#is it okay if i mention once more that i love pepe? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

santanasaintmendes · 3 months ago

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“crazy, crazy, crazy for you baby. . . ”

“what can I do honey? i feel like the colour blue”

wc!: 3.5k words + smau insta post (i just can’t write small fics im sorry 😔)

pepe martí x fem!reader

type: angst + fluff ending

warnings: mentions of barfing (not in detail), swearing, angsty, jumping out of a window (jokingly), embarrassing reader 😓 if there are anymore let me know!

summary: you and pepe have the cute teenage love most people would be jealous of, but with the two of you busy with your own things is it as perfect as it may seem?

requested by @cwafffle 💖

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this! I had an absolute blast writing it, i’ve never written something so intense lol anyways enjoy, I hope it’s as good as you hoped!

Love isn’t perfect, it’s something everybody knows. So surely loving someone should be worth hurting this much for . . . right?

Your relationship with Pepe used to be perfect, everything you’d dreamt of and more.

It wasn’t always like this, the hurting and the endless waiting for one another to meet the other half way. Although it may seem like a century ago, you and Pepe were once happy. Dating him was like a dream you never wanted to come out of. Pepe was your first ever boyfriend, the two of you attended the same high school in Barcelona where he was in your classes. Initially you never paid attention to him much, sitting on the other side of the classroom near the window.

But he took the crown whenever it came to popularity contests, he always had a bunch of people - mostly girls, following him around and by the looks of it he enjoyed it. Everyone knew how impressive he was at karting, by the time you were both 15 he was up and ready to make his debut in Formula 4.

The first time he ever spoke to you was when you were both appointed partners for a science project. “You’re Y/N, right?” a voice asked, sending your train of thoughts spiralling as you looked up from your textbook. Pepe stood next to you, peering down at you, eyebrows raised. You sent him a brief nod, “Yep.” you said awkwardly as he took a seat next to you. The two of you sat in silence as the teacher called out other students’ names. Slowly, you turned your head to look at the boy who was sitting beside you. You’d heard all sorts of things about the famous star of your school, Pepe Marti but you’d never thought you’d be partnered up to do a project of all things. His hair was jet black and . . . he had pretty eyes and-

Pepe must’ve sensed you staring at him because he met your gaze, “You okay. . .?” he asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed red as you cleared your throat, “Of course, I was just uh . . . looking at the plant behind you?” you stated, looking for the closest thing in your view. You could’ve died right there on the spot as Pepe turned to look at the plant you’d pointed out. It was half dead and withering brown.

He slowly turned back around, nodding slowly, “Um, okay.” he chuckled nervously. You would’ve jumped out of the window if you weren’t in class, he probably thought you were a weirdo now. You nodded along, playing it off very awkwardly. You cleared your throat, “Anyways, my place or yours?” you blurted out, your face twisting into horror as you realised what you’d asked, immediately wanting to dig a grave and jump in. It sounded so bad without context.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raised in concern. “No wait. What I meant to ask was, do you want to do the project at my house or yours?” you could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. You just KNEW your face was tomato red as Pepe slowly nodded, “Oh. I don’t mind.”

You winced, as you turned to look out the window, almost wanting to cry of embarrassment. You turned back to Pepe, a forced smile plastered on your face. “Is my house okay then?” you asked, relief washing over you as you finally said something that made sense without embarrassing yourself. He nodded as the bell rang, signalling lunch time, he stood up sending you a brief smile. “See you this afternoon then.”

Surprisingly, when Pepe came over that afternoon to begin the project you managed to keep your cool. Turned out that he was pretty chill and a funny guy, the two of you began to crack jokes and it was like you both clicked. After that, people at school would stare at you as you both would be on the verge of tears from laughing, both lost in your own little world. You learned all about his racing career and his family. As the closer the two of you got, it finally felt like you’d found someone who understood you.

Pepe was by far the kindest and funniest guy you’d ever met and to be fair you’d never really been rather good with boys, but he made being his friend like the easiest thing in the world. You began to feel light and your stomach fluttery whenever you were around him, then it hit you like a whirlwind, you liked him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be swept off your feet like that, hell someone could open a door for you and you’d be thinking about it for months. But with Pepe it was different, it felt different. And you couldn’t help but wonder if he liked you the same way.

It was a peaceful November afternoon when Pepe invited you out on a walk, going on walks together wasn’t uncommon for the two of you. He’d just finished his first season of Formula 4 and he couldn’t have been in higher spirits. It hadn’t been a total bust and that’s all he could’ve asked for. There was just one more thing he had to do to seal the deal.

The two of you walked silently through the park, admiring the beautiful colours of the autumn leaves that slowly fell and twirled in the gentle wind. You looked over at Pepe who was staring at his feet as if he was nervous.

“You okay?” you asked, slightly concerned with your friend’s silence since he’d picked you up from your house. He nodded but didn’t meet your eyes so the two of you slowly walked in silence. It was getting weird, the silence, usually Pepe was the one who led the entire conversation, sometimes with even the most randomest things.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing bad happened, right?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Pepe stopped in his tracks and turned to you with an unreadable expression, he was making you nervous. He took a deep breath in as he locked eyes with you, “I like you.”

“I mean we’ve been friends for a while. I think it would be weird if you didn’t like me.” you chuckled but you paused when you saw his expression. OH. OHHHHH.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face, he didn’t mean it like that. He meant it in the way you’ve always wanted him to. Pepe liked you. It hadn’t fully sunk in but you felt like you’d been given laughing gas as you began to laugh uncontrollably much to Pepe’s surprise. This was definitely not going the way he thought it would as you gasped for air, holding onto him for support.

“You are really the weirdest person I know.” he murmured as you regained your composure. You smiled at him teasingly as you wiggled your eyebrows, nudging him playfully.

“But you like me.”

“I’m starting to regret telling you.” he grumbled as he folded his arms across his chest. You smiled at him, it felt like you were in a dream. If it was, you never wanted to be woken up again.

“It’s okay, I like you too.” you replied as you continued walking, leaving a wide-eyed Pepe gaping. He ran to catch up with you, “Wait, are you serious?” he asked, a giant grin on his face.

“Of course, I’m always serious.” you replied earnestly as you admired his dimples that stuck out with his smile. You were playing it cool but inside of you it felt as if you’d gotten struck by Cupid’s arrow, you couldn’t help but have a grin on your face.

“I think this is the part where you ask me out.” you whispered to him, he nodded playing along. “Oh right.” he cleared his throat before taking your hands in his, his gentle touch making your heart flutter as he looked into your eyes.

“Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, go on a date with me?”

You couldn’t help but engulf him in a giant hug, “Of course I will.” you whispered in his ear as he held you. If only you could’ve seen how giant his smile was.

The next few months after that were absolute blissful perfection. Being Pepe’s girlfriend was everything you’d ever dreamt of and more. He was a gentleman through and through. The first ever date he took you on was to a giant amusement park not too far from his house. The day ended with you puking a couple of times after going on the rides but nonetheless it was perfect. The two of you bought popcorn and walked up a hill to watch the sunset. That was when Pepe took you by surprise and kissed you, it wasn’t forced nor rushed it was everything you’d ever wanted.

Pepe soon moved up to Formula 3, his first year brought a lot of challenges and unfortunately wasn’t his greatest year. But you were there to comfort him everytime he wasn’t able to get as far as he thought he would. The second year was a huge improvement though with him winning two sprint races, one in Bahrain and the other in Monaco. Then came his first feature race win in his own country, he felt like he was finally flying.

As you continued in school, the time you both spent together became harder and harder to manage. It was just natural, when Pepe got into Formula 2 his career demanded that he fly further away and more often. You were occupied with your own things, you were studying International Relations and working on the side. Calls and facetiming became less frequent, neither having the time anymore. You selfishly wished Pepe didn’t have to be so far away, that he could be closer to home, closer to you.

But it wasn’t something you could control, you wished you could’ve just ignored how bad it was getting. That you could’ve told yourself it was fine and moved on, but it wasn't fine. You felt alone, and you shouldn’t be feeling that when you’re in a relationship, it didn’t take a genius to understand that. Pepe barely came home anymore, you always slept alone, you always watched movies alone, you always went on walks alone. Things you knew you should’ve been doing with Pepe, but the truth was that he was a million miles away. You knew you could never ask him to leave something he loved so dearly, you just wished that you were a priority in his life. To be the only thing he thought about, to be the thing that brought him home every week.

But the truth?

You’d never be a priority in his life as long as racing was in it. How you wished that you could be okay with his absence, okay with the fact that it felt like you weren’t even in a relationship anymore. You thought the two of you would be able to figure it out, that it would naturally fix itself but that just wasn’t how relationships worked. The thing about relationships?

That no matter how much you can ignore the cracks in your relationship, you’re both going to fall in, no matter what.

It had been a rough couple of months for you especially with Pepe flying all around the world for his next race. He’d texted- not called, you the night before letting you know that he’d be coming home this weekend for the first time in what felt like forever. You told him that you could pick him up from the airport but he insisted that you’d be too tired to, so you told him you’d wait for him at home.

Rain gently pattered against the windows of your apartment that was dimly lit by the lamps in your living room. You were on your computer working on your latest assignment, something you were finding trouble focusing on, all the words seemed to jumble up like they’d been barfed all over your screen. You knew what was distracting you, it was the fact that Pepe was coming home tonight, that you were going to do something you’d never thought you would in a million years. You were going to break up with him.

Just the thought made you sick to your stomach. There was a soft jangle of keys in the front door that made you look up. Pepe walked through the door but he was a couple months too late in your mind. He met your eyes and smiled, “Hola, hermosa.” (Hey gorgeous)

You hated the way he thought that everything was okay, almost like he hadn’t missed you as much as you’d missed him. “Hi.” is all you said in a flat tone. You remained seated on the couch, no more giant hugs or smothering him in kisses, only silence. You looked back at your computer that was still on and shut it. Pepe could sense something was wrong, that you were unhappy, unhappy with him.

“Everything okay. . .?” he asked gently as he set down his bags on the counter top. You stood up, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Anger began to rise inside of you, you wanted him to know, to understand how much you were hurting, how much you were suffering alone in this relationship.

“I’m always serious, princesa.” (princess) he joked but his smile fell when he saw that you weren’t smiling with him.

“Don’t, don’t do that, you can’t just charm your way out of this.” you told him, “You can’t just pretend like everything’s okay.”

“I’m not, just tell me what’s wrong.” Pepe said defensively. You sighed, “You really don’t know what’s wrong, do you?” you asked him.

“Stop acting like I’m dumb or something, just tell me.” he persisted. You scoffed, pulling away from him as he reached out for you. The hurt in his eyes made you want to run out the front door and never look back.

“You’re never around anymore, you’re so busy with your racing that you barely come home anymore. It’s as if you don’t even live here anymore, we don’t call anymore when you’re away. You leave me here all alone by myself and expect everything to be fine, well guess what? It’s not.” you blurted out everything you’d been keeping in the last few months.

“Oh so it’s all my fault then?” Pepe asked, shaking his head as if disappointed. You took a deep breath in to steady your anger.

“I didn’t say it was all your fault.” you shot back angrily, folding your arms across your chest defensively.

“Yeah well it sure seems like that’s what you’re implying.” he scoffed, oh you just could’ve strangled him. How could he be like this?

“I wasn’t implying anything, I’m just telling you how I feel, but clearly you don’t care at all.” you raised your voice, your hands were already shaking.

“Don’t do that, Y/N.” Pepe warned but you were already too far gone.

“Do what?” you asked, “Do what, huh? This is all your fault, you were right.”

“Well maybe if being my girlfriend is too hard for you then you shouldn’t be it anymore.” Pepe shot back angrily. There was a long moment of silence as the words did their damage. No matter how much he wished he could’ve taken the words back and apologised instead, he couldn’t.

“Y/N, I-”

“You’re so fucking selfish, I wish, I wish that you cared more. That you actually cared about me enough to fix this. I wish that you loved me as much as I love you. . . but you don’t. I want to break up.” you told him, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What?”

You took a deep breath in, “I want to break up.” you repeated. Words couldn’t explain how hurt Pepe looked as you told him that, you felt awful like your heart had been ripped out of you. But deep down you knew this had to happen, love wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Love shouldn’t be one suffering whilst the other thrives. For once, you were going to put yourself and your feelings first no matter how much you knew it was going to hurt Pepe.

3 MONTHS LATER

liked by bestie1, bestie2, bestie 3 and 243 others

yourusername: life lately <3

tagged bestie1, bestie2 and bestie3

view 312 comments

bestie1: ❤️

user1: y/n’s first post without pepe i think i might die 😭

user2: sigh my favourite f2 couple

user3: i’m a child of divorce 😔

user4: ya’ll im confused what happened between y/n and pepe?

user5: i heard it was bad 😬

user6: they broke up bc of the long distance and some other stuff

user4: oh damn, i thought they were going to last

user6: didn’t we all

user7: i don’t think i’ll ever get used to seeing pepe without y/n

user8: they were the perfect couple, i mean high school sweethearts are u joking

user9: literally crying. it’s the onions its the onions

user10: goodbye i’m going to go jump off a cliff now

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3 was beginning to be an unlucky number for you, 3 letters in bad, 3 months without Pepe and somehow you still felt as shitty as you did when you broke up with him. He constantly occupied your mind, it felt like a giant chunk of your heart had been taken from you. You wished you could just move on from him, be okay and come to terms with the fact that you were no longer together. But some part of you refused to accept it.

It didn’t help that every instagram post you put up got flooded with comments, both good and bad, mostly wondering why you and Pepe had broken up. It wasn’t any help at all, all of it just a torturing reminder of what you’d lost that night.

God, you missed him. You missed the cute spanish nicknames he’d call you, you missed his touch, you missed when he would drop you off at university everyday and pick you up when the day had ended. But most of all you missed how he made you feel, feel like you mattered.

You were walking home, the spring offering nothing except bad hayfever in your case. The day was finished and another exhausting day of uni was over. You climbed the stairs up to your apartment, when you and Pepe had broken up he was the one who moved out.

You unlocked the front door and let it swing open, greeted with nothing but silence. The apartment seemed so empty, so dead now that Pepe was gone. You wish you could hate him more, blame him for everything but that wasn’t right because you knew you were just as at fault as he was.

You placed your bag down on the kitchen bench and slumped down on the couch, groaning loudly as the doorbell rang. Who on earth would be at the door? You wondered as you got up, you weren’t expecting anyone, none of your friends had made any plans.

You opened the door, half expecting it to be your friend but you were rendered silent as Pepe stood in the hallway. The air in your throat got sucked out as you stared at him, you couldn't fight the fact that you wanted to kiss him right there and then. Apologise over and over again, because the truth was that you wanted him back.

“Hi.” you finally said, as you looked up at him.

“Hi.” he breathed as if he was out of breath, did he run up the stairs?

“I ran up the stairs, that’s why I’m puffed.” he explained, you nodded slowly unsure what to do with that information.

“But I’m here to. . . to say sorry,” he admitted, “I said awful things to you that night and you were right, as usual. I didn’t see how badly I was breaking us apart, it was selfish and I should have never let you walk away. Because fuck without you I don’t know who I am. If I could take back what I said I would, but I can’t so I’m here trying to do the next best thing and apologise. I don’t expect you to forgive me so easily because I wouldn’t either but just know that if you let me I will do everything to make up for the lost time and everything I wrecked.”

You stood in silence, fighting the urge to pull him by the collar and kiss him. And well, that’s exactly what you did. Lips on his, you kissed him, making up for all the lost time you’d been without him, it wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

“You’re crazy.” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, pulling him into a hug. As he held you it felt right, it felt like home.

“Crazy for you, baby.” he grinned, and it was true.

Fin ~

a/n: I hope you enjoyed! have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

#Spotify #formula 2 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smau #f2 smau #formula 2 #pepe marti #f2 fanfic #f2 x you #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #f2 angst #f2 fluff #f2 fic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #xoxorequests 💖

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baenyth · 4 months ago

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Bethany's Bizarre Miraculous Reviews Episode 4-19: Simpleman

This one's going to be fun. I can tell.

So far, it is! Marinette hiding the Miracle Box and suggesting that they draw only to find pictures of Adrien but that doesn't work and then more kids come along,

Oh god that fic was wrong. But are the teens telling their parents about this?

Also it's so good to see the kids with friends their age. Fun fact: I didn't have that. I didn't even have cousins my age on my father's side. Well, second cousins that one time...

So does Chris have his personality here or?

Kwami abuse

Kids and one movie. My one movie was Monsters Incorporated.

This is a Pepe-Silvia-ass chart.

The Chocolate Convention

Fei Wu mentioned

Wow, Grandpa's doing a better job than I thought!

You should probably explain it to him in term of older tech. A computer can be seen as a typewriter with a color TV screen, and a laptop is just a portable compressed computer. I have no idea how to describe the touchpad, though. Or the mouse. Wait, the mouse is like a puppet!

pffft Roland got the same confusion as everyone else on Tumblr that didn't immediately get into Miraculous (not me. I'm built different.)

Wait, does he not know about Ladybug and Chat Noir? He was akumatized once! Or did he not know what was going on then? Is he that much of a shut-in?

VHS, baby!

That's more than just complicated! That's just manipulative!

I feel like in my hypothetical "I get isekai'd as a fully-passing woman into Miraculous Paris and become Marinette's adoptive older sister" thing Grandpa Rolland would either love or hate me.

Grandpa's not handling the chaos well

This is one of the best akumas in the show.

Blud did not think things through

Yippee!!!!!

They're okay!

I was right. This is one of the best akumas in the show!

Don't complain, kids. Vanilla's a good flavor!

They should at least get more candy than that. All the candy in the world.

Alternatively, just get Chat Noir to cataclysm the paddle. That's extra simple!

At this point the universe itself is preventing Marinette from confessing to Adrien. This universe lacks Phineas and Ferb and desperately needs it.

Grandpa Rolland would love The Brave Little Toaster. Honestly it would be cool if he showed the kids older films like Willy Wonka and stuff like that.

Oh! I almost forgot! I had an idea for a rewrite of this episode. Basically instead of Rolland getting akumatized, a different akuma shows up that's far too hard for Ladybug, Chat Noir, and any aids they bring along. Grandpa Rolland takes matters into his own hands, dons a superhero suit that's literally just the same as his Simpleman fit but not as blue, and beats the stuffing out of the akuma. Ladybug and Chat Noir are baffled but just glad that it's over. Also the amount of kids Grandpa Rolland ends up looking after is inexplicably increased to Manon and all of the little siblings in Marinette's class. Ivan's little sister mentioned in the one card game. Rose's four gremlin little brothers I headcanon she has. Juleka's half-sibling twins from her father Gregory Steel. Nathaniel's first cousins once-removed but to make things simpler (ha!) he just calls them his nephew and niece. Audrey had a second affair and now there's a blond five-year-old in Paris. Jalil is there for some reason.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette #ml ladybug #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #chat noir #ml chat noir #rolland dupain

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writer-and-artist27 · 1 year ago

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heyyy! i hope it’s okay for me to ask on anon like this, but i’ve been reading passing days recently and really enjoying it! i know a few of the crypters (and Vy’s opinions of them) have already been mentioned but i really want to know what she thinks of each of them. does she dislike them all? can she empathise with any of them? can she ever forgive any of them for what they’ve done so far?

Hi Anon - it's alright for you to ask like this. This kind of respectful ask is one I honestly wasn't expecting, and it's definitely a pleasant surprise considering how quiet Passing Days seems to be amongst the general reader-base of FGO. (Aside from the one person who likes to edit the TV Tropes page and add entries in the YMMV category I just don't agree with at all...) So, if anything, thank you for sending this.

As for Vy's opinions on the Crypters... Putting under a "read more" cut for length. And cursing.

------------------------------

My first reaction in her voice was a blunt, "They all suck." Basically answering your first question as to whether she dislikes them all. She does.

When asking for more details, though, what it really comes down to is how they reacted when it came to Chaldea breaching their respective Lostbelts. And, as much as Vy could sympathize with them all to an extent in wanting to achieve their own goals (Ophelia wanting to help Kirschtaria, Hinako in wanting to see her husband, Pepe in supporting the other Crypters and keeping up the ideal world of Lostbelt 4) - there's still one major factor that keeps up her dislike of them in general.

No matter how much the fanbase likes to put the Crypters in a good light, all 7 of them still chose to forsake Proper Human History for their own lives. They all chose to fight on the Foreign God's side and kill the remnants of Chaldea - from the last few staff members, to the original Antarctic base, to even Mash - for their own hides. And while it's understandable, to Vy, "a cool motive does not excuse actual and attempted murder." The various Lostbelts and their own goals just add extra salt into a wound that Vy's never going to forgive them for.

It's why I wrote her being particularly brutal on Wodime in the Atlantis and Olympus chapters, even if it was "bizarre" to some readers. Because Wodime's plans for humanity still denied the lives of Vy's family - both human and Servant in and out of Chaldea. Wodime's idea of saving everyone would only save the select few in Olympus who agreed, and add in his lack of foresight in preparing for Muramasa being able to cut down Atlas and the Foreign God descending - yeah. For a girl who loves her friends and family like no tomorrow, that kinda thing is just inexcusable.

Overall? None of the Crypters are getting any mercy from her. Even if Vy empathized and liked Ophelia and Pepe enough to be somewhat friendly with them. Even if Vy summoned Hinako back to be with her husband. They all still chose to abide to the original Chaldea being killed and her family being bleached away. Beryl and Daybit and Kadoc in particular are gonna have the worst of her since their first impressions on her were basically jack shit.

There was a cut scene from the first draft of Kadoc's chapter/Day 63, where Vy would've actually slapped him for all of his gaslighting in Lostbelt 1, not to mention bullying of Mash. Once we start getting to things like Traum and Lostbelt 7, that'll definitely be revisited.

#vy says something #writing thoughts #passing days #mastersona vy #oc things #fate grand order #ask #asks #thank you anon #long post #writer thoughts #cosmos in the lostbelt

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icedmatchatae · 2 years ago

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Cien Años | KNJ

Pairing: Best Friend Namjoon x Best Friend Reader

Genre: Hanahaki AU, Angst, Fluff (barely)

Summary: A sad story of two best friends who loved each other for different reasons.

Warning: UR GONNA BE SAD, namjoon being in denial, oc being out of the loop, flashbacks :(, a lot of crying from everyone, mentions of death (nobody dies tho!), mentions of surgery, illness, unrequited love, there's somewhat of a happy ending!

Word count: 15.1k because I'm a menace

Note: Italics are flashbacks.

A/N: Inspired by the song "Cien Años" by Natalia Lafourcade & Pepe Aguilar. My friends told me to write a story about it...so I did.

I've also cross-posted this originally on AO3 as well! Enjoy~~~

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

Trembling fingers gripping onto your daisy bouquet as you controlled your shaky breathing. You faced the closed doors, waiting for the queue. One by one, you saw your bridesmaids leave you until you were alone. A light sheen of sweat expanded on your back; luckily, the laced fabric hid your nervousness of today.

What awaited inside would be your most anticipated life-changing event yet. Once you leave there, two souls become one, purposeful promises are committed with expected hardship to overcome. The day you are officially united with the love of your life.

You’ve been waiting for this day, and you couldn’t wait any longer. At the other side of the doors, there stood your soon-to-be husband smiling like a maniac. You wanted this so badly, nervous because the ceremony separated you from your soulmate. But it’ll be okay.

Because he was worth it.

He was dressed in a suit with his hands intertwined behind his back.

His mouth opened in awe at the sight of you. You slowly walked down the aisle with your father at your left side. His arm linked firmly around yours. With bittersweet eyes, he looked like he didn’t want to let you go but knew he had to for the best.

Your dress flowed down with grace, the train behind dragging along the carpeted floor. Your effortless beauty that it shined through your sheer veil. You held onto your favorite flowers, handpicked by him, and will forever keep them in your memories.

Your smile beamed through your family, friends, and esteemed guests, but he could tell how anxious you were deep inside. He knew how much love you had in you, how much soul and care you had to offer. He knew everything about you. After all—

Namjoon has loved you ever since you were younger.

When you first met Namjoon, you were about 11. The smartest nerd in school was your partner for a science project. Between the introduction and the first place win, you’ve gotten to know him much better and enjoyed his presence.

It baffled you to discover the lanky boy with thick-rimmed rectangular glasses and who wore velcro shoes listened to Nas and Eminem. Did you mention that he had a bowl cut? Because he did.

He only fascinated you, even more, wanting to befriend you, not realizing he would be one of the most influential people in your life. He quickly became your best friend, and you were inseparable. You graduated high school and college together and even were roommates for many years.

You never saw life without him, your best friend.

Being together more than half of your life, Namjoon didn’t realize the day he met you was the first sign of him falling in love with you.

“Why do you have so much sugar?” Namjoon questioned, observing you next to him when you pulled out a ziplock bag of sugar packets. You pulled one out and ripped it open. You shook the pouch over your mouth, collecting the sweetener on your taste buds. He unapologetically grimaced at you.

“It’s a snack; also, since my mom said I’m too young to drink coffee, I took all of the sugar in our house since I get so much energy.” You simply explained, offering him a packet.

He paused and sighed, joining you in eating packets and packets until you both were a giggling mess.

You were pretty odd, almost lacking social cues, but he couldn’t be one to talk since he was awkward himself. Your aura was not something he was used to, but he never regretted it and grew to love your unusualness. It was one of the characteristics of why he loved you dearly.

Your bright smile, aggravating yet endearing personality, and how much you gave yourself to others wholeheartedly created a rippling effect on his heart. But almost too much as it lets you get hurt by others.

He remembered the day you came home with shedding tears falling on your face. He was working on a group essay in your shared living room with Jimin, a friend and peer from his classes, when a loud bang disrupted their concentration.

“He cheated on me!” You sobbed as you dropped your things to the wooden floor. You quickly spotted your best friend and tackled him. You clutched onto his shirt, pushing your head into his chest with your cries staining the fabric.

Without second-guessing, Namjoon wrapped his arms around your fragile form, kissing your hair. He rubbed your back as you continued to sob at your broken heart. He eyed Jimin, apologizing for the interruption, but he understood. The shorter man gestured for him to text him later before departing your home.

After your weeping died down, you explained how you saw your boyfriend of seven months cuddling and making out with another girl at a coffee shop on the other side of the city from where you lived. With the bit of courage you had, you confronted Seokjin and threw your boiling hot tea at him before running away.

Namjoon was angry for you and wanted to beat Seokjin up for doing this to you. But what’s worse, this wasn’t the first time something had happened. You were hurt by many others before because you gave too quickly; you gave the benefit of the doubt to those undeserving of it.

You tried your best to learn from your mistake and took extra precautions, but somehow the next man in your life gets trickier and more conniving than the last.

“Why does this happen to me?”

You sat on your apartment complex’s rooftop, looking at the bright glowing city. It was past midnight; Namjoon thought it was a great idea to get some convenience store snacks and ramen while you get some fresh air.

“Like was I a descendent of Judas?” You rhetorically asked.

“I’m not a theology major, but I don’t think Judas had any children.” He pointed out as he slurped his noodles.

You glared at him and his intelligence, “Don’t correct me now.” You slammed your ramen bowl on the makeshift table made from a stack of wooden pallets. “I thought he was the one.”

“I know you’re hurt, flower. Hurt is only temporary. You’ll heal; it’ll take time, though. It’s really shitty that it happened to you.” His comforting words eased your emotional state, using his nickname for you.

It wasn’t anything cute. He only does it because you told him you used to eat flowers when you were younger. Your parents were scared and brought you to the hospital, it was a whole thing, but he liked to pick on you and made sure you wouldn’t forget your stupidity.

“Is there something wrong with me? Be honest.” You genuinely asked. Your puffy eyes met his, waiting for his response.

He stared at you. Underneath the full moon and the illumination from the cityscape, faint shadows fell onto your features. Your irises sparkled with the dimming sense of hope in you. He hated seeing you like this, seeing the light in you slowly giving up.

He placed down his bowl before reaching for your hands. He intertwined your fingers together, comparing the size difference between you two. He grinned lightly, but enough to display the dimples on his cheeks.

“Seokjin was stupid and never realized what was before him.” He answered, licking his lips and tasting the spice of the meal. Your mouth curled at his words, holding his fingers tightly around yours. “Nothing is wrong with you, just your taste in men.”

“Hey!” You let go of him and slapped his shoulder, pouting your lips. “Stop it!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He chuckled, putting his hands in surrender.

“I’m questioning why you’re my best friend.” You seethed through your teeth.

“Flower, you’re one of the most special people.”

You snorted at his comment, “Nice try.”

“It’s true.” He countered. His smile faded a little, noticing your lack of confidence. “Special people like you will get infinite wishes that your little heart desires. Everything you hope for will come true. You’ll get what you truly deserve, flower. It’ll just take time.”

You gazed back at him. The twinkling lights in your pupils appeared at his reassurance. “Thank you, Joon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It was a common exchange between you two, but little did Namjoon know, it held a deeper meaning.

Though Seokjin never saw what was in front of him, Namjoon never noticed what he had until it was too late.

Years passed, and you eventually moved on from your heartbreak, having Namjoon by your side. You seemed happier and cheerful while he watched you. But you never were with anyone ever since.

You went on to bigger and better things, like landing a high-paying corporate job after college. Namjoon also was doing well, from being an intern climbed his way to the top in being the art curator at the national museum. You were both proud of each other and your accomplishment, always cheered one another on when times got tough.

However, despite your successes, you agreed it was time to move out of your janky apartment and part ways. It was a harsh transition since you’ve seen each other every day for over ten years, but you made it work. You promised to text and call every day and update anything that happened.

Namjoon could never leave you and you the same back. Again, you and he were inseparable.

You two scheduled dinner at the end of the week. Ever since you got promoted, your schedule restricted you from spending time with him, but you kept your promise to call and text. Namjoon was currently working on his first major project for the museum and was excited to tell you all about it. You couldn’t wait either.

But for now, he had lunch with Jimin at a café since the shorter finally had time in his hectic residency life.

“It was so wild. I saw anything like it before.” Jimin talked about a patient he had and their diagnosis, Hanahaki Disease.

Jimin explained how Hanahaki Disease was this exponentially progressing illness that stemmed from unrequited love. Flowers–the popular indication of the disease–bloom in the person’s lungs and heart and can only be intensified. His patient had stage four of this Hanahaki Disease.

“I’ve read about it in the books, and cases were rare. Seeing it first hand was very tragic.” Jimin sighed, recalling his experience.

“What does stage four mean?” Though Namjoon was skeptical, he was interested in this so-called disease.

“It means the roots from the flowers have grown into his respiratory system. He came in choking on his blood and coughing up sunflowers.”

“Why sunflower?”

“It was his wife’s favorite flowers.” Jimin’s face gloomed lower. “Poor guy caught her cheating, and the painful love was too strong.”

Namjoon hissed at the thought, “I feel for him.”

“Yeah, so at that point, he either dies or gets surgery to remove the roots.” The shorter concluded. “Sorry for the depressing story, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’re good, man,” Namjoon reassured. “Though you saw it, it’s quite an unusual diagnosis, don’t you think? I mean, doesn’t it sound far-fetched? Like love really made that happen?”

“It does, but you won’t think that way if you saw it in front of you. Love can do a lot to someone.” Jimin reasoned back. “There’s little evidence on it, but it does happen.”

The pairing sat in silence, processing the tragic story. Namjoon wondered how severe love has to be for you to end up like that. He had never really experienced that kind of love before; it wasn’t hard to love, in his opinion, but loving someone had to be chosen wisely and thoughtfully. Love shouldn’t hurt.

“Anyways, besides me and flower vomiting patients, how are you and the art life?” Jimin changed the subject to a lighter feel. He knew about Namjoon’s project and was impatient to see the final product. “How’s the project? What was it about again?”

“It’s going great. Stressful, but I’m enjoying every bit of it.” He smiled, thinking about his passion. “I guess your story was a great transition to my project. It’s about love. Various meanings and interpretations of love worldwide, so I’ve been obtaining many pieces overseas to display them.”

“Ahh, so you’re gonna get typical ones like The Kiss by Gustav Klimt or that one by Picasso?” Jimin semi-mocked, incorporating very little knowledge about art.

“No, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Namjoon rolled his eyes, munching on his salad. “The museum wanted me to go through a different approach and find more modern and recent artists.”

“So, like up and coming artists?” The shorter asked, and he hummed in response. “I guess, what type of approach are you having with love?”

“Well, love is more than a feeling. It’s hard to put into words. It’s an essence that can be explained through various points of view.”

“Yeah, Mr. Smartass. Stop being so technical!”

“I’m just saying! Love causes emotions. It’s a concept to profess desires and connectedness to someone within an individual, so that’s why that Hanahaki Disease seems exaggerated.” Namjoon argued his thoughts. “I’m not saying love doesn’t exist or anything. It’s here somewhere.”

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.” Jimin scoffed, leaning back into his chair. Namjoon ignored his comment like usual before his phone pinged a message.

It was you, and he was delighted to open it. A picture of your lunch, or rather lunches. He saw another plate from the opposite end of the table. It was probably Ryujin, your coworker buddy you spent your time with.

“Is that ___?” Jimin had a devilish smile on him.

“Yeah?? What about it?” Namjoon replied to you with, “Bruh, that looks bomb. Enjoy!” And locked his screen before paying attention to his friend before him. “You know we communicate a lot.”

“Yes, I know the many instances.” Jimin agreed. “But seeing you smile just by a text says more than you say. Actions speak louder than words!”

“Jimin, we’re not going through with this again.” The taller shook his head at his friend’s persistence. “I told you I don’t love her like that. She’s been my best friend for years!”

“Yeah, but I don’t see you giggling, kicking your feet, and twirling your hair thinking about me.” Jimin retorted, folding his arms over his chest. “You probably don’t notice it since you’ve been with her all this time, but you give one another so much, more than friends usually do.”

“Maybe, it’s just you because you end up sleeping with your opposite gendered friends.”

“Hey, that was three times! And I was drunk for two.”

“Point is that ___ and I have been best friends for years . Neither of us did anything like that in the time being and never will.”

“Because you never made a move and acknowledged yo—”

“Jimin.” Namjoon interrupted sternly, wanting to end this conversation. Jimin never understood your friendship with him and constantly suspected that there was something more than what met the eyes. He could sense it, but Namjoon refused to listen.

“Fine, I’ll stop.” Jimin sighed. “At least acknowledge my words.”

Namjoon gulped his iced coffee and thinned his lips, “Maybe.”

He should have listened.

After dinner, he took you to the museum. Due to his respected status, he had the privilege of possessing the keys to artistic treasures. It was a way for him to move back and forth with any work beyond the public hours. And because you had the privilege of being his best friend, you could see the Love exhibition he finalized that morning and now waiting for the official opening in two weeks.

The stepping of your heels echoed within the empty museum. Your eyes scanned through the beautiful artwork before you, enchanted by the different styles and meanings, yet they all revolved around one concept: love.

You stole little glances of Namjoon, his attention invested in the paintings as he passed by you. You appreciated his passion for his job, bringing purpose to his life and those around him. He gave you comfort and solace in your chaotic life, and no amount of gratitude can equate to his actions and words.

However, you were nervous around him this time, playing out what to say and do. Sure, he never cared before, but you were a bit self-conscious with this one. You wanted to approach it right. After all, what he said and did matters to you. He was important.

Your eyes landed on a particular piece, never seeing anything like it. The painting contained four bodies. Two of which embraced one another on top of a hill as birds and flowers bloomed around them. Hues resembled joy and, of course, love. As you shifted down the mountain, the third subject laid down, surrounded by colors of gloom and sorrow. Wilting flora consumed the body. The complete opposite of the couple on top. However, the final form was rather strange because you barely saw it. You could see the background behind it, almost like a ghost.

“I see you found my favorite piece in the exhibit.” Your best friend announced with a grin. You were too into the painting to realize he stood by you. He carefully inspected the artwork, absorbing the emotions it gave and the purpose of the artist’s creation.

“Why is your favorite?” You wondered, your eyes still attentive to the piece.

“To be honest, I’ve met with the artist before during my work trip in Mexico. Great guy, his interpretations were so philosophical that it expanded my knowledge that it only left me wanting more from him.” Namjoon expressed. “This is my favorite piece because, for once, he had something that portrayed a specific visual he wanted to convey, and I’m also sure that many people can relate.”

“And that is?”

“It’s a story.” He began. “A depressing one. Once upon a time, a man and woman fell in love, and they lived happily ever.”

“That doesn’t sound too sad.” You chuckled.

“You didn’t let me finish.” He mentioned, making you shut your mouth. “As the couple danced to their love, they never realized that someone from afar also fell in love with her. That’s him.” He pointed to the covered body. “All the flowers he sent her returned to him, and he slowly died from it. The last body is him, but he’ll forever roam the world with this emptiness inside. But at the very least, he can stay afar, looking at her and seeing her happy.”

“Ouch, that fucking hurts.” You pouted at his description. No one should ever go through that.

“The painting is called Cien Años by Pepe Lafourcade.” He informed. “Pepe said if he lived 100 years, he’d think of her for 100 years.”

“Tragically captivating.” You nodded before shifting your eyes onto your best friend, who was already gazing at you.

Namjoon swore his world stopped by witnessing you and your very radiant form. You looked much healthier now, caring for yourself and enhancing your beauty more than yesterday but less than tomorrow. He observed a new necklace on you, perhaps a treat for your hard work, he assumed. You deserved it. You always did. He saw you like you were the only one in the world, his world.

And no one could compare to you.

He wished to be with you as long as he could.

His stare flustered you a bit; you’ve never seen anything like it. You thought you were seeing things and had some assumptions in your mind. But you merely pushed them because they weren’t necessary anymore.

You broke the eye contact as you focused on your feet. You had to speak to him. “Joon?”

“Yes, flower?” He crouched down, trying to find your eyes, laughing at how timid you were. It was peculiar to act like this with him. He didn’t want to say anything when you first met up. He wanted you to tell him naturally.

You gave up and finally faced him again. Your large doe eyes were his favorite; he never told you but enjoyed seeing them. “I have to tell you something. Something important.”

“Oh, how important?”

“Kinda big? Uh, serious, actually.”

“How so,” He was being playful, but that’s only because he was unaware of how much the words that came out of you will affect him in the long run.

“I’ve been dating this guy for the past six months…uhhh, Jungkook is his name, and I’m falling in love with him.”

Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook.

Namjoon’s attention focused on you as you reached the end of the aisle. Your father gave you a goodbye kiss before he lets go of you. You turned away from him and smiled gently, with giggles in between biting your lips. The unconditional true love flashed in your eyes.

But it wasn’t directed towards him.

Instead, it was for the man in front of him. The groom.

Jeon Jungkook.

The love of your life.

“I’m sorry, who?”

Namjoon was utterly stunned at what you just said. You were dating someone for a while, and you didn’t tell him? Your best friend? Now you’re in love with that guy?

“His name is Jungkook, and we—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He felt offended and angry by your decision. It wasn’t like you. You told him everything. You told him about Seokjin the second you talked to him. The name was vaguely familiar. He had heard it before. Wait—

“Isn’t he your boss?” Namjoon asked incredulously.

“Well, not anymore. I got promoted and transferred to another department, remember?” You tried your best to explain yourself. “I mean, he technically is. He runs part of the corporation.”

“W-why? H-how?”

“We had to keep it a secret. I couldn’t tell you….”

“Couldn’t tell me? Me, your best friend?” He forced a laugh, but there was nothing funny in his tone.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Flower, how could you be so fucking stupid like that? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Namjoon regretted those words the second they came out of his mouth. Your facial expression said it all, insulted and hurt by your best friend. Your face became sour with your lips trembling. God, you hated how sensitive you were being. But like you said, what he said or did mean so much to you.

So it hurt when he didn’t support you.

He took a step towards you, but you stepped back. “___, I—”

“I thought you’d understand.” Your eyes were glossy, blinking away to fight the hurt from being released. You shook your head, “Like how my best friend usually is. I thought you would be supportive.”

Silence drowned you two. Namjoon had no words, all he could think about was how much he disappointed you. You said nothing and couldn’t bother dealing with him. Like what he told you if you didn’t want to deal with the situation right now, just walk away.

So you did, leaving him alone in the museum as you called Jungkook to pick you up.

Namjoon couldn’t comprehend what he was feeling right now. His breath shivered at this indescribable tension in his stomach and chest. His fingers were finicky, needing to do something to keep the thoughts at bay. But all through his mind was you. He remained unfocused, especially since you didn’t reply to his texts or answer his calls. The unknown of what you were doing and how you felt bothered him, distracting his brain away from everything around him.

You were in love with your boss, and he had no idea. He couldn’t recollect any hints or say about you dating someone. Sure, you’ve gotten happier, but he thought it was because of him…that you were spending your time with him…

If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t mad that you didn’t tell him. It was probably the rational thing to do since Jungkook was well-known in the business—Namjoon had to search him up. It was most likely to keep word from spreading, and no one knew.

In fact, he was more uncomfortable than you were with someone. He has seen what happened to you in the past and didn’t want you to get hurt. He knew nothing about this Jungkook guy and feared the worst from him yet.

It was the night of the official opening of his exhibition, and you still weren’t talking. This was the longest you haven’t spoken to each other. It made Namjoon stay up at night running a busy mind. He started getting worried, thinking he fucked up your whole friendship and his shitty remarks. He was so upset with himself that he wasn’t feeling well.

Namjoon was weary for a couple of weeks, with a scratchy throat and a loss of appetite. It was probably stress from everything that was going on with planning and, of course, his dilemma with you. Hopefully, after tonight, he’ll be a little bit better. Though he begged to differ when he developed slight coughing in the morning.

The murmur of guests crowded the museum’s main lobby, some of the artists that he collected for the exhibit also attended. Unfortunately, Pepe wasn’t here due to conflicting schedules, but he gave his wishes to Namjoon.

People went up to him, admiring and congratulating him and his work. Namjoon could only smile politely and share his thanks. It was a big day for him, and if it was a success, it’d open him to a new world of the arts. Famous artists and museums would know him, and his approach to his work would get recognized by many.

Yet, his mood was down, hoping that a certain someone would see him on a day like this.

“Sup, bro!!” A few invitees glowered at the person for the loud disruption, but he did not care. “Calm down, don’t give me dirty eyes. I’m probably more educated than all of you combined.”

One of the security guards came toward his friend, “Excuse me, si—”

“It’s Dr. Park,” Jimin corrected before grabbing a flute of champagne from the waiter. The guard was about to protest, but Namjoon raised his hand, reassuring them that he was, unfortunately, an important guest. He winked cheekily at him through his slit-like eyes with his pride held high. Security glared at the doctor once more before leaving the premises.

“Jimin, don’t make a scene. It’s bad enough they see us together.” Namjoon exhaled, swirling his drink with a straw.

“How is it bad? We’re besties! I’m so proud of you.” Jimin shrugged but slowly changed his tone to a more serious one as he looked at his friend’s expression. “What’s wrong? You don’t look too good.”

“I’m fine, just been coughing since this morning.” Namjoon cleared his throat, but the shorter knew there was much more.

“Haven’t talked to her since?”

Namjoon sighed and nodded, “I’m worried I fucked our friendship.”

The doctor bit back his tongue. He needed to comfort his friend now, then tell him off later. “She’s upset, but it won’t be enough to stop your friendship. She’ll come around; she just needs time.”

“I know, but—” Namjoon swore he stopped breathing. From across the room, he spotted you. He didn’t think you’d come. His pupils dilated at your appearance. You were absolutely breathtaking like you were prized artwork in the museum, capturing the hearts of anyone who came by.

His heart weirdly skipped a beat.

Your eyes met his, then smiled at his success and waved. You headed in his direction. However, the closer you came, the more he realized you weren’t alone.

Hand in hand, a tall, strong-built man followed by you. His round eyes observed the area while his mouth was agape at the ambiance. His features were strong yet soft, and he looked approachable. He was around your age, reasonably young for someone running part of a whole corporation.

“Joon,” You greeted before letting go of the man to hug your best friend. You shocked him, his body stiffening up, then relaxing at your familiar warmth and comfort. He wrapped his arms around you, firming his grip. “Congratulations!”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes watered up, not realizing that he had held back tears since that night. You were finally here with him, and the emotions let loose.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.” You promised as you pulled away to look at his face. Some tears fell down to which you wiped them off with your gentle thumbs. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply; that was a bitch move.”

“No, you had every reason.” He begged to differ. “I didn’t even give you a chance to speak.”

“Next time, we’ll communicate better.” You proposed, and he nodded quickly, knowing that your friendship remained strong as ever.

“Yay, you made up. What about me?” Jimin pushed his way into you. You giggled and hugged him too.

“Hello, Dr. Park. Long time no see, looking dangerous as ever.” You said.

“Hello, ____. Long time no see, Looking ravishing as ever. And yes, always dangerous, but no one needs to know.” He smiled boldly, then shifted his attention to the man biting his lips, holding a bouquet. “Who might this be?”

All your attention goes towards the newcomer, bulging his eyes but letting out a bunny-like smile. Carrying some flowers with one hand, he used the other to wave and bow.

“This is Jungkook…my boyfriend.” You revealed to the two men.

Right on cue, Namjoon coughed harshly. He gulped some water and tried clearing his throat again. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he gave you an okay signal.

“Jungkook, this is Namjoon.”

Jungkook handed you the bouquet, then he went up to the taller man and shook his hand with both of his, “Hello, Namjoon. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard nothing but great things from this one.” He gestured to you. Namjoon accepted the greeting and nodded silently. He needed to be civil, at least for now.

“And this one is Dr. Park Jimin.” You presented. “Remember, he’s a doctor.”

“And don’t you forget about it,” Jimin added on. Jungkook shook his hand as well. “I heard of your corporation. I saw on the news that you opened two new shelters for mothers and children. You do great work.”

Jungkook blushed and smiled, “Oh, yes. Thank you. It was a hard process, but I hope to do more of them in the future.”

“Oh, these are for you.” You said, passing the bouquet to your best friend.

Namjoon inspected the flowers—daisies, his favorite flowers because they were your favorite.

“This is a celebratory gift for your first solo exhibit and an apology.” You continued gazing at your best friend, trying to communicate telepathically, which Namjoon was fully aware of.

Somehow that hinted Jungkook into saying, “Dr. Park, do you think you can accompany me to the hors d’oeuvres? Let’s leave these two to talk.”

Impressed at his request, Jimin nodded, enjoying the man so far. The shorter glanced at Namjoon to give him some good luck before joining Jungkook’s food adventure.

There, you both were alone but not really knowing how to start this. This was the longest you’ve been apart, let alone fight like that. In fact, you rarely fought. There was nothing that came in between you two until now.

“He seems nice,” Namjoon commented about your new…boyfriend. “His mannerisms are a bit mechanical, though.”

You let out a chuckle, “He’s nervous. He wants to impress you.”

“Big CEO wanting to impress a small-time art curator? That’s new.”

“Well, big CEO knows that the art curator means a lot to me.” You went along with his saying. “He wants you to like him.”

“Why would he care about what I think?” Namjoon muttered, feeling a bit jittery. He held the bouquet tightly to keep his movements in control.

“Because he knows that I care about what you think.” You replied. “He was sad when I told him how you reacted because he was afraid. He doesn’t want you to think badly of him.”

“Not wanting to compare, but it’s hard not to after how many before he treated you.” He frowned as he said his thought out loud. “I don’t want you to get hurt, flower.”

You smiled softly at his care towards you. That’s what you loved about him. “Joon, he’s not going to hurt me. I can tell you that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I made the first move.” You revealed. “And though he’s stern and serious about his work—bless his soul—he is so shy, Joon. He was a nervous wreck, confessing his crush on me. It felt like I was in high school.”

Namjoon couldn’t imagine it. At first, he didn’t think that shyness would be a characteristic of Jungkook. Then again, he doesn’t know anything about him. He didn’t accept him at all, probably not anytime soon for safety precautions.

“He’s the first man in a long time for me, and I’ve been careful. He’s been careful. I actually asked him to keep it between just us two because I didn’t want my coworkers knowing about our relationship.” You elaborated. “But he suggested to at least tell our loved ones if we wanted to be serious with each other.”

“You’re serious with him?” Namjoon spoke softly. A sharp, quick pain pushed through his stomach, leaving an unpleasant feeling. Yet he didn’t try showing it; he didn’t want you to worry about him.

You nodded at the thought of Jungkook being steady with you. “Yes, that’s why I was afraid of telling you about him. I wanted you to accept him too.”

He coughed again, shaking his head. “I’m accepting of him, yet if I’m being honest. But I’ll try to.”

“He knows about my past too, and he swore he’s not like that.” He coughed harshly this time. You handed him some water that he accepted. “Joon, are you okay?”

Namjoon chugged the cup down and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I think I have an upset stomach. I got a bad cough from this morning.”

“Make sure you take care of yourself, okay? I don’t wanna beat you up if you’re not being healthy.” You scolded, and it only made him laugh.

“I’ll be fine, flower. It’s just been stressful, from the event and our time apart.”

Your mood died a little, being guilty about what you did. “I’m sorry again. I promise to never do that again.” You grabbed his hand to squeeze some comfort in him.

His body got hit with another blow, but he bit his lips to dull the pain. “You worry too much, flower. It wasn’t your fault. You were also worried about me, too, no?”

You nodded, “I was. I care for you too much not to.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He reassured. “Then we should just enjoy the night and days to come.”

You couldn’t help but hug him. You missed him so much, crying to Jungkook about him. He knew you cared for your best friend and hoped that you two would reconcile.

“I love you, Joon.”

“I love you too, flower.”

Again, a standard practice, but Namjoon didn’t realize his love changed from yours.

Namjoon couldn’t hate Jungkook.

The more he was around the guy, the more he realized how chaotically sweet Jungkook was. He was just like you, an odd presence but very lovable. The only thing he hated about him was that he kept winning at everything, yet he was still humble about it.

Jungkook made initiatives to hang out with you and your friends from time to time just so he could understand your life and engage with those you loved. He hung out with him and Jimin, too, without you, and it was a fun guy’s night. He put so much effort into what he wanted, and he did it with ease. It was easier to like him.

Your relationship was growing healthy, and Namjoon was happy for you. You needed something like this, and he could only hope that Jungkook would continue that with you.

On the other hand, Namjoon has been on a stump. First of all, his event was a huge success. His networking multiplied, getting busy with upcoming projects. He’s been traveling internationally, attending conferences and parties, meeting other curators like him, and even making new friends like Jung Hoseok, who was overseas as a curator in Madrid.

So what was his stump?

Well, for a few months now, Namjoon has had this stomach flu. He’s been getting random fevers, uncontrollable shaking, sharp pains in his chest or abdomen, and not eating regularly.

The worst part of it all was his cough. It didn’t improve since that night, it seemed to have gotten worse. He felt the need to scratch his throat, even having the urge put his fingers down his mouth and take care of the itch himself.

He went to the doctors, and they assumed the same. They provided him more potent medication every visit, but it didn’t feel like it was working. Was it because he was growing older? Did he need to start working out and caring for his body like that? It was bothering him, distracting him from his work, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

If only he knew, his condition worsened with time.

“And now for the bride and groom to say their vows.” The ordained minister proceeded.

Before you proclaimed your love, you held your hands with Jungkook’s, focusing on him. You took deep breaths, collecting your memorized speech that you suddenly forgot. Your eyes told that you were stuck, but Jungkook helped you.

“Anything you say, I will love for. Hell, you can call me irritating and I’d say thank you.” Little giggles responded to the groom’s joke. You rolled your eyes, then remembered why you loved him in the first place.

“When I first met you, I was afraid of loving again. I was hurt and disappointed so many times. I don’t even know how many tears I shed throughout that journey. I felt like giving up and never loving again.” You started your vows. “But then you changed that for me. Though I was scared, you helped me back up and had so much patience with me. I don’t know how you do it. Jimin even questioned it.”

Namjoon looked back and saw his shorter friend nod to your speech before putting his eyes back on you.

“You brought nothing but joy in my life. Yes, we went through difficult times, but we made it out, and I know we’ll do that again in our marriage. You’ve accepted not only me into your life but also my family and friends you’ve grown to love.” You sniffled, not wanting to cry, but you just had to. “Thank you for loving me at my best and even my worst. Thank you for not giving up on us. You are the love of my life, and you make me happier than I could ever imagine and more loved than I ever thought was possible.”

Namjoon heard sniffing from Jungkook, who let out tears faster than you. Upholding the role as best man, he kept tissues in his back pocket just in case. He pulled them out and tapped on Jungkook’s shoulder. The groom accepted the gesture and handed one to you and then to him.

“I vow to honor you, listen, laugh with you, and cry with you. I just hope you do the same back. You make me so proud, proud to be called your wife. I love you, Jeon Jungkook. I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”

Namjoon didn’t know when it started in terms of the other symptoms, but he remembered the first time he specifically saw it.

Jimin threw a Christmas party at his house and invited people you didn’t really know besides him, Jungkook, and Namjoon. Everyone else was people from the hospital he trained at, his party friends, the list went on. Nevertheless, it was a casual party with cute little games he had prepared.

You, Jungkook, and Namjoon talked amongst yourself in the corner. You and Jungkook had matching grinch Christmas sweaters. After a year of being together, you and Jungkook were more comfortable in front of people with your relationship. A few kisses and hugs here and there, but you liked to keep your relationship with him private.

Still, the public display of affection was prominent, and it disgusted Namjoon. It may seem like a joke to others, but it really did gross him out. Whenever you cuddled up onto one another or just plain out kissed, Namjoon’s upset stomach or chest murmurs intensified.

Like now, he kissed your cheek, and Namjoon felt a dig in his torso. His face turned sour, exhaled slowly as he palmed the ache.

“Namjoon, are you okay?” Jungkook looked at him with concern. “Are you having chest pains again?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna go away again.” Namjoon brushed it off. “It comes and goes from time to time.”

“Did you go to the doctor again?” You asked.

“Yes, flower. I went the other day. Since I told him about my chest, they had me do an x-ray. They said they’ll call me, but I don’t think it’ll be any time soon ‘cause of the holidays.”

“The holidays shouldn’t be an excuse to keep my best friend from being healthy.” You pouted, earning laughs from your boyfriend and best friend.

“Honey, don’t worry too much.” Jungkook patted your head. “Namjoon is grown to make his own decisions and choose what to worry about.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with, JK, flower.” Namjoon agreed. “Plus, we’re still young. I’m sure whatever they find, it’ll be easy to fix. There are also not many health issues on both sides of my family, so I’m chilling.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Your ease is so annoying sometimes.”

After that conversation, Jimin chimed in and pulled all three of you to a game of “Nogpong.” The four were split into pairs: You and Namjoon and Jimin and Jungkook. Losers had to do what the winners said.

Jungkook and Jimin had experience playing these games, but you and Namjoon’s teamwork was unmatched. The teams went back and forth, missing cups, shooting them while making the opposing chug the eggnog down.

Your team had two cups left while they had five. It was your turn to throw a ball. Jimin threw insults at you to distract your concentration, but you tried to ignore that little man. You threw the ball, earning another point.

“You suck.” Jimin spat back before downing the drink.

It was now Namjoon’s turn. He focused on the final cup, being so close to winning. But his coughing grew harshly at that moment, sounding like it hurt. There was so much phlegm that he grabbed a napkin from a tissue box to cough up. He expectorated all he could into the tissue, ultimately feeling better. But when he saw the content in the cloth, his pupils dilated in shock.

What he thought was mucus was actually blood. He noticed that he could taste the unpleasant taste of iron in his mouth. He gulped down the remnants and stuffed the trash in his pocket without thinking.

“Some cough, Joon. Are you sure you’re okay?” You furrowed your brows at him.

“Flower, I’m okay.” He said again. “Let’s just finish the game.”

You weren’t as convinced, but you had to let it slide for his sake.

Namjoon nodded towards the guys about how he felt before going back to the game. He shot it into the cup with ease, cheering at the close win. All you had to do was score in the same cup.

It was all on you now. If you make this, victory was yours and Namjoon's. Sure, there was nothing to lose, but bragging rights were substantial to you. You held your breath and threw the ball.

You won!

You and Namjoon yelled like deranged individuals, celebrating your alcoholic game victory. Jungkook and Jimin took their loss like champs as they shook hands.

Namjoon held you by the waist and jumped in joy as you threw meaningless insults at your boyfriend and friend. In this position, something in Namjoon sparked. He watched you bad-mouthed them, but you looked so elegant, so beautiful doing it. He saw the fluttering of your lashes, the curve of your nose, and the soft plush that was your lips.

You being in his arms was so soothing. The warmth you produced heated his larger frame. It felt so right. He wished to stay like this forever with you.

But those thoughts caused a downward spiral in his stomach. His head was light. He immediately turned green, his chest feeling like it had been shot multiple times. His throat was open as everything he consumed started moving up. He pushed away aggressively as he covered his mouth, running to the nearest bathroom.

He disregarded the calls at him as he slammed the door open. He rushed to the toilet and pulled up the lid before vomiting everything in him. He purged so explosively that he thought his eyeballs would pop out of his head, and snot ran down from his nose and onto the top of his lip. He felt the sweat dripping down his face. Damn, this was the worst complication yet.

The three of you followed behind him while you took the lead. You bent towards your friend and rubbed his back as he threw up. You both stayed like that for a few minutes. Jimin had to go back to calm his guests down while Jungkook went to get water for Namjoon.

“Namjoon, do you want us to take you home?” Jungkook asked. “We can bring your car back too?”

Namjoon couldn’t say no. He knew he didn’t feel good, so he nodded.

“Let me grab your things, Joon.” You stood up and lightly patted his back. “I’ll come back quick.” You said before leaving with Jungkook.

He retched up once more, releasing all he had left closed eyes. When he opened the inside, his heart dropped. He thought his vision deceived him. No way could this happen. It was impossible. There was no reason to have it.

What he assumed he puked was the pasta and wine from the party was actually more blood. But that wasn’t the most alarming.

He always thought of them as simple and beautiful to look at, appealing to the eye, but it was hard to think of daisies in that way when his blood coated the fresh petals, and they came out of his body.

Namjoon was now lying in bed, wide awake and petrified. He was dubious, couldn’t find common ground in what he experienced. Maybe he was hallucinating; the very reason was that he wasn’t feeling so well. Maybe the blood-covered daisies were seen to cover up the horrible sight of regurgitated Alfredo pasta. But the sickly fragrant scent of the flowers begged to differ.

Okay, if he were to have it, how did he get it? He needed answers. He wasn’t in love with anyone, right? He never loved anyone like that. The only people he loved were his family. Sure, Jimin was fucking annoying, and he loved the dude, but he was in love with him.

The only person left was you and…no. He didn’t, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. He can’t . There was no damn way.

He refused to believe.

Yet Namjoon remembered it clear as day.

An urgent early call from his doctor’s office sent him waiting in the examination room. He was restless, with dark bags under his worn-out eyes. He didn’t even bother to change. He was in his Ryan bear pajamas.

He scrolled through his phone, seeing the multiple texts from you and Jimin. You both were worried and wished him to get better while greeting him a wonderful Christmas. You sent a bomb of pictures of you and Jungkook with hearts to cheer him on, and it was enough for his heart to throb. He locked his phone and threw it in his pajama pocket.

His doctor, Dr. Min, came back into the room with a stoic expression as he read Namjoon’s file. “Good morning, Mr. Kim. I apologize for the short notice, especially on Christmas. But I just had to meet with you.”

“No need to apologize, Dr. Min.” The man said. “I was kinda glad you called. I—” He paused, trying to regulate his breathing. “I wanted to confirm.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, “Did something happen recently?”

Namjoon bit his lips and nodded, getting antsy at the anticipation he caused. “I vomited, and I-I saw…blood and…,” He couldn’t say it. If he said it, he feared that it would come true.

Dr. Min didn’t let him finish his sentence as he nodded. Pulled out of his file was his recent x-ray. He brought it to the mounted screen and turned the lights on, displaying the condition of Namjoon’s body.

Roots grew through his lungs and around his heart. The silhouette of stems flourished all over his respiratory while the flowers weren’t as developed but expected to bloom soon. Bits of petals scattered around rested on his sternum with the most on his heart.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. You’ve been diagnosed with stage three of Hanahaki Disease.” Dr. Min declared. “I know this is hard for you to take in, but I would like to tell you that my staff and I will do our best to help you in your next steps. But first, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright with you?”

Namjoon stayed silent, viewing his x-ray. He could only nod as the pain consumed his form. This was the truth, the reality he was living in.

“Do you know how long you’ve experienced symptoms?”

He shook his head.

“You did say you’ve been coughing for a while. Is that still happening?”

He nodded.

“When you coughed, was there blood?”

He nodded.

“Did you find petals?”

He shook his head.

“But when you threw up, there were petals?”

He nodded.

“When you vomited, was that the first time?”

He nodded.

“Do you love them?”

That very question snapped him out of his trance. He scowled at his doctor, wondering why he asked a personal question.

“Excuse me, Dr. Min. But isn’t that personal?” Namjoon couldn’t help but spit venom. He just found out he has a severe illness, and now his doctor wanted to know about his love life?

“It may seem personal, but this disease connects to love.” Dr. Min explained. “Namjoon, it’ll only worsen if you don’t admit it. That’s why the flowers are developing rapidly.”

He looked at his doctor, holding his stare. His eyebrows scrunched on his forehead with a large frown upon his mouth. Dr. Min waited patiently for his response, knowing what was gradually happening to him.

Thinking deeply about the question, his consciousness popped with a vague image. The picture subtly grew vivid at each second. Colors were lively, edges were pronounced, and the shapes were visible. By the time it was clear and detailed, a memory flashed in his very mind.

He stood on top of a roof. Inspecting around him, he realized it was his old apartment building years back. He saw the crowded shining city spanning across his vision. Buildings stood high and lit, groups of people walking down the streets, but still, he could only hear the soft white noise of the night. Light instrumental music resonated through the rooftop. It was all nostalgic. He missed the view, but more importantly, he missed the memories made here.

“Joon, dance with me,” A gentle voice begged as a small hand tugged his relatively larger one.

His head turned, presenting him with the prettiest, perfect sight. The glow in your skin shined brighter than the moon and sun combined. Your large glittering irises electrified his entire being. Your laugh rippled goosebumps on him, filling his body with sensation. Your smile captivated his very mind and soul. You intertwined his fingers with yours, your warmth coursing through his veins.

Everything about this was perfect. He never wanted to leave. He wished to stay like this forever. He loved every feeling. He loved every minute. He loved the memory. He loved the vision. But essentially—

He loved you.

Namjoon was in love with you, has been this entire time.

But you didn’t love him back.

You were in love with someone else.

The confession only brought painful tears to him as he let his emotions run loose. He scrunched his nose, sniffing uncontrollably. His mouth quivered hopelessly as little whimpers escaped. His gaze went down to his lap, noticing his trembling hands.

He never thought of the day he finally understood what love was. He was too analytical with his beliefs in the past. But he also gave himself some credit. Love was still an essence that powered emotions. All these interpretations and meanings were interconnected. You couldn’t have this without the other. It was more than a concept, more than a feeling.

Love was larger than life itself. Love was greater than anything in the whole universe. It was impossible to put a limit to love.

Perhaps, Jimin was right.

Love can do a lot for someone.

Namjoon refused to tell anyone about his condition. Not only did he have to say to them that he was slowly dying from unrequited love, but he would have to reveal his true feelings for you.

He couldn’t deny them any longer, he loved you with all his heart, and it was killing him. But if it had to be anyone to do it, it had to be you.

He knew he couldn’t tell you. You would blame yourself, crying to him that you wished you would have loved him back. But you did love him.

Just not in the way he loved you. It wasn’t your fault at all. You were the type to make anyone fall in love with you. Namjoon had to just be part of that statistic.

He knew he couldn’t have you, you were with Jungkook, and you loved that man dearly. He was good to you, the best even, probably more than Namjoon would have done.

For the following months, he continued occupying his life with work. He had to focus on things other than you since you were on his mind every waking moment. He thought it was best to keep his distance. Maybe the flowers inside him wouldn’t flourish rapidly.

But you were adamant in keeping him close. You confronted him, going to his work. Your irritation dissolved once you saw his sunken face and the dark in his eyes. He convinced you that he wasn’t eating adequately since he was constantly working. Then you begged him to have lunch with you, and he couldn’t say no to you. He was too weak.

Too weak for you.

He gave in and, at the very least, texted and called you, but less than before. Sure, he hung out with you and Jungkook but was less engaged. Lately, when you asked to hang out, he told you he was busy or needed to fly out last minute.

When in reality, he went to the hospital for his condition.

“You’ve been taking the prescription, correct? Three times daily?” Dr. Min inquired. And Namjoon nodded. The doctor examined the man, he looked weaker, but somehow his body was stronger in motor and movement than the regular people who had this illness.

Hanahaki Disease cases were rare and the first for Dr. Min’s long-time patient to be diagnosed. It wasn’t as successful, but when it did, there were still some downfalls, but the individual would be okay in the end. The doctor felt the need to provide the best for him, not fathoming what he was going through.

“Good, it helps the flower wilt. It doesn’t stop the process completely, but it gives more time.” Dr. Min clarified. “Your bodily functions are still running normally, so that’s good. But I can’t say you’re getting any better….”

His health was deteriorating, the symptoms increased, and not a day went by without him coughing or throwing up petals.

“I know, doc.” Namjoon sighed. A nurse came in to check his blood pressure.

“Since you’re at a high stage in this, it’s hard for a cure unless….”

“No.” The man interrupted, knowing what he was going to say. “She’s been dating a friend for a while now. Great guy and loves her dearly..”

Dr. Min noted and nodded carefully at his response. “There’s also surgery. Many people who were diagnosed refuse to take it; that’s also why the fatality of Hanahaki is high. However, a small percentage who do, don’t feel love for the other person. But there are consequences.”

“Like what?”

“It is likely you will never feel love again. The memories of your love for that person won’t exist anymore.”

“Isn’t that worse?” Namjoon knitted his brows. He feared a life without loving, without loving you. He’d probably feel empty inside, lingering around like a ghost. “How can someone live on without love?”

“I…I don’t know.” And for once, Dr. Min didn’t have the right answer. Namjoon accepted what he said; it wasn’t his doctor’s fault. He was only suggesting possibilities. “It’s just another option because, at this rate, the illness is going into the four-stage.”

“And what happens at that stage?”

“If something were to happen that speeds it up, the flowers would bloom all over your lungs, and you will die before the end of the year.”

To live without love or to die with love.

A question that has been running through the mind of Kim Namjoon. He didn’t have much time left, but he couldn’t get himself to make a decision.

Obviously, he didn’t want to die. There was still much more for him to do. He wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted. But…a life without love? How would that be plausible? No human would walk on Earth with no love in their body because everyone has to love something or someone deep down.

But the thing that heated his mind was never loving you. He has fallen in love with you since you both were 11. Every drop of love in his body was for you. You were the one who would give meaning to his memories. How would he survive moving on after you?

Namjoon was deep in thought when fingers snapped in front of his face. He blinked back into his surroundings. He was in his office, trying to email Hoseok about some future collaborations.

The culprit, Jimin, rested on one side of his body with his hands on his hips. He had a concerned yet annoyed face on him as he inspected Namjoon. “You’re wasting our precious lunchtime together zoning out.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, quickly finishing up the email and sending it to his fellow art curator. As they walked up the street to the cafe, Jimin couldn’t help but take multiple takes at his friend.

“Stop staring. I’m not a fucking picture.” Namjoon caught his friend’s gaze.

“Dude, you don’t look so good.”

“Wow, thanks. That definitely helps with my self-esteem.”

“Stop joking. I’m serious.” Jimin refuted. “You look sicker. You barely eat, and you keep having colds.”

“I told you, Jimin. I’ve been going to the doctor, and it’s just stress—”

“ I’m literally a doctor. I can tell that this is more than stress. If you have something and you’re not tell—” An incoming call from Namjoon stopped Jimin’s rant. The shorter’s mouth thinned as he faced forward, waiting for the crosswalk to turn green.

Namjoon pulled his phone out, assuming it was Hoseok. But it was actually Jungkook. He rarely called and usually preferred texting to his introverted self. Nevertheless, he answered and greeted the man.

“Hey, thanks for answering. I really needed your opinion or like help with something.” Jungkook spoke out.

“No problem, man.” Namjoon grinned. “You know I’m always here to help. What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to say this….”

“You literally sound like ___ right now. It’s baffling.”

“Ugh, I—okay, fine. Obviously, you know ___ and I are together and in love, right?” A pain in his chest hit hard as Namjoon cleared his itchy throat. The crosswalk turned green, and the two began walking across. He hummed in response for Jungkook to continue. “Well, I’m gonna propose to her, and I want you to help me with her ring. You know her taste better than I do and—”

Namjoon stopped. He couldn’t hear anything after that. Jungkook started to sound like the adults from the Peanuts series. The words “I’m going to propose to her” echoed in his brain, repeated like a broken record. Was he hearing it correctly?

“I’m sorry, what? You’re what?” Namjoon forced himself to ask, praying that what he said wasn’t true.

“I’m proposing to ____? I want you to help me with t—”

His vision went fuzzy, his head feeling heavier than normal. His mouth became dehydrated while breathing went rapid. Namjoon couldn’t control his body shaking; everything went numb. His eardrums inflated, unable to hear the horns honking but only a long ringing sound amplified within seconds.

Jimin reached the end of the crosswalk but looked back to see why wasn’t his large friend was by his side. Jimin let out a sob. He saw his friend fall forward, dropping his phone. He ran up as he watched Namjoon vomit blood in the middle of the street.

He got down on his knees in distress, rubbing his friend’s back as he pulled out his phone to call an ambulance. Some people crowded the scene, even going as far as getting out of their cars to help them.

While Jimin instructed the hospital on their location, Namjoon gagged harshly, feeling stuck with something burning through his throat, almost like it was too large to even consume, let alone retched up.

“Yes, please. We’re here at W 6th and Namu Avenue.” Namjoon pushed as hard as possible, and the content finally came out. “Perfect, thank you,” Jimin said before ending the call. “They’ll come in five mi—Joon.…”

With barely enough strength, Namjoon open eyes and turned to see his friend’s aghast expression. Jimin felt himself grieving over him, the tears burst out of control and ran down his reddened cheeks. So Namjoon looked away, unable to see his friend’s crying. Then he suddenly realized why—

There lay blood-stained daisies in the pool of crimson, enough to make a bouquet. Loose petals plastered around, mocking creating a large heart surrounding the arrangement.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin whimpered, resting his forehead on the taller’s back. He felt the tears staining his shirt, but that was the least of his problems.

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Dr. Min told them. He looked at his sickly patient, then towards Jimin. “Maybe talk him into it.”

“Thanks, Hyung.” Jimin nodded. Dr. Min excused himself and closed the door while Jimin kept his eyes on his friend.

After the incident, Namjoon lost consciousness. Jimin was there every step of the way and almost recklessly used his authority to get his friend help. Fortunately, Dr. Min was his supervisor and a good friend that came quickly when he found out what happened to his patient.

Namjoon woke up to them discussing his choices regarding this illness, but he stayed quiet and drank water. He knew Jimin was upset at him for not telling about his condition but was more afraid of him telling you , someone innocent in all of this.

“I know you’re still not feeling well, but I need to know, as your colleague, your friend, your brother, fuck as me! Someone who cares so much about you!” Jimin huffed, feeling frustrated at the situation. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Namjoon chuckled, but nothing was light about it. “You really think I’d tell her? She’d blame herself, and it’s not her fault.”

“At least, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sure you’d say the same thing as Dr. Min….” Namjoon glowered, inspecting the needles and tubes attached to his wrist. “This is something that’s my problem. Because in all honesty, Jimin, what would you have done? You can’t tell me I shouldn’t love her. You can’t tell her to love me. There really wasn’t anything you could do.”

“But…but…I would have been there for you.” Jimin sniffed, his eyes glistening at the sight of his friend. “I would stay by your side even if you were getting worse. No one should go through this alone.” He walked up and gently clasped his hand, noticing how weak he’s gotten.

“How long since you’ve known?” Jimin licked his lips, trying to see any more pain in him.

“I don’t know, but the first time I saw flowers was during your Christmas party.”

“So you’ve been keeping this a secret for almost a whole year?” The shorter released his hold to pace around the room, having many emotions riling his body. “Joon, you’re dying, you know that? There’s no cure unless you do the surgery? Why haven’t you said yes?”

“Because there are consequences to it that I don’t know if I’d accept.” Namjoon had to stay calm. It was better this way, thinking it’d make his friends hurt a little less. “Why live a life without love?” Jimin kept silent, gathering his reasons for the hypothetical question. “The doctor said if I do the surgery, I can’t love again. Go on my life not loving? I’d live an empty life. I wouldn’t get married, have children, see them grow….”

“Technically, you still can.”

“Jimin, life would still be empty, and it would hurt everyone around me, including my parents, you, Jungkook, ___.” He cried at your name. “I can’t live without loving her. It’s hard. I loved her since I was 11, Jimin, and as it pains me to see her with someone else, I have to let her go.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re dying!”

“And if I don’t love, I would be dead inside.” Namjoon smiled bitterly. “I lose either way.”

Jimin sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to talk to him. “While you were unconscious, I talked with Dr. Min. He explained to me how there was a recent study on post-surgery for Hanahaki. There were about ten subjects. The researcher found that despite the common knowledge of not loving, there’s a 50% chance that you may feel it again.”

Namjoon’s eyes glimmered towards his friend, “What? How’d you get this?”

“Yoongi Hyung didn’t know much about the illness, so he had to go through studies and experiments to learn more about it. He stumbled upon this one issued almost two years ago by one of the nation’s prestigious schools.” Jimin articulated what he absorbed from his superior. “There’s still hope for you.”

“Jimin, I don’t know…I don’t feel like gambling my life like that.” Namjoon was uncertain. He was stuck in the middle because either he loved again or didn’t. With the adversity he has been under, the universe wasn’t on his side on this.

“You’re not gambling your life; you’re finding reasons to live, to love.” Jimin reasoned. “You can do all the things you wish to do. You shouldn’t give up, Joon.”

“I-I need time to think this through….” He concluded. There was the temptation to all of it, but he needed to think carefully about his decision. Right now, he’s emotional, Jimin’s emotional; this whole thing is an emotional mess.

“Though Dr. Min can’t say this, I can. You don’t have much time left. That scene triggered you going into the final stage. I don’t want you to die.” Jimin spoke his thoughts. “But whatever decision you make, I’ll be right by your side.”

“Thank you, Chim.” Namjoon nodded. “D-did you tell her? About my condition?”

The shorter breathed out before shaking his head, “No, I thought you would be the one to tell her. But she does know you’re in the hospital. She and Jungkook are in the waiting room. I said you fainted and threw up on the street.”

“You can’t tell her about it, please.” Namjoon pleaded. “I don’t want her to take the blame. None of this is her fault.”

Not arguing with him, Jimin questioned, “So what do we say? You’re dying, and you can’t say you have a fever.”

“Just say I have a tumor.”

“I don’t know if that’s worse or not….”

“I technically do, except instead of a tumor, it’s fucking daisies growing in my lungs!” Namjoon retorted. “Look, whatever it is, she can’t know that I have Hanahaki because she’ll find out I’m in love. She can’t know this, please.”

Jimin bit inside his mouth, “Fine, I won’t tell her, but make your decisions on the surgery soon.”

“Oh, Joon!” You cried, rushing towards him. You threw your hands over his body and sobbed. Jungkook trailed behind with a stuffed koala with a ‘Get Well’ balloon, then Jimin was the last to come back in before closing the door.

Namjoon didn’t like how sad you looked as he hugged you back. He caressed your hair before parting away to get a glimpse of you. You were whimpering, snot running down your nose, crocodile tears shedding, and the spark of pain yet relief in your eyes.

“Jimin told us what happened. We left work and sped here, we waited for hours, and… why didn’t you tell me you had a tumor?” You had so many questions, but this was taking priority.

Namjoon glanced at Jimin, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded slightly, keeping the promise.

“Uhh, I didn’t want you to worry.” He answered softly.

“Now you’re in the hospital, on the brink of death!” You were hurt; he kept it from you, but more so, scared for his life. You didn’t want to lose your best friend.

“I’m sorry, it’s complicated…Doctor said I could go through surgery, but….”

“But? But what? Why don’t you?” You reached for his hands. It was a thing you used to do as children, and you did find a way to comfort each other.

But though it was comforting, it was also intensely painful for Namjoon.

His heart throbbed, but he contained the ache. He pushed your hands off of him and rested them on his lap.

“It’s just…it’s complicated.” He responded the best that he could without lying. He’s already lying so much more than he did in your entire friendship.

You stared at him, trying to comprehend what he said. You needed to understand, and you had a hunch that he wasn’t adequately telling you.

“Do you think you two can leave, so we can talk privately?” You rotated back at Jimin and Jungkook. The sense of desperation was oozing through your contact.

Jungkook nodded without missing a beat, understanding the privacy needed. He placed the koala on the table and mumbled reassurances to the taller. Jimin said nothing but followed your boyfriend out and closed the door behind him.

Now you two were alone.

It’s been a while since it was just you and him. You missed it. Though you tried your best, your days grew hectic, and schedules were tight, being unable to hang out with your best friend.

You observed his state, he lost the honey color in his skin, and the darkened puffs around his eyes were accentuated by his bloodshot eyes. His hair was matted and greased, not having its usual volume. His body looked thinner, seeing his bones popping out every now and then.

“I never would have thought you’d end up like this.” You spoke truthfully. “It pains me to see you like this, Joon.”

“I know, flower.” He agreed, not wanting to look you in the eye. It really could be damaging to him.

“Are you doubting the surgery? Is it the cost? The quality, because I can help you—”

“No, it’s not like that, flower. I promise.” Even at his weakest point, he strived to make you not worried for him. “It’s…there are consequences to the surgery that I don’t know if I could live with.”

“What do you mean?”

He tried getting himself together to come up with a reasonable explanation without saying too much, “The doctor said I’d lose feeling to some parts of my body.”

“And so…”

“So, I wouldn’t live my life the way I want to.” He sighed, thinking about his tender memories with you. His eyes started to swell at the possibility of it disappearing. “I would feel dead inside. I don’t know if I can survive like that.”

“Did he say anything else? Is there something that can counter that? I—was this only option?”

“He talked about some study on it and said there’s a 50% chance I could feel again. It’s just risky, you know? I’m shooting through hoops for it, and I’m….” His voice trembled in tone. “I’m tired. I’m tired of all of it. I wanna give up.”

“No, I refuse for you to give up.” You disapproved.

“No, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay, Namjoon.” You seethed with rage, standing up from the bed.

“Look, flow—”

“No, I won’t let you. You used to tell me to never give up, stay hopeful, and that I’ll get better with time.” Your eyes welled with tears at the very thought of Namjoon giving up on himself. “Now that you’re giving up, you’re telling me to be okay with that?”

“Why not?” He bawled back.

There it was, what he’s been hiding from you—the loose, broken pieces shattered instead of being taped together like everything was fine.

When he first found out, he lost all hope in what he had to offer the world. He didn’t want to act upon being a human and grieve on his experience. It wasn’t like him. He wanted you to see him be okay and happy and work his way through life and obstacles with ease like he always wanted for you.

This was the first time you saw lost.

“I’m already dying. What’s the point, ___?” He broke down. “I can’t be strong anymore. It made matters worse. Look, I failed myself. I failed you as your best friend. I’m really a failure. I’ve been blinded by hope and being content, not noticing that I’m getting worse.”

You took in his words, trying to understand him. You saw him fall into a pit of insecurity and despair. It was scary for you, this being one of the few times you saw him like this. It was usually the other way around, and for that, you needed to be there for him. Comfort him like he did with you, care for him like he did with you, continuing on his side with love and support.

“Remember when Seokjin cheated on me, I asked you why things like that happened?” You pointed out, taking a step to sit back down.

“Yeah, you were a mess. You couldn’t stop crying.”

“Yeah, but I slept good that night.” You chuckled, earning a slight smile from him. “You said hurt is temporary, and you’ll heal from it.”

“Wow, I said that. I must have been a liar.” He joked, causing you to snort at his self-deprecation. He shifted his head out to the window, the sun setting for the day, bringing a soft, warm hue into his bleak room.

“No, you were telling the truth, and things got better.” You said. “But then I asked you if something was wrong with me because bad things kept happening.”

“What about it? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You called me one of the most special people out there.” You grinned, reaching over to his hands and intertwining them into yours. “If I’m one of the most special, Namjoon, you’re irreplaceable.”

He finally faced you. Your face was touched by the golden hour, the dried tears reflected. All the hope he once had was migrated onto you. The building of hope he helped you through the years was finally reflected. It was your turn to give back.

You sniff-kissed his palms, and it didn’t hurt him for once. It melted his troubles away for a split second and made his heart skip a beat in the way it was supposed to be.

“No one in this world can match you. You are like no other. You brought better days than I could never imagine, always thinking of others before yourself.” Your promising irises said it all, the truth of himself within. “The universe gives the hardest challenges to the most powerful, resilient ones because it knows how much you can endure. It’s testing you.”

Your grip was firm, more robust than his, as he applied pressure to your hands. “Once it’s over, you will be rewarded vastly. It’ll give you the best things, you name it. You won’t regret anything your heart faces and desires. Good will happen to someone like you. Please don’t give up.” You wheezed out, sobbing into your linked hands. “You’ll be alright, I promise. We’ll be here for you. I’ll be here for you.”

Namjoon joined closer to you, his forehead resting on the top of your head. You felt his tears dripping on your scalp, but that didn’t matter. You then embraced one another, refusing to let go. The dimming sun cascaded your shadows onto the white walls of the hospital room.

Serene was anything but you two. Instead, a fire ignited within, blazing a rush, lighting up the untapped potential inside both of you. The flames grew when together, too powerful for the world to see. So it was decided they had to stay apart, as they’re not always meant to last. Still, without their mirrored flame, if one died, so did the other.

Separation should never be permanent with you and Namjoon.

The day was young. The window was opened to lure fresh wind into his nostrils. He’s been in this room for days, but he won’t be in here any longer. He eyed the skinny cylindrical vase, and a single daisy emerged into the half-filled water. The decor was a small gesture from Jungkook, who got the idea from Jimin.

Though alone, that one daisy carried purpose to its life, creating beauty and awing anyone that surrounded it. It was the last one he probably would see for a while.

A knock interrupted his gaze from the vase. Following the sound, he found his doctor in the doorway with a bright smile.

“Ready?” Dr. Min asked.

Namjoon closed his eyes and breathed a final deep, flower-filled breath.

“Ready.”

The ceremony was absolutely breathtaking, with nothing but large smiles on everyone. Laughter filled the air, food filled their stomachs, and you and Jungkook’s love filled the entire reception. Everyone felt your eternal love, resonating with that very feeling in their own lives.

All but Namjoon.

After the successful surgery, he recovered quickly, bringing joy to your lives. But he lost his loving memories with you. He still remembered who you were, how you grew up, and the memories you made with him. He even knew why he had the surgery in the first place. But he doesn’t remember or feel ever being in love with you.

He was your best friend who you platonically loved.

Namjoon didn’t know what love was all together. It was something he couldn’t fully grasp. If someone were to ask, he gave an indefinite answer or a simple ‘I don’t know.’

He did feel like a big hole was in his chest, finding it difficult to get anything to fill it up. Days were long and tiresome. Things happen, things don’t. It was all mundane for him. He felt numb to the world at times. He doesn’t know if he regretted his decision.

But if there’s one thing he knew was that he cared. He cared a lot about his friends, work, and family, never wanting them to feel down or hurt. If they needed him, he’ll come in faster than you could say his name. He enjoyed being there for them. It made him happy.

But not enough to love, whatever that was.

You were his best friend he cared for.

He cared so much that he helped Jungkook plan his proposal with you and the wedding. Jungkook even begged him to be his best man, to which the taller agreed with flying colors.

In your opinion, the ask to be his best man was unexpectedly more notable than your own proposal.

Namjoon watched you and Jungkook dancing on the floor, nothing but smiles and stolen touches between the two. Even when crying, you were still happy with your husband. He was glad you finally found someone worthy enough for you, also glad you weren’t wasting your time with stupid boys who only cared about their dicks in something.

He wondered what it was having that, but he felt nothing. The crater in him only expanded. Was it even possible for him? It didn’t seem as interesting, so he pushed it aside.

“Hey, you okay?”

His head turned to see Jimin sitting beside him at their designated table. The doctor offered him a glass of wine, which he gladly accepted.

“Yeah, just watching.” He shrugged.

“You holding up alright?”

Namjoon’s lips twitched in dissatisfaction, “I think I’ve been before. I don’t know.”

Jimin peeked at the newlyweds and asked, “Do you’d ever tell her?”

“It happened; it’s already in the past. Just gotta move on.” He sighed. “Again, I know she wouldn’t forgive herself if I told her all about it.”

“I understand.” The shorter nodded, swirling his glass in his hand.

“But I will tell her what’s happening now. I think she needs to know that at least.” He took one more sip before putting it down on the table. He got up and headed in your direction.

Jimin smiled, seeing the last moments of you and your best friend together.

Namjoon tapped on your husband’s shoulder, catching their attention. He cleared his throat and pushed forth his hand in front of you. “May I have a dance with my best friend?”

Jungkook beamed at him and nodded willingly. He palmed the small of your back and assisted you to your friend. “Just don’t fall in love with you.”

You all laughed as Namjoon snorted, “Gross, never.”

Jungkook walked away, leaving you to sway to the soft beats of the music. You wrapped your arms around his nape while he palmed your sides firmly. He wasn’t the best dancer, but this was manageable. You both swayed seamlessly together, almost like your bodies were conditioned to.

You looked up at him. He was much healthier, cheeks protruded like when you were children, and his body grew thicker as he ate well and exercised more. But what pressed you was his eyes. Though being better, they struggled to keep luminosity. Some days were high; others were low. You assumed he had gotten moodier after the surgery, but still the authentic Kim Namjoon.

“Ummm, though I want you to enjoy your wedding, there’s something I needed to tell you. It’s important.” He announced as he took the lead in the dance. He unexpectedly twirled you around, making you squeal and grab the collar of his suit.

“You’re not dying again, right?” Though the tone seemed sarcastic, you hardened your face.

“No, I’m not.” He scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Good, you’re not allowed to leave me.” You pouted cutely.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m not gonna leave.”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“I got a job offer to work in Madrid. Remember Hoseok? He referenced me to one of their museums, and they liked my work.”

“Oh, Joon! I’m so happy for you.” You congratulated him, then squeezed him tightly in your hug. “You’ll do great. When do you leave?”

“In a few months, I told Hoseok I needed some time to transition and finish up some work. I think it’ll be good, you know? A new change after my…tumor. Maybe I’ll feel better…I’ve been feeling stuck. I know I didn’t tell you right away, but you had the wedding and planning….”

“I don’t care. It’s fine. It’s understandable.” You smiled endearingly at your friend. “You know I’ll always love you, right?”

Namjoon crooned, “I love you too.”

Of course, he didn’t think he meant it, not grasping the words. It held no effect on him. But he knew that you enjoyed saying it to him, so to avoid any suspicions, he says it.

“You’re gonna be so far.” You frowned.

“Hey, I’m gonna call. We’ll do video calls now, and you’ll be able to explore Madrid vicariously towards me.” He promised, holding your form.

“You better…”

“Okay, enough about me. How do you feel?” He changed the subject to the meaning of tonight. “You’re a married woman.”

“It’s weird. My last name is now Jeon.” You stated. “I’m not used to it.”

“Could have been worse. Could have been Kim.” He quipped, making you throw your head back.

You scrunched your nose. Your grin morphed lower as a thought came up. “You remember Seokjin, right?”

“My God, why are you bringing up your ex on your wedding day?” He retorted. You gave a stern look, but it didn’t cause him fear. “But yes, what about him?”

“It wasn’t much about him. It was something he said after we broke up.” You squinted up as if it helped you remember.

“And?”

“Well, I ran into him in the cafeteria. It was like during finals. You weren’t there. You had your art analysis exam.” You recollected from the back of your mind. “He apologized, but it didn’t matter. But he told me he cheated because he knew he couldn’t win.”

“I know I’m not that experienced, but I don’t think a relationship is about winning,” Namjoon commented, still having the urge to punch that guy.

“No, no. He wasn’t like that. But I didn’t know what he was talking about at that time.” You breathed deeply and sighed. “He told me it was because of you.”

“Me? What about me?”

“He saw our friendship and deemed it as a threat.” You uncovered. “You and I were so closer, he felt like he was in the way and that he lost before it even started. ”

“But it wasn’t like that, right?” He probed, not thinking anything more. However, with your long pause and the discomfort on your face, it made him raise a brow at you. “___, speak please.”

“He got me thinking—what if it was you?” You shared. “That the love was much more than what we showed.”

The hypothetical question consumed his mind. It’s been a while since he was deep in thoughts like this. They were always meaningless and showed no impact. Similar to this one, inside him went blank.

“Can’t fathom it….” He could only say.

“I thought he was nuts, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought about wanting it to happen.”

That’s when Namjoon blinked dumbfounded at you. What did you mean by that?

“What did you say? W-why say it now?”

“Because it was in the past, and it stopped after meeting Jungkook.” You answered, reminiscing about those thoughts and feelings. “Now we’re good, happier now, and just look back at it and laugh.”

“You said it was in the past now. What did you think?” Namjoon wanted to understand, curious about what you were hiding from him.

“That…that I liked you. Maybe even falling in love with you??”

Namjoon only wished to have felt what you said, but it was all numb. “O-oh.”

“I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. You’re not, flower. I’m…I’m just a bit surprised.” He denied it, inhaling slowly and releasing his breath.

“I was too. Now thinking back, it would have been very cliche.” You giggled. “We’re breaking stereotypes.”

“We’re unmatched.” He smiled, his dimples being emphasized. “What made you stop having those thoughts?”

You tilted your head and gazed to the side of you to find your reflections. “Mmm, I think our souls were destined to meet like we had a gravitational pull that couldn’t tear us apart. I thought about twin flames.”

“Interesting concept. Tell me more.”

“Kinda like two peas in a pod. We’re one soul split in between two bodies. We see things in us that others can’t.”

“Flower, you can’t say we’re twin flames when you just married your soulmate.”

“It’s different! Twin flames just understand each other to no avail, while soulmates are naturally compatible.”

“Then how did this make you stop? Because in my opinion, it only would lead to more.” He went being a devil’s advocate for no reason. Maybe a stab at you for his past self?

“Two fires together will only create a bigger fire.” You simply explained. “We were meant to be, but we aren’t meant to be.”

The two of you continued to dance, being the few left on the floor. Your loved ones looked at you, intrigued by the strength of your bond.

And it indeed was.

You were made to test and develop your very understanding of yourselves, energy, and one another. You provided active spiritual growth as each other’s catalysts, awakening your mirrored souls. You pushed each other to release your wounds, remove any blockage that came your way, and help to lead you to true love, whether it was self-love or finding the love of your life.

Right before his surgery, Namjoon wondered what would have happened if you had reciprocated his love for you. Would it have been a happily ever after? Or ruin your friendship through the combustion too much for you both to handle?

What if you saw in him what he saw in you? What if you spoke to him like he spoke to you? What if you thought of him like he thought of you? What if life hurt you like it did with him? Would you ever love him the way he loved you?

He will never know.

But above all, he was glad to be with you, even if it meant being only your best friend. You continued your life and yourself, attached to his existence.

And if he lived a hundred years, for a hundred years, he’ll think of you.

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #bts x reader #bts fanfic #matcha masterlist

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purplecraze · 3 years ago

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Mmmm fuggionara

Who said “I love you” first Giorno felt rather insecure about getting in between of what the other 2 were already having, but Fugo talked it over with Nara and Nara was really chill about it. 2 hot blondes? yes please. Narancia says ‘I love you’ most often and was the first to do so with both of them. it always sounds very warm and accepting. Fugo would chime in soon enough, though he’d whisper it in a quiet voice to them. Giorno has some troubles accepting that this is really happening and that there’s not one, but 2 people for him. He doesn’t say it often, but when he does he is very earnest about it, poring his heart out in honesty with the both of them.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background they all have the same picture, since people don’t find it as suspicious if there’s a picture of 3 guys. if someone were to ask them ‘so, which one are you dating?’ they’d all just reply ‘Yes.’

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror Narancia knows it winds Fugo crazy with how it gets stripes on the glass, so he gets a kick out of doing it and then fleeing before the other finds out. The moment Giorno gets involved in it, though. it’s just...... ‘how the hell did you draw a Pepe Mona Lisa in condense?’

Who buys the other cheesy gifts Giorno’s flowers are everywhere. every day starts with fresh new flowers and a small note with encouraging and loving thoughts. Narancia loves to tinker around and make stuff for his 2 boys, though he tends to get lost in the proces, not being satisfied enough with what he made and it ends up being a forever work in progress. Fugo picks up on things that were mentioned in conversations. He likes to get them things of which he knows sure they’d want it and it’s useful to them.

Who initiated the first kiss The pining goes on for 5 acts until Narancia’s like ‘okay, which one of you 2 is going to kiss me, I don’t have all day.’ The blonds would first kiss him on the cheeks. Giorno’d probably get the jump on Fugo and kiss Narancia before he could. but he’d kiss Fugo right after, telling him ‘I’m sorry, don’t be jealous.’

Who kisses the other awake in the morning Giorno is commonly the first to wake up, but he’s not all too keen on disturbing the other 2. He wouldn’t want to wake them up if it wasn’t necessary. he has an alarmclock that vibrates, so the sound wouldn’t wake the others. But if they had plans on that day he’d wake them carefully with caressing and soft kisses on their brow, starting with waking Fugo, since he needs the longest to wake properly. If none of them have plans and Giorno didn’t set an alarm, Narancia’s the first to wake naturally. Nara gets super cuddly in the morning, worming his way in between them and snuggle the both to his heart’s content until it woke them up. He’s in charge of breakfast as a self-assigned penalty for waking them. Nara is always the first one to fall asleep too, so the other 2 spend a lot of time talking with each other in a hushed voice, while tweaking at the brunette’s hair and patting over his back absently. they know Nara doesn’t wake up once he’s gone, so they don’t have too be very careful and he sleeps better if the blondes play with his hair.

Who starts tickle fights Fugo is oh so pleased that he has 2 hands to pinch them both at the same time. Fugo is very pinchy and isn’t very gentle in it. and he thrives on the small yelp the other 2 produce when he caught them off guard. Nara gets grumpy about it and will reply ‘Giorno, hold him in place. he’s going down.’ once Fugo is rendered useless from the tickling, Narancia often tickles Giorno after too.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower ✨big ass BATHTUB!✨ it’s far more normal in Japanese culture to bathe together, so Giorno’s a bit ignorant on how embarrassed Fugo can get on the question if he may join. Fugo can’t ever say no to those earnest big eyes, though. And the awkward ice is soon enough broken once a 3rd boy chimes in with ‘2 dudes, chillin in a hot tub~🎶’ and they drag him in the water.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch Giorno is the most scatterbrained, so he often ends up forgetting to take proper care of himself. the times Narancia brings lunch over, Fugo takes him somewhere to eat and Giorno having brought his lunch properly are in and about 50/50/0 Around the time of his finals, Narancia was very nervous and forgot his lunch one time. He was pretty sure the other 2 were very busy and he had peace with them not having the time. But he was super touched that they both showed up to bring him lunch and encourage him. He scored 83 on the test~

Who was nervous and shy on the first date Narancia’s nervosity was most noticeable. The other 2 are always a bit awkward anyway, but to Nara it suddenly started to feel..... ‘real’ when they went on a date. Not as friends, but an ACTUAL date! all 3 were a bit fidgety in the start, with Giorno being the first to grab his resolve and take the others along to what they had planned (a themepark and casual dinner after) The tension melts away soon enough when they crack a joke and mess with one another for a bit. They’re close friends before they are lovers.

Who kills/takes out the spiders Giorno, obviously. Though he finds it hard to understand what’s the problem, they’re doing a good job in keeping insects out. Narancia HATES spiders, though can you blame him after having stood eye to eye with one twice your size. Fugo tolerates them, though he shouldn’t look at it for too long. The paws creep him out, especially the thick ones.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk Fugo and Narancia would often fight about it in the ‘no, I love you two more!’ kind of way. Giorno’s usually very quiet when drunk, and a bit of a sleepy drunk. but he’d sometimes mutter some words that are quite concerning in a loving fashion, that the other 2 are rendered speechless. (things like ’I’ve been thinking of buying us an island and sink the boat so you can’t ever leave.’)

#purplecraze #fugio #fugonara #gionara #fugionara #anonymous #shipping meme #fugo answers #tag meme

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Two / Mocha

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier learns his fate. You take him out to that dinner you promised.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language, mentions of food, tooth-rotting fluff. I mean it.

A/N: HI FRIENDS if you can’t already tell from my blog, I LOVE red velvet cake and this chapter is highly self indulgent. This fic is so near and dear to me because I really relate to the reader and put more of myself in her than I do others. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Mocha: espresso, steamed milk, and chocolate. Beloved for the sweet taste.

To his surprise, Javier didn’t get fired. In fact, they didn’t even mention Los Pepes. He walked in there, sweating bullets and filled with anxiety and caffeine, only to learn that they weren’t the review board. They were operations, and asked Javier what he knew about the Calí cartel. Afraid it was a trap, he didn’t answer, until the man across from him cracked a smile and told him about his new assignment.

“Your work with Escobar and the Medellín cartel was unconventional, but we needed it. If you’ll accept our offer, we’d like to assign you to Calí to head the investigation into their cartel.”

Javier’s brain froze in shock. He was wordless, staring blankly ahead and furrowing his brow. After a few moments, he mustered out all that he could. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Agent Peña. With the assignment would additionally come a raise in pay and rank, as well as-”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.”

“We haven’t finished the offer-”

“I’ll take it, sir. Thank you,” he said, nodding.

“Well… take this,” he said, making Javier stand from the chair across from the room and take the file from his hands. “This is the information you’ll need, including your new pay and details. We are asking that you take at least some of your banked vacation time. You have several months of it, Peña. Our code requires that-”

Javier’s fully aware of this policy. Use it or lose it. Unfortunately, he’d never had much time or want for vacation while chasing Escobar. What would he do? “Yeah, give me a month off,” he said mindlessly as he opened the file and scanned over the front page, in utter disbelief. He registered his surroundings after a second and looked up. “You won’t regret it, sir. Thank you,” he says and shakes the man’s hand before leaving the room.

Now, Javier stands at a payphone outside of the embassy, dialing your number in his pocket. When you pick up and ask who’s there, he laughs happily. “They didn’t fire me!”

“Congratulations,” you laugh as you realize it must be Javier. “What all happened?”

“I actually got promoted,” he admits, the adrenaline and caffeine rushing through his bloodstream. “It was absolutely crazy. They didn’t even mention Los Pepes or anything, just-”

“Are you ready for me to pick you up now?” You ask, cutting him off. “You can tell me the rest over some food. You need it. You didn’t eat that muffin I brought you.”

“What are you, my mother?” He asks dryly, but he’s too excited to be too annoyed. “No, I’ll head back to the hotel. Pick me up in 30 minutes?”

“Sounds great. Congratulations, Javier,” you tell him, grinning into the receiver.

“Call me Javi.”

“Okay… Javi,” you say, biting your lip to hold back from giggling. “I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. You start giggling happily, flopping back onto the couch. Javier makes his way to the hotel, smiling. He lights up a cigarette, sighing at the way the warmth of the lighter contrasts the cold and snowy air.

Holy fuck. You’re going on what could possibly be considered a date with a really hot guy and you need to get dressed, quick. You hurry around your tiny apartment, throwing on something nice-looking and messing with your hair. You spritz on some perfume, straighten yourself in the mirror, and rush out to the street.

Georgetown is beautiful in the snow, you smile to yourself, but you wince as you realize the snow might slow you down. Your car is a piece of shit, you have to admit, but you love it. Her name is Whitney, in honor of Whitney Houston, and you beg and plead with her to behave as you make your way to Javier’s hotel.

The radio plays some music quietly, and a handsome dark-haired man stands outside of the hotel, smoking a cigarette when you arrive. You flash your high-beams at him and he smiles as he puts out the cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “Hi,” you almost sing as he gets in the car. “Are you a hugger?”

“Am I a what?” He frowns and asks, looking at you.

“Do you like hugs?” You ask, as if it’s obvious.

“I… don’t really receive many. They’re nice, I guess,” he shrugs as he looks you up and down quickly. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he tells you.

Warmth collects in your chest at his words. “Well, thank you. And I ask because I wanted to give you a hug of congratulations. I’m a big hugger,” you shrug a little and tilt your head as you look at him. He looks nice, in a button-up and those tight jeans you saw him in earlier.

A car honks behind you and you jump, awkwardly waving behind you and taking off so the next car can drive up to the hotel. Javier chuckles a little. “Well… I do like hugs, I guess. No one has ever asked me that.”

You look at him briefly, with confusion in your eyes, before they find the road again. “What a sad, sad life,” you chuckle. “I suppose. Are you… like, recently single? Did you date when you were in Colombia?” You ask innocently.

Javier exhales in a light chuckle. “No, never really had a relationship. Lots of flings,” he admits, finding that to be the best word to describe his situation. “But no relationships.”

You nod along, eyes scanning the road as you drive to dinner. “I see.”

“How about you?” He asks, wanting to deflect the attention from himself. That seems to be a common theme with him, you’ve noticed. All the conversations center around you, no matter how hard you try to talk about him.

“Well, no. I haven’t really gone out much or done anything, really. I’m a bit of a homebody, but once I’m out I enjoy it. Problem is you can’t find a date from the couch.”

You reach the restaurant not much later, parking outside. You get out after chatting a little more, and Javi is taken by surprise when you wrap your arms around him in a big hug. “Uh, hi?” He laughs. He instinctively returns it, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed to his. He hasn’t had anything so tender in a long time.

“I told you, it’s a congratulatory hug!” You say with a grin as you squeeze him then break away. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiles down at you. “I… thank you. That was nice.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” you tell him and lead him inside, opening the door and heading into the restaurant.

Javier is a fantastic conversationalist. He tells stories with his hands, vividly explaining stories from the chase for Escobar. He tells you of his partner, Steve, and his crazy methods; about Colonel Carillo, who he still thinks is one of the strongest men he’s ever met; of Stechner, who you already want to gut-punch if you ever meet.

You watch him and admire the way his eyes dart about when he’s telling a story, the way he draws maps on the table with his fingers that you have no hope of understanding.

The food is great but the company is better. Javier’s laugh is a beautiful sound, one rarely heard by others. He listens to you just as attentively, smiling as you talk about the coffee shop, about Georgetown, all of your life.

By the end of the night, it’s easy to declare that you really, really like Javier. You like the way his lips quirk up in a smile, his intelligence and humor. You don’t want the night to end, truly.

When the bill comes, he takes it before you can even try. “Hey, I told you I was paying as a congratulatory dinner,” you frown.

“That can be another dinner,” he says mindlessly as he signs the receipt. “I always pay on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You beam at him, tilting your head, eyes twinkling.

He smiles as he looks up at you. “I was thinking it was. I have at least a month off work now, to be wherever I want and I have nothing to do. I’d like to properly take my time to get to know you,” he offers, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“It seems like nothing about you is proper, Javi,” you tease and sip your drink, quirking an eyebrow.

He mirrors you, sipping his drink too. “That’s fair. But we’re in the nation’s capital, I suppose we should be a little more…”

You look at him and try to fill in the blank, smiling. “Practical? Traditional?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what I meant to say there.”

You chuckle a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I like the sound of that.”

After dinner, you give Javier a little tour of Georgetown through the windows of your crappy car. The snow from earlier in the day has collected, dusting the tops of window sills and awnings over shop entries. Despite the snow, the car thermometer reads that it’s somewhat warm for the time of year.

There’s one warm little place with glowing lights. Despite the hour of night, it’s clearly open. Javier asks what it is. “Oh, that’s a little bakery,” you comment. “My favorite place, honestly. Their red velvet cupcake is fantastic.”

“That sounds good. I like chocolate more, to be honest,” he comments.

You continue driving for a few seconds, rolling your eyes. “They have a good one there, but it’s so one-dimensional. It’s just chocolate with chocolate on top. Red velvet is the best because you have the cake and the tangy frosting, and-“

“Pull over?” Javier asks, and you look at him in confusion but pull into a parking spot obediently and quickly.

Your eyes are wide in confusion. “What?” You ask him, concerned that something is wrong with the car.

“I’m buying you dessert,” he chuckles and gets out.

Your heart falls then and there for him. If you haven’t already decided, now you know that there’s no turning back. You want Javier Peña with a passion. “Jesus Christ, you could’ve told me that,” you laugh and turn off the car, getting off and bounding behind him. His long legs have already made strides ahead of you, leaving you to catch up.

“You wouldn’t have stopped, would you?” He asks, the gentle snow leaving white flakes on his dark coat. He looks so pretty like this, the warm light from inside the bakery glowing against his dark hair.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling. “No, maybe not.” He opens the door for you and you thank him and follow him in.

Javier walks to the counter and wastes no time. “Hi. I’ll take two red velvet cupcakes and two large coffees. How do you take yours?” He asks you as you join him at his side.

“From my café,” you tease him, before turning to the woman behind the counter with a polite smile and asking for two sugars and two creams. Javier asks for his black.

The two of you step back while she gets your order ready and you look at him, smiling a little. There are still soft white flakes in his wavy hair, which are slowly melting into water drops.

You don’t know it, but he’s looking at you just the same. He admires you, smiling a little, just enough the quirk up one side of his mouth. “Thanks for buying,” you tell him and step a little closer. He’s warm, you can feel it radiating off of him, and the shop’s blasting cool air throughout.

“Like I said,” he chuckles. “I always buy on the first date.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of your stray hair behind your ear. “Would you want to come up to my hotel room to eat the cupcakes?” He offers.

You shake your head. “I work early tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t.”

Normally, Javier would be disappointed. Normally, he’d want to fuck you on the first date, leave you screaming his name until you can’t help but come back for more. But to his surprise, he doesn’t mind. He has a whole month to be with you, a whole month to fall for the woman he’s already half-lovesick over. “Not a problem,” he nods and walks to the counter as the woman calls that your order is ready.

He hands you a large coffee, and you take a sip of the warm liquid, sighing. “There’s a little shelter out there,” you say, pointing to a bench with an awning above it to keep it clear from the snow. “Do you want to eat them out there?”

Javier half-smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

It’s warm for the season, but there’s still a cool breeze. You hurry over and sit on the small bench, Javier sitting next to you. The sides of your thighs touch, and you’re both aware of it, the proximity this small bench forces you to squeeze into. Javier sets the box on his lap and opens it, revealing two red velvet cupcakes. “These look delicious.”

“They are,” you grin and pick one up, licking a bit of the frosting off the top and sighing in content with the taste. Javier watches you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the connotation. You look over at him with wide eyes, holding back a laugh. You both break down giggling at the action, your head falling against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that like... that, I swear,” you shake your head as you sit up straight again.

“You looked good doing it,” he teases you and bumps your shoulder as you unwrap the paper. “I’m going to save mine for later.”

You frown at him. “Come on. I have to be here when you try the best dessert of all time.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m too full. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“Javi,” you whine. “There’s no point of you getting two if we don’t eat them together. You have to eat it, come on.”

Javier looks over at your cupcake, which has one bite taken. “Let me take a little bite of yours then.”

An idea strikes and you nod. “Sure,” you say casually, holding it up for him to eat it. When he goes in to bite it, you move it closer to his face, causing the cupcake to smash into his chin and onto his nose.

Javier thinks he’s the one that missed. “Fuck,” he laughs as he crosses his eyes as he looks down at his nose, seeing the cupcake and frosting smeared on his face. He sees you giggling and laughs. “Hey, you didn’t… what the fuck?” He laughs, bringing his face close to yours. “That was uncalled for.”

“You were being a grump. I had to,” you giggle, your face naturally coming closer to his.

“And we don’t even have napkins,” he shakes his head and looks at you. “How can I clean this up?”

Tilting your head, your eyes dart between his, smiling at the dark brown color and the way they soften under your gaze. “I have an idea,” you murmur, cupping the side of Javier’s face and setting the mashed cupcake back in the box.

Just a moment later, your lips are on his. His eyes have fallen shut and he sighs as you kiss him, a hand finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He sets the box on the bench behind him and scoots closer, a hand on the side of your neck.

He tastes like coffee and cream cheese frosting, his lips unbearably soft for such a hardened man. You soften him with your touch, when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

He’s in fucking Heaven, he thinks, murmuring your name against your lips. He knows you already, knows the kind of person you are. He’d figured you’d maybe give a chaste kiss on the first date if you liked the person enough. The voracity of your lips against his tells him you might just reciprocate the intensity of the deep ache in his ribs he feels for you.

After a moment, you break away and smile softly. “I didn’t get all of it,” you frown as you see that there’s still some frosting on Javier’s nose.

“At least now we match,” he teases and wipes your face of some red crumbs that transferred to your chin with the pad of his thumb.

You giggle and press your forehead to his, the warmth of his body perfect against yours in the slight chill of the December night. “Will you come visit me at work again tomorrow?” You ask him.

“Only if you make me a drink that tastes as good as you do.”

taglist:

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#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #caffeine rush

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ripperdaddy · 4 years ago

Text

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vector #v/vik #let us romance the ripperdoc you cowards

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yourfangirlfriend · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Seven

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Five and a Half

Chapter Six

A/N: Hey. Been a while. Here’s an update and a loose promise I’ll be better? Also thanks for all the notes, comments, and messages recently! I forget who wanted to be on the tag list, but comment and I’ll know for next time!

“It’s not serious.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Mother.”

“It’s not. You’re really overreacