed to think nothing of it. Sometimes, Natasha would try to set Steve up with one of her friends, and Steve would politely decline while saying he just didn’t have the time for that. And it killed a little bit of Tony when it happened, but he would stand there, every time, a fake smile on his face as he pretended to be Steve’s very straight friend.

And it had worked. It wasn’t ideal, and Tony hated it, but he loved Steve and he was willing to suffer if it meant they could be together. Everything worked fine. Until today.

They were at Steve’s apartment. It was his birthday. All of his friends were there. Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Thor. He’d invited some of Tony’s friends as well, like Bruce, Rhodey and Pepper. They had beer, vodka, pizza and a huge cake with “Happy Birthday, Dumbass” written in icing, courtesy of Bucky. It was all good, until Natasha came over and started talking.

There were in the kitchen when it happened. Pepper, Rhodey and Bucky were opening pizza boxes and getting paper plates, and Steve was sitting on the counter, drinking a beer while talking to Tony, when Natasha showed up.

“So, Steve, I just talked to Sharon. She said she had a great time. Are you taking her out again or what?”

Immediately, the room got quiet. Pepper and Rhodey, who were both very aware of Steve and Tony’s secret relationship, turned to look at Tony, who looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“What date?”, he asked quietly, looking at Steve.

“It’s nothing, just…”

“You went out with someone?”, Tony asked again, the pain now clear in his voice.

“Yeah, but just to make Nat… No, wait, Tony, stop”, he said, jumping down from the counter, but Tony was already leaving the kitchen.

He ran after him and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from leaving the house. The others ran after them, stopping at the door, while Clint, Bruce and Thor, who were at the couch playing videogames, stopped and looked at them, confused.

“LET ME GO, I’M DONE WITH THIS. I’M DONE, STEVE. YOU WANNA HIDE YOUR WHOLE LIFE, THAT’S FINE, BUT I’M FUCKING DONE BEING YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET”, Tony screamed, pushing Steve away from him.

“Wait, what. Are you guys…?” Clint started asking, looking even more confused.

“NO, we’re just friends”, Steve tried to explain, but Tony’d had enough.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it”, he shouted, tears coming down his face now, “I tried to be understanding, I tried to give you time, but FUCK YOU, STEVE. WE’RE DONE”.

And with that, Tony left, Pepper and Rhodey right after him.

It took Tony almost two weeks to even resemble a functioning human being again. In that time, he had cried on his bed every single day, unable to hold it in, as either Rhodey or Pepper sat there by his side, stroking his hair while whispering that everything was going to be okay. Tony didn’t believe them. How could anything ever be okay again? Steve had kept him as a dirty little secret no one could ever find out about, cuddling with him at night, whispering “I love you” again and again in his ear, all the while going out with whoever Natasha set him up. It hurt. It hurt so bad Tony honestly didn’t think he could recover from it.

Natasha had called as well. She apologized for setting Steve up with someone else, berating herself for not noticing anything was amiss before. Tony forgave her, of course. It wasn’t her fault. It was his. His fault for believing in Steve, for thinking he could have this. That he could actually be happy.

But after two weeks of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, Tony decided he needed to get back to his life. Steve already ruined my love life, he thought, a bit dramatically, not gonna let him ruin my academic life as well. So, on a Monday, he got up, got dressed, and left the apartment, somewhat ready to face the day. And found Steve sitting on the ground, just outside his building, with a bouquet of flowers on his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, Tony exclaimed, surprised.

Steve, who was staring at the ground looking miserable, suddenly looked up when he heard Tony’s voice and immediately got up.

“Hi”, he whispered, “I’ve been coming here every day, waiting for you to come out”.

“Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“I did”, he said, grimacing, “Rhodey broke my nose and told me to get lost both times”.

“Good”, Tony replied, satisfied, even though deep down he felt a little sorry for Steve.

“Look, Tony, please, just let me say this. And when I’m finished, if you want me to go away and never come back, I will, I promise. Please”.

He was begging. He looked so sad and so lost, Tony’s heart melted a little. So, he crossed his arms and waited for Steve to talk.

“I… I know I hurt you. Bad. And I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you so much pain, Tony, really. You were right. The problem was me. Deep down, I knew my ma wouldn’t care if I was gay. And I know Bucky and the others wouldn’t care either. I just… I don’t know, I had this idea in my head that it was different with me, you know. That it was okay for Clint to be gay, but if they found out I was? They would hate me. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did”.

Tony looked away for a moment and exhaled, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry for exposing you like that. That wasn’t cool. You should be able to come out on your own terms and I took that from you. I exposed you to your friends when you clearly weren’t ready to come clean. I’m really sorry about that. It was a dick move”.

“Yeah, it was”, Steve replied, with a huffed laugh, “But I get it. You spent two years hiding for me, Tony. Two years pretending and trusting that I would get the courage to come out one day, and then you find out I went out with some girl. I get how much that hurt you, because if it was me in your place, and I heard you went out with someone else, I’d be devastated. But I need you to know this. Nothing happened. I swear. We ate, we talked, she went home. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t even hug. I just did it so Natasha would leave me alone, you know”.

“Yeah, I get it. I guess we both screwed up”.

Steve nodded, looking down at the flowers in his hand.

“I’m seeing a therapist. She’s helping me with this idea I had in my head, you know. That it’s okay for other people to be who they are, but not for me. I’m getting better”.

“That’s good, Steve”, Tony replied, “I’m happy for you”, he said and he meant it.

“I just… I know it’s a lot to ask, but… Can we try again? I’ll be better this time, I promise. I just… I love you. And I miss you so much. Please”, he whispered, looking at Tony with a pained look.

And Tony thought about it. He remembered every happy moment he had with Steve, and how much he loved him. They had hurt each other, he knew, but they could get past it. He knew they could. So he smiled and took the flowers from Steve’s hand, holding them to his chest.

“How about this time we start with a date?”

And, in that moment, Steve’s smile could light up the entire city.

#50 Prompts Challenge #Let's train and get better at this writing thing #stony #bit angst #tony stark #steve rogers #alternate universe #fanfic

43 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 7 years ago

Text

Nine Lives (8) The Home

FF.net | Ao3

Chat Noir snuck into Master’s Fu’s home after his patrol. It was only 10pm, but the lights were off and Fu was fast asleep, snoring away.

Adrien dropped his transformation in the backroom by his little homework table, and opened his laptop.

“Cheese?” Plagg asked, hopeful.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Adrien winced and dug around in his backpack. “There’s only one wheel left. So don’t eat it all until we can get more tomorrow.”

Plagg groaned, but begrudgingly agreed, if only for his own benefit.

Adrien got to work on his homework. He had an essay due tomorrow that he was sorely behind on. He would have finished it earlier, but other matters took precedence.

“Pretty good speech you gave,” Plagg smirked, sitting on the top of his laptop. “Really got the media off your back there.”

“It was just a thank you speech for the mayor. I had to, there was no way I wasn’t going thank him. It’s a 1000 euros a month.”

“As long as you keep up with patrols and akumas.”

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“I can see why people would be protesting you.”

“They aren’t protesting me specifically. They just don’t want me to get paid.”

“Yeah, they want you to save their lives for free.”

“And you see how silly that is? You were the one who said I should turn Chat Noir into a living.”

“I did, didn’t I? Interesting...”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think they’re protesting?”

“Well, in their eyes, Ladybug and Chat Noir allowed a citizen to be killed. And now they want money?”

Adrien frowned and leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it’s a done deal. Paris will get over it eventually.”

“What does Ladybug think about it?”

“She doesn’t mind. She said if I need money, it made sense to ask for help. Fighting the Akuma is hard work.”

“Was she jealous?”

“I offered to split the check, but she turned it down.”

Speaking of checks, he pulled out the one Mayor Bourgeois had given him. Thankfully, it wasn’t a giant check like the ones they gave at sweepstakes. But it was clearly from the mayor, and the memo line read ‘To Chat Noir.’ So what was he supposed to do? Open a new bank account as his alter ego and then transfer money to his normal account? He rubbed his head. Secret Identities sucked!

“Ladybug is just too noble to accept money for her hard work.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Or, it could be that she lives at home with her parents, and she gets an allowance?”

“Please, what teenager passes up the opportunity for money?”

“The kind that recognizes that their friend needs help, now will you drop it? I have an essay to write.”

“Fine, if you won’t admit your guilt, then you can just suffer.”

Adrien groaned. Plagg, being his Kwami, had a tendency to pick at his nerves just so, and pick up on the emotions he wanted to ignore. “I keep lying to her. And if there’s anything I remember about Volpina, it’s that Marinette hates liars.” He was quiet a moment and thought back to that day. “I think I understand why she was angry though. Lila flirting with me, and lying about an affiliation with Ladybug to do it. Hmm, that makes sense.”

Plagg cleared his throat. “And?”

“And...I’m scared. I keep lying to her, but I know when this bubble bursts, it’s going to be ugly.”

“You don’t think she’ll understand?”

Adrien sighed. “I...if it were me, and Marinette faked her death to continue being Ladybug, and she didn’t confide in Chat Noir...I might feel betrayed.”

“If the situation was like that, then why would she confide in you? She’s the one who has been insistent on secret identities. Even after you found her out.”

“But this is an exception Plagg! I faked my death! That’s not something to hide from your partner! Not if you trust them…”

“But you did, and now you have to deal with it.”

Adrien frowned, falling silent. Then, “I thought you were thousands of years old. I thought you were supposed to unleash divine wisdom upon me.”

“You want wisdom? Fine. Wait. Like Master Fu said about the molten glass. You saw her bedroom walls. Eventually, she’ll move on from Adrien. Not totally, ever. But enough that it doesn’t sting anymore. That’s when you should tell her.”

“How long will that take?”

“Who knows. A few months? Weeks? Years? I know it took me three years to grieve the loss of my love.”

Adrien softened. “Your love? I didn’t know you were in love once.”

“Yeah, a real beauty. An aged cheddar packed in charred whiskey barrels. It sounds so simple, but the place that made it burned to the ground in the 1500’s. It was awful.”

Adrien scoffed. “Why did expect anything else…?”

“But now Camembert is my true love. I think I might love it more than I loved that whiskey cheddar.”

Adrien leaned his head on his knuckles, just listening to his kwami.

“The thing is, until I lost that Whiskey cheddar, I never would have loved Camembert. You following me?”

“Wait, are you saying that now Adrien’s out of the way, she’ll start loving Chat Noir?”

“No, I’m saying she’ll start to love you.”

“But—“

“New wisdom!” Plagg interrupted and zipped out of the room, startling Adrien for a moment. He returned a moment later, with a necklace in his grasp.

“This is my mom’s necklace?” He raised his eyebrow. It was simple, despite the wealth the Agreste’s had. His mother had once told him this was the first necklace Gabriel gave her when they got married. Just a thin chain and a pear cut diamond.

“These little flat parts are called facets.” Plagg explained.

“I know, I’m not five.”

Plagg hissed, perturbed to be interrupted during his ‘wisdom’.

“Uh, sorry, please continue.”

“Thank you. Each facet is cut very particularly to reflect light, and the gem looks different from each facet.” He dangled the jewel in front of the desk lamp, sending a bunch of sparkles across the table surface. “Adrien was one of your facets, but it wasn’t you. Your father made sure that Adrien was just what everyone wanted to see. Chat Noir is just a facet as well, a part of you that is constantly filled with adrenaline and confidence. Emile…now the name is different, but he’s the most you you’ve been. The boy sitting in front of me is the gem. Ladybug has to see past the facets to see you.”

Adrien stared at his kwami, and then at the necklace. After a beat, he put it on, hiding it under his shirt. “I didn’t know you knew so much about diamonds. I thought your expertise was only in cheese.”

“Cats like shiny things, silly boy.” Plagg stated, matter of factly. “Now I’m all wisdom-ed out. Hit me up in another ten years, and I’ll have another cheese analogy for you.”

Adrien scratched the kwami between the ears, his soft spot, and quiet purring filled the space. “You’re my best friend Plagg, you know that right?”

“Yeah yeah, you know how I feel about mushy stuff.”

“Oh, I know.” Adrien smirked. “But I just thought I’d remind you.”

“So I might as well remind you about your essay.”

“My essay!”

—

The next day, a bleary-eyed Emile walked to school. It wasn’t the first time walking, but everyday was as strange as the first. As Adrien, he’d never been allowed to walk anywhere alone. Though, he was honest enough to admit getting a ride to school in the mornings was nice. But he was beginning to enjoy his walks, as sleepy as he was.

He stopped at a cafe, and bought two coffees. One for him, and one for Marinette. It was a small gesture, one that he hoped was not too bizarre for Emile.

Emile would be stepping up his game. Chat would try to refrain from visiting her every night, despite knowing who she was. Because more than anything, Adrien wanted her to love him for who he was. It had been wonderful knowing that she loved Adrien for the gem shining through, so to speak, and not just the pretty face in the posters. But there was even more to him than that. A goofy, fun-loving, dramatic side to him that she was missing out on.

He entered the classroom a few minutes before class started, delighted to see his angel was there already, with eyes half closed.

“Good morning Marinette,” he chirped happily. “Do you like coffee?”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “I…do on occasion.”

“Would a free cup from a friend be an occasion?” He set the cardboard cup in front of her, watching with glee as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a very kissable ‘o’.

She smiled at him. “I will gladly accept your coffee! Thank you! I’m actually having a hard time staying awake this morning.”

He slid his backpack onto his seat and then sat on his desk, facing towards her, a very improper action, if he did say so himself. “I’m the same way! I’m such a night owl it’s a disaster. I used to wake up really early.” For photo shoots. “But now I can barely manage to make it to school on time.”

Alya leaned over the desk and mock whispered. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think you and Marinette are soulmates.”

“Alya!” Marinette flushed madly.

Emile just laughed, loudly, and without restraint. A very Chat Noir-esque trait.

Marinette’s face flushed a little more as she observed him.

“Oh please, it’s only been like two weeks since you showed up, and you already have a crush on the baker girl? Please, get behind all the other loser boys in this school.” Chloe spoke clearly, apparently ready to take Emile down. She hadn’t succeeded yet, since he seemed impervious to her ‘perfection’.

Emile turned his, literally, award winning smile to her and sang, “Jealous?”

Chloe sneered. “Ugh! As if I’d ever want you to like me, Quasimodo!”

“Reverse psychology, classic. Maybe someday you will win my heart, Chloe Bourgeois.”

Chloe scoffed again and turned her head with a little ‘hmph!’

“Uh...Emile?” Marinette asked shyly.

“Hmm?”

She was speaking quietly, so he had to lean in the hear her. “I...do you remember when we talked about Adrien? The boy who...”

He quickly stopped her from having to say it. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I...I kind of...really liked him. And since the whole...” she trailed off, her face pink, but her eyes downcast.

“I totally understand.” He smiled at her, softly, encouragingly. “It’s not really a crush, despite what Chloe thinks. I do think you’re cute, but I just want to be your friend. If that’s okay? You seem like a really nice person. Especially if what Master Fu said about you is true.” Another lie, but he felt justified in this case.

Her blush returned, with a horrified look to match. But she quickly covered it with a stutter. “No! I—sure! Yes! That’s great! Friends! You can’t have enough friends! Heh?” She bared her teeth in an attempted smile, as Alya whispered, “smooth...”

“Um,” she tried again, “I actually have a favor...”

“Shoot!”

“My dad threw his back out yesterday, and we’re supposed to get a shipment of flour later tonight. Nino and Alya are coming, but would you be willing to help with some heavy lifting?”

Emile grinned, “of course! What time?”

“Just after school. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“That’s fine! My schedule is wide open!” And he loved every minute of it.

—

At lunch, the group met at the bakery, which was becoming a tradition. Even if they brought their own food, they still went to Marinette’s to eat. It was convenient, and the Dupain-Cheng household was just too cozy to pass up.

Emile sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hands, in complete bliss. It was an amazing feeling to be invited out by friends, and not having to deny them.

He almost began to purr.

As Alya was just at the apex of her ‘why Hawkmoth is on Hiatus’ theory, the door opened and Tom came in.

“Hi kids,” he smiled, hiding a wince. The back brace did not go unnoticed by the group.

“You holding in there okay, papa?”

“Your old man is as tough as nails. But once I get some ibuprofen and sit for a bit, I’ll be right as rain.” He fished the pills out of the medicine cabinet. “You kids wouldn’t be willing to help me out later today would you?”

“Marinette already reached out, and we’ll all be there to help!” Alya said, flexing her arm.

Tom laughed in relief. “Thank goodness! I couldn’t imagine my wife and Marinette doing it all by themselves.”

“How long will you be in the brace?” Emile asked.

“Oh the doctor said I have to wear this thing for three weeks, but I have to avoid heavy lifting for six to eight weeks. It’s gonna make things more difficult around here for sure.”

“What if I were to help?” Emile asked, sitting up and smiling.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, Emile, you don’t have to…”

“Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. You’ve been so nice to invite me along and give me food, it’s the least I could do!” And, he’d get to get in with the in-laws.

“Well,” Tom began. “I really could use the extra help right now. A strong young man! I’ll talk to my wife and see what she thinks. We wouldn’t be able to pay you much.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to pay me...unless it’s with cookies.”

Tom laughed, “alright, then I’ll talk with Sabine and see what she thinks.” And he left.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.” Alya noted with a smirk.

“Uh, what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to get in with Marinette’s parents!” Oh, she was good.

Emile scoffed, but blushed at the look Marinette was giving him. “You were there this morning. It’s not a crush. It’s just…what friends do, right? I just want to do the right thing.”

Marinette reached over and touched his hand. “Well, you’d really be helping us out. I do appreciate the offer.”

Adrien blushed. Nearly all of his interactions with her as Adrien had been…awkward. To say the least. It wasn’t long before he ‘died’ that she was finally able to talk to him with full sentences. As Ladybug, she flirted with him, and teased him, and acted like a brave older sister. But this look on her face, it was totally new. Full of adoration and gratitude, with just a touch of helplessness. He returned the touch by holding her hand. “It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, I owe you.”

The group finished their meal, and Alya finished her theory on Hawkmoth, before it was time to return to school.

The rest of the day, Marinette kept staring at the back of Emile’s head. Maybe it was Alya’s conspiracy theorist tendencies rubbing off on her. But Marinette could have sworn there was something familiar about him. The blonde hair was strikingly similar to Adrien’s as she had the sunshine gold burned into her retinas after staring at him for two years. But his mannerisms were almost more like Chat Noir. A little dramatic and grandiose. Not quite as much, and not so annoying. And the puns, Emile liked puns and portmanteaus. But thankfully he kept them at a normal amount.

Perhaps she was only seeing what she wanted to see. Emile was sitting in Adrien’s seat, and was taking up the role of second boy in their little quartet. Heavens forbid he actually take Adrien’s place! No, no one could ever do that!

But he just seemed...familiar. Even his voice rang a bell.

He turned around in his seat and gave her a little smirk and a wink, and for half a second, she swore she was looking at Chat Noir.

But the scar convinced her otherwise. Chat had some scarring there too, but not as dramatic.

“Uh, Marinette? You okay? Or are you just stunned by my beauty?”

“Oh, no no. Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to work with me on the worksheet? Nino ditched me for Alya.”

“Oh! Sure we can work together!”

Emile beamed. “Just don’t get lost in my eyes, My Lady.”

Marinette was going to retort, but found her voice dry. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be...

After school, the group returned to the bakery, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Tom and Sabine.

“There’s our hard workers! Ready to haul ass?”

“Thomas! Language!” Sabine chortled as she elbowed her husband. “There will be snacks waiting for you after the work is done!”

Since the Dupain-Cheng’s had the extra help, they took advantage of them by not only unloading the delivery of sugar, chocolate, flour and other ingredients, but also doing some heavy cleaning in the bakery. This included moving entire displays out of the way to mop under them. All the windows and glass casings were washed and all the metal was polished.

Three hours later, everything was in its place and the bakery sparkled.

“Wow! It looks great!” Marinette chirped with pride. “Thanks for all your help guys!”

“No problem,” Nino grinned. “Now about those snacks…”

They all hustled upstairs and gathered in the kitchen. Laughter took place, as it resided with the Dupain-Cheng’s. It was a close friend with Alya and Nino, and an old friend of Adrien’s. What he wouldn’t give to have this everyday of his life.

“Emile?” Sabine asked, after a lull in conversation.

“Oh, yes?”

“Tom said you offered to help us during his recovery period.”

“That’s right,” he rambled. “I don’t have very much baking experience, but I’m available whenever I’m not in school. I can even get up early in the morning.”

The parents grinned at each other, before Sabine continued. “Well, I wouldn’t feel right about taking you on if we couldn’t pay you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine! I don’t need any money…but I’m like a cat, if you feed me, I’ll keep coming back!”

“Well, I was going to say…” Sabine continued her knowing grin. “We have a spare room, if you’d like to stay with us. We’ll pay you in room and board.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He couldn’t possibly be that lucky, could he? Maybe it was because he was with Ladybug at the moment, maybe her luck was rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was her lucky charm in his back pocket.

“So, how about it, roomie?” Marinette nudged his arm.

“Yes! 100% yes! I was even—living with Master Fu is nice and all, but I have to share a room at his place. I was trying to save up some money for an apartment—“ He ran a hand through his hair, partly in shock, but mostly in joy. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“There are two conditions.” Sabine interrupted, her voice deadly serious.

“Yes, of course.” Adrien sobered.

“Number one, you have to keep up with your homework. School comes first. And number two…you have to join us for dinner and movie nights.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he looked at the smiling family. “I…” he choked.

“What, is that going to be a problem?” Tom nudged him.

“No, not a problem at all.” And everyone, including Adrien, was wholly unprepared for the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Emile?” Marinette asked, a careful hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry…I just…this is all I ever wanted. To…be a part of a family.” He wiped his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Later that night, Emile returned to the bakery with all his earthly possessions in tow. A big duffel bag, which held all his clothes, a backpack, and a smaller duffel for the fragments of his old life.

“Welp, here I am! Emile Fu, bakery gremlin.” He grinned.

Marinette had been the one to greet him at the door. “Bakery gremlin, huh?”

He hunched over slightly and spoke in a voice akin to Igor. “At your service, my lady.”

She laughed heartily, a wonderful song to his ears. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

It was across the stairway from the bakery. A small room, about the size of a college dorm. There was a little closet, a bed, and a table with a little lamp and two chairs. The walls were painted a soft blue, and there was a window with an alley view, just big enough for Chat Noir to fit through.

“It’s not much, but you can have it all to yourself.” She grinned. “The door locks, and the bathroom is directly above you.”

“Thanks Marinette, this is awesome.”

“No, thank you. My parents were actually really stressed about trying to figure out what to do. My dad can still bake, but there’s a lot of heavy lifting prep work, and deliveries. You’re their hero.”

Adrien smiled at that. A hero in more ways than one. “I wondered. If it’s just your family running the place, then I assumed there would be trouble without your dad being able to lift. I’m really glad I could help.”

“Then, I’ll let you get settled in. Mom and dad are working on dinner. Do you like quiche?”

“Love it,” he beamed.

Though she said she would leave him be, she found a question on the tip of her tongue, and so she leaned against the doorframe and watched him unpack. He took his, frankly atrocious, clothes out of his duffel bag and laid them on the bed.

“Are you going to keep watching me? Or are you going to help?” He teased.

“O-oh, yeah, I can—“

“I’m just kidding Marinette, you don’t have to help. There’s not much to put away.”

She blushed and knotted her fingers together.

“But you do look like you have something to say.”

Might as well get it over with. She thought. She glanced behind her, checking to see that the coast was clear. “Um…you—do you know who I am?”

He continued folding his clothes, not even looking at her. “Do I know that you’re Ladybug? Yes. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

Marinette turned slightly and rested her forehead on the doorframe with a groan.

“But don’t worry, I know it’s a secret.”

“Why do you know?”

It was time for another lie. “Well, Master Fu is 180-something, but he’s not immortal.”

Now that he thought about it, that was a problem. He might need to ask the old man about doing some extra training.

“Do you know who Chat Noir is?”

“Of course,” he answered easily. “Probably the coolest person on earth.”

She barked a laugh, “now you’re just messing with me.”

“I am not! That guy is too hot to trot! He’s purr-fection.”

“Ugh, and you sound just like him.” She rolled her eyes. “So,” she continued, nervously. “I have to ask. Who are you trying to be friends with?”

He smiled softly at her, and then fished out the necklace from around his neck. “These flat parts are called facets.”

“Right.”

“And each facet is cut very specifically to reflect light. And looking at each facet differently changes the appearance of the gem. Ladybug is one of your facets, and so is Marinette. I want to be friends with the whole gem.”

He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten until he looked up from the diamond. Her big blue eyes were glistening, just like the jewel. A light dusting of pink sat upon her nose, as she stared up at him.

God, she was beautiful. And she had been there all along. Just a little bit further and…

She stepped back, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Thanks…that means a lot.”

He managed a smile in return, though his stomach was twisting. “Of course.”

“I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” And she all but shut the door in his face.

He sighed. One day, and hopefully soon, he’d tell her the truth, and they’d finally be together.

Plagg floated up to his face, a sneer on his face. “You rotten thief.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #adrienette #fanfiction #Nine Lives

40 notes · View notes

islandpcosjourney · 4 years ago

Text

Reminiscences

21st August 2021

I don’t particularly look forward to my birthday each year. I suppose I used to as a child – one always looks forward to being made a fuss of and opening exciting presents! But when you become an adult, it CAN become that moment to dread, realising another year has gone and what’s changed? I suppose some people use New Year as their moment to reflect and plan forward, making resolutions they PLAN to keep because there’s something they want to achieve. But, doing something when everyone else might also be doing the same thing at the same time might put too much pressure on folk to achieve what they want to achieve, and in turn, too much pressure breeds resentment, rebelliousness and ultimately failure. Compared with say, making your own decision at your own point in time when you’re ready and prepared to make changes. I did just that in June 2020 and you may have read a bit about it in my previous blogs – my decision to turn my life around for the better.

Despite changing my lifestyle last summer, my birthday felt bittersweet for it was my 33rd and the milestone in my life which meant I had now reached the age when my mum had given birth to me. As someone who longed for a child her whole life, reaching the age of 33 was difficult, for I had no hope of becoming a mother any time soon. However, having changed my daily nutrition, I was seeing regular changes in my health and body so my thoughts turned to “let’s just see shall we – this year can’t be any worse than the last”.

Turning 34 tomorrow, I can’t say I feel as hopeful as I did last year, or can I? On one hand, another year has passed and we’re still childless, which deeply hurts, but on the other hand I’ve achieved so much this year which has given us more hope than the previous 10 years put together. I’ve said it before, I don’t regret anything in life, there’s no point, it’s not like you can go back and change anything. But I am upset that I spent so long trusting in doctors prescribing me medications which only messed around even more with my already mixed-up body and mind. Please don’t get me wrong, I am not against medicine or pharmaceuticals, I am annoyed at a system which does not look at the whole person, their symptoms, the causes and treat them according to what would suit them the best at that time. In saying all that, now that I am “awake” and know more about my own body, I do not regret the 9 years I spent “asleep” and unable to help my own condition for myself. I am merely now more aware as a result and think carefully before I make decisions about my health – as everyone should. We shouldn’t just believe what we’re told. We need to make our own informed decisions, after all who else is responsible for our own bodies but ourselves?

So, what have I learnt in the past year? As a 33-year-old, I have lived more than I did as a 32-year-old, and definitely more than I did as a 31-year-old. In fact, I have lived more this year than I have done over the last 8 years. That’s how many years I have turned the clock back on my weight. But in terms of my health, I feel like a teenager again. I know how that might sound, but when I was a teenager, I suffered tremendously with my menstrual cycles. I would have to take a day off school with the pain, I’d be bringing up bile, unable to swallow painkillers I would be in bed with several hot water bottles and hot baths to stem the painful stomach cramps and right leg I had. Doctors said I would grow out of it, and I did. Unfortunately, now I can see that when I grew out of it, that’s probably when my hormonal issues started. I was so glad to only have occasional bleeds – I saved on sanitary products and didn’t have to take those days off for pain anymore! How blinded I was to my potential problems but who knows if I had a crystal ball to see into the future, if I’d have made any dietary changes back then, or would I just have continued being young and carefree?

Back to now, and that recent teenage feeling I’ve been having again! It sucks that when Aunt Flow comes to visit, I am now back to being in so much pain that I need to take a day off to deal with it. However, as an adult who forced herself to overcome her gag reflex so she could swallow painkillers, I can now choose to take them if I need to. The upside of returning to a teenage health is the amount of energy I have and regularity of my cycle – it has now returned to a 34 day one which is classed as NORMAL! Don’t think I’ve been “normal” for 15 or so years! However, I haven’t had a normal cycle for long enough yet to no longer be classed as having IRREGULAR cycles, so I haven’t quite reversed that side of my PCOS, yet. I have however reversed my chronic fatigue, my acne (except the odd spot as part of hormonal spikes during a NORMAL cycle) my cellulite, my permanent bloating & I have dropped several dress sizes – the weight loss is simply a lovely bonus to the health benefits! If your body is healthy, it will return itself to its natural state – that is happening for sure! My hirsutism (excess body hair) has dramatically reduced so it’s going in the right direction and I’m hopeful that one day I may not need to address the hair growing on my face on a daily basis, but my androgenic alopecia (male patterned baldness) is most likely a permanent state of affairs. It certainly won’t grow back on its own but maybe, just maybe in future, when I’m completely stable and I know that I have cured myself as much as I can, I might investigate treatments to stimulate growth again but for now, it’s just part of who I am.

My poor husband though, what a shock he’s had. In the 10 years we’ve been together he’s never had to deal with my monthlies! Of course, he’s always worked away at sea, sometimes months at a time but more recently on 5-week trips so essentially, he would be forgiven for not being too aware of a woman’s routine anyway BUT now he is! We’ve timed everything in our lives around his 5 weeks on or off and we’d usually be found saying “gosh, those 5 weeks have come around quickly” but now we find ourselves noticing my cycles getting shorter and shorter each time and realising “gosh, that came around quicker than I expected!”. Bless him, he’s adapted so well to it all. You might take it for granted in your relationships when it’s just a usual part of it but when it’s not there for years and then suddenly it is, it’s a change - an exciting change. It makes me so happy to see his face light up each time – simple pleasures! The other aspects of a woman’s cycle, the hormonal spikes causing mood swings and breast tenderness making me yell out at the slightest touch – perhaps they’re not so welcomed but we’re now noticing patterns and we know it’ll pass, or he knows that if I snap at him (I’m trying to work on it, but it’s newish to me too!) he knows it’s just my hormones and is learning to either ignore me or not wind me up further! However, I hope he won’t mind me saying that the first time I became that teenage version of myself again and had a BAD first day on my period, he didn’t understand. He did call me lazy for being in bed all day, he called me a weakling for complaining about the pain, he compared me to other women and told me to get on with it, he’d never filled a hot water bottle for me before and didn’t understand how the cover etc worked but fortunately my mum was here and she took care of me and he learned quickly, with her help, that I’m not necessarily like other women – I have ONE bad day, I allow myself to have that and then I’m back up energetically like a new woman the next day and that’s just how it is. The experience has brought us even closer together and he can see with his own eyes the progress I’m making, and he loves it. Who knew that pain like this would be worth celebrating and seeing as a GOOD sign – I couldn’t have predicted a year ago that I’d be saying that now! I have also learnt more recently that allowing myself that ONE bad day is necessary to allow me to get back to my normal self again. I pushed myself too far during this last cycle, I didn’t “have time” for my bad day as I had far too much to do workwise so I took painkillers and forced myself out of bed to act like it was a normal day. I did it, I succeeded and got all my work done but my stomach cramps and leg pain continued for a further 2 days after that, in fact my leg was sore even 5 days later. We’re not sure what the leg pain is all about, but my mum has always been convinced that it’s a nerve being pressed on by something inflammatory happening. Obviously when I took the painkillers, I stemmed the pain but didn’t “cure” whatever was creating the pain – exactly what medications do to chronic conditions when they keep the symptoms at bay but aren’t curing the cause of the symptoms. It’s also similar to what they’re now training paramedics to advise – to NOT take ibuprofen straight after an injury, to allow your body’s immune system to kick in FIRST before then treating with painkillers or any other appropriate treatment. I have basically now confirmed that my body knows what to do. It knows how to react to kick in and do what it needs to do. It needs that ONE day to do its thing, be a pain (quite literally) and cause me some distress but then that’s it – done and dusted, get on with life.

I TRUST my own body.

I TRUST it to behave as it needs to.

I also TRUST in the Lord that he will provide us with the means to deal with my condition going forward and if it is his desire, to gift a family to us.

But the best birthday gift I have been given this year (even before opening anything tomorrow!) is that I now feel like a woman again. I have been given my life back and I have done it in the most natural way with the best family supporting me, and my husband, in our journey together.

P.S If you read my blogs from last year when I set myself some goals, I originally wanted to lose 100lbs by my friend’s wedding this year. Well, here I am playing at my friend’s wedding last weekend, 57lbs lighter (so I didn’t quite make that goal) but I was delighted at how I felt with my energy and delighted to be wearing a size 16 dress, comfortably!

0 notes

isolavirtuosa · 7 years ago

Text

Post Traumatic Drabbles: Breaking the Habit

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Some drabbles following Post Traumatic and Post-Post Traumatic, ranging from fluffy nonsense to horror and despair.

1-4

Track 5: Breaking the Habit, in which relationshipping is hard and making good life choices is harder.

Track 5

Breaking the Habit

I could not stop laughing.

“What is so funny?” Temari asked, coming into the room.

“We don’t remember!” Gaara and I chorused, both going back into hysterics.

She rolled her eyes and sat down, cracking open a beer. “It’s getting late, Naruto, shouldn’t you be home taking care of your brood?”

“Nah, Juugo’s home,” I said, taking another sip. Thinking about home had a sobering effect.

“Boy, that better not be alcohol that you’re drinking,” she said, suddenly going hardass mom on her son.

“Dad said I could,” Shikanori protested.

Temari glanced at Shikamaru.

He shrugged.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you end up puking,” she said, downing the rest of her drink. “I’ll leave you boys to your little party,” she concluded, snagging another can of beer and making her exit.

“It is getting kind of late,” Sora hedged. He was the responsible one in our teacher-student relationship.

It was funny how that always seemed to end up being the way.

“One more for the road?” Kankurou suggested.

“One more for the road,” I agreed, clinking bottles with him.

Sora seemed appeased, going back to his own beer. He’d been hyper focused on his training lately, but even he could kick back and relax on occasion. Now that Gaara was training Shika Jr., we spent a lot of time in Suna training with them. It was good for Sora to have a younger training partner who looked up to him. It gave him a boost of confidence, which was why he’d come back to train with me in the first place.

Also because he missed me and thought I was the coolest and best teacher ever, probably.

“Hey, Sora, that rotten Uchiha still with your woman?” Kankurou asked.

Well, there was that, too.

“I don’t have a woman,” Sora muttered, drowning his sorrows.

“You could kick his ass,” Shikanori encouraged him.

“Of course I could,” Sora said, crushing his can in his hand. “But I don’t care.”

Shikamaru gave me a look.

I shrugged.

He shrugged, too, turning his attention back to our shogi match. The only reason he wasn’t completely crushing me was because Gaara, Sora, and I were playing as a team. “When is Izu coming back to train with Sasuke?”

“Hopefully never,” I said cheerfully.

Sora sniffed his disdain.

There was no love lost in this room for Uchiha Izu.

“You look like you could use something a little stronger,” Kankurou said, offering Sora an apology in the form of hard liquor.

The party was really getting started now.

I somehow managed to keep a tiny piece of me sober so I could Advanced Flying Thunder God our asses home.

“Night,” I said, waving Sora off to the guest house. I’d finished building it last summer for when Sakura and Ino and the girls came to stay, but Sora and Izu were getting the most use out of it.

“Night,” he echoed, smiling peacefully. Sometimes getting trashed was good for the soul.

I crept up the stairs, quietly easing the bedroom door open.

Sasuke’s back was to me, the curve of his shoulder illuminated in the moonlight streaming through the window.

My heart tightened.

His shoulder moved rhythmically in time with his breathing.

All I wanted was to wrap him in my arms and squeeze him until we were one being. That was probably a perfect normal urge. I just missed him. He’d done a month at the clinic, then he’d done a month with Karin and Suigetsu, which was apparently something he’d needed. Now even though he was home, it felt like he was a million miles away.

I needed to feel our bond.

I tossed off my shirt, ignoring the chill of the winter air, and slid into bed behind him, hesitating only for a moment before putting my arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

His whole body stiffened. “Don’t.”

Sasuke had two ‘don’t’s. The first went along the lines of, ‘I am a fiercely proud Uchiha who is also vulnerable and shy, so I say ‘don’t’ in order to make it reasonably seem like I am protesting your love and affections which I in reality so deeply desire.’

The other ‘don’t’ just simply meant ‘don’t’, with the added parenthetical that, ‘if you continue, I will annihilate you and everything you hold dear.’

This was clearly the latter, so I pulled away.

He didn’t turn around.

“Sasuke.”

He still didn’t turn around.

I felt annoyed at being ignored. “What’s your problem?”

He turned slowly, eyes fixed in a glare. “You are a fucking moron.”

“Excuse me?” I growled, on my way to full-on anger.

“I can smell it on your breath!” he snapped.

“What, this is about me having a couple of drinks?!” I asked incredulously.

“Oh my god, how are you so fucking clueless?” he muttered, turning away from me.

I caught his shoulder, forcing him to look at me again. “I can drink as much as I damn well want. I’m not you.”

Something shattered behind his eyes, but he was already pulling himself back together before I could figure out what was happening. “Get away from me,” he snarled, shoving me.

“It’s my damn house.”

“That I pay for.”

“After you made me quit my job.”

“That you ha- no, you know what, no. I’m tired. Just get away from me, Naruto, for fuck’s sake.”

“Why should I?” I demanded.

“Because when I smell it, I want a fucking drink you moron!”

It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Fine,” I said, feeling startled and confused. I grabbed my pillow and stumbled out of the room. I found my way to the couch and pulled the afghan off of the back, wrapping myself up and passing out.

I woke up to sunlight, a headache, and slobber on my cheek. I groaned, scrubbing at it. “Makkun, please.”

“Why are you sleeping out here?” the pug asked, waving his tail.

In the continued contentious relationship of Sasuke and Kakashi, our former teacher had somehow thought that a talking dog would be an appropriate olive branch.

And yes, of course I loved our new pet, but he chewed all our furniture and licked all our faces and basically drove Sasuke crazy.

“Coffee,” I said.

“You’re sleeping out here because of… coffee?” Makkun asked, tilting his adorable pug head to the side.

“I’m brewing some now,” Mari said from the kitchen.

“You’re a goddess,” I marveled. I scrubbed at the crust in my eyes and made a few attempts to get off of the couch before finally succeeding.

“Rough night?” Mari asked, pulling some mugs down from the cupboard. One for me, one for her, and one for… Sora?

She caught me eyeing the third cup and hastily shoved it back in the cupboard.

“It’s too early for the nonsense,” I groaned, flopping onto my chair.

“I just miscounted,” she muttered.

“Really? Miss I Can Do Quantum Physics can’t count to two?” I grumbled.

“Is this ever not going to be awkward?” she complained.

“You dumped my disciple! For Sasuke’s disciple! And we all live together!” I cried. “You’re the one who made things awkward!”

“You kind of have me there,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder before pouring the coffee.

“God, please tell me Izu isn’t coming back while Sora’s here,” I prayed to my coffee.

“How long is Sora staying?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Probably until the awkwardness wins over his desire to get stronger.”

Mari did that same frown that Sasuke did when he was worried.

Then Sora came in, pausing when he saw Mari. “Good morning,” he said, giving her the worst imitation of a smile that I’d ever seen. “Is there coffee?”

Mari nodded her head to the pot.

Sora reached up to take the coffee mug from the cupboard that Mari had previously taken out and put back, poured his coffee, and downed the entire mug in one go.

“Go a little too hard last night?” I teased.

“I don’t look as rough as you,” he replied.

Mari snickered.

They smiled at each other briefly.

Sora filled another cup and made an abrupt exit.

Mari turned her frown on me. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“What the hell?!” I protested. “Where is this coming from?!”

“It’s bad enough that you drink all the time, but why do you have to drag Sora into it?”

I stared at her. Then I rubbed my eyes before staring at her some more. “I’m too hungover for this.”

She made a disgusted face at me.

“You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong, and I’m not!” I snapped defensively. “And the main reason Sora was drinking so much was because of you, so….”

“Because nothing is ever your fault,” Mari said, rolling her eyes.

“According to you and Sasuke, everything is my goddamn fault.”

“Pretty much.”

“Mari, can we please not fight?” I groaned.

“Whatever.”

“Thank you.”

We finished our coffee in silence.

“You’re not being fair to him,” Mari finally said, putting her mug in the sink.

“To who?”

She sighed loudly. “Sometimes I understand why everyone thinks you’re dumb.” Then she smacked me in the side of my head.

I gaped at her.

“Sasuke literally just admitted that he’s an alcoholic, and you think it’s fine for you to go out drinking all the time?!” she cried, using excessive hand gestures.

“What does that have to do with my drinking?!” I protested.

“Ugh,” she said, stomping out of the room.

I was feeling offended on top of the horrible headache I had. I went outside and shuffled my hand around the gutter until I found the pack of smokes I’d hidden away. Makkun came and rested his head on my knee while I sat and smoked. I patted him absently, trying to find my center.

Sasuke came outside, squinting into the light and looking like death warmed over. He sat down on the ground next to me, reaching for the cigarette dangling from my mouth.

“Babe, come on, you quit,” I said, holding the cigarette away from him.

“So did you,” he graveled at me, still half-asleep. He took the cigarette and took a drag.

I watched him smoke the cigarette that I had bought, and the gears in my head started sluggishly moving.

“I’m going back to bed,” he said abruptly, handing me the remaining stub that barely had a drag left in it.

I watched him go back into the house.

“Want to go for a run?” Sora asked, coming over to me.

“God, no,” I groaned.

“Come on,” he said.

I dragged myself to my feet. I was actually starting to feel better, the good old kyuubi healing kicking in, but I was still sluggish.

Running on sand was the worst.

We ran, and my head started to clear.

“Sora, am I complete asshole?” I asked as we ran.

He half-smiled. “Sometimes.”

“No, really. Am I insensitive?”

He looked at me, not breaking his stride, studying my face carefully. “I’d say more obtuse than purposefully insensitive.”

“Is that better?” I asked.

He shrugged, directing his sight forward again.

We kept running.

“Thanks for last night,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence. “It’s what I needed. I’m too in my head sometimes, you know?”

“I do know,” I agreed. “It’s okay to relax sometimes, kid.”

“Yeah.”

We ran out to the training area and started sparring. Our stomachs rumbling told us when to take a break and go back to the house.

I washed up quickly before heading to the kitchen, happy to see that Mari had made lunch.

Sasuke hadn’t come back down.

I shoveled some food into my mouth before going upstairs. I knocked on the door and received a grunt of acquiescence, so I opened it and stepped inside.

He was still in bed, wrapped up in blankets.

“Mari made lunch,” I said.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I could just bring you some rice, you know, so you have something on your stomach,” I offered, eyeing the rows of pills lining our nightstand that remained unopened and untaken.

“Okay,” he agreed.

I smiled at him, and he half-smiled back. I brightened even more, going back downstairs to get the rice. I paused in my task and opened one of the cupboards, grabbing a couple of other things.

“Here,” I said, dumping the other stuff on the bed before handing him the rice and chopsticks.

He frowned at the smoking patches. “Trying to tell me something?” I shook my head. “They’re for me,” I said, opening the box and sticking one on my arm.

“So the cigarettes are for me?” he asked, his mouth twisting in amusement.

“They’re for the trash,” I said, throwing them in the wastebasket next to the bed.

“Don’t waste them,” he said with a frown.

“I shouldn’t have bought them in the first place.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re just going to buy more, so don’t throw money away when things are tight.”

I blinked. “Money’s tight?”

He sighed, looking away.

“You didn’t tell me…” I said. “I’ll pick up some ninja jobs.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, waving it off.

“I’m happy to help,” I insisted.

“Well I need you here,” he answered sharply.

I looked at him.

He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

I waited.

“Juugo’s going to Orochimaru’s,” he said suddenly.

“WHAT?!”

“Don’t react like that, you know that Orochimaru knows more about his abilities than anyone else.”

“Which he used and manipulated to make the freaking curse seals!”

“Naruto.”

I took a breath. “Yeah, okay. I know Juugo’s been… losing it more often lately, but I dunno. He belongs with us, not creepy ass Orochimaru.”

“Orochimaru will help him, and then he will come back where he belongs.” There was a little spark in his eyes as he spoke.

“Do you really think he can help?” I asked, sitting next to him. I thought about letting our shoulders brush, then thought better of it.

“He’ll try,” Sasuke said. He handed me the half-empty rice bowl.

I put it on the nightstand.

Sasuke wrinkled his nose.

“So you need me here to take care of the kids or what?” I asked, ignoring his expression. I could take the bowl with me when I went back downstairs, no reason to make two trips.

Sasuke was quiet, still frowning at the rice bowl. “I need you,” he finally said.

“It doesn’t feel like you need me,” I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice and failing. “It feels like quite the opposite.”

“Naruto,” he said, voice strained.

“It’s like there’s a hole inside of me, and I keep trying to find ways to fill it, but nothing helps,” I told him, clenching my fists to try and stay calm. “So, yeah, I’ve been drinking a lot lately, and I’m starting to see why that’s not really fair to you, but I need something, some kind of escape. I can’t do this day in and day out, have you stay up in your room all the time and barely talk to me, barely touch me, barely even look at me. This is the most you’ve talked to me all month, Sasuke, and I just… Sas’, baby, love, please, I need something.”

“…I don’t have anything to give to you.”

I started to cry out of frustration and quickly composed myself. “Is this how you feel every day?” I whispered. “Like something’s missing?”

“You could say that.”

I looked at his stoic face. “I can’t imagine what you go through, you know? I really can’t. I wish I was more understanding. I wish I didn’t do stupid things like come home drunk. I’m trying to be better, but it hurts and-fuck I want a cigarette,” I growled, scratching at the patch on my arm. I tried to think about things that weren’t painful and hopeless so I didn’t become an emotional mess again.

“You don’t need to try, Naruto.”

I looked at him with thankfully dry eyes. “Why, you already gave up on me?”

He smacked me in the arm, and it actually filled me with joy. “No, dumbass.”

“Then what?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up. No matter how much I wanted Sasuke to just shake off his depression, he had to work through it in his own way and in his own time.

“You give me what I need,” he said. “I don’t always want what you have to give, but you always give me what I need.”

“I don’t really think I get it.”

“That’s fine. But if you come into my bed reeking of alcohol one more time I will decapitate you.”

“Okay,” I agreed, because he wasn’t really going to decapitate me. Probably.

“Just stay at Gaara’s,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though all you want is an escape, and I’m off selfishly having one?”

“Wow, moron, you actually understood the situation for once.”

“I understand things.”

“You’re an understander?”

“How did you know I was going to say that?”

“Because I love your dumb ass.”

“I love your dumb ass, too.”

“That wasn’t as cute as you think it was,” Sasuke muttered, looking a little happier.

“I’m very cute,” I said, grinning at him.

“You’re fucking old is what you are,” he said, but there was actually humor in his voice so I didn’t get mad.

We sat quietly for a while.

“We’re not good for each other right now,” Sasuke finally said.

“You said you needed me.”

“And that was shitty of me,” he said, shaking his head. “I really just want you to sit at my beck and call while I continue to ignore you.”

“So you admit it,” I said, but there was no ‘ah-ha’ to it. We’d played this game long enough to know all of each other’s moves.

“Go somewhere with Sora. Go travel.”

“I’m not going to just take off on you when Juugo’s gone, too.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“The kids do.”

Sasuke looked down at his lap. “Mari will be here.”

“Well, let’s talk to her,” I said. “I’m not going to just assume that she’s willing to take on all that responsibility, and I don’t want her to feel obligated, either.”

“…can you do it?” The light was already starting to drain from his eyes.

I swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll go talk to her now.” I stood up to leave.

Sasuke caught my wrist.

I swallowed again, willing myself to be the strong, manly man that I always claimed to be.

“I’m going to be better when you come back,” he said. He pushed some chakra into me before letting go.

“When I come back from talking with Mari?” I teased. That little bit of chakra was sending tingles up and down my spine.

“Dummy,” he said, rolling away from me and pulling the covers up.

“That would make me really happy,” I said, watching as Sasuke and the bed slowly became the same inanimate object.

He didn’t answer.

I picked up the bowl from the nightstand and headed down the stairs.

#narusasu #fanfiction #isola post traumatic

4 notes · View notes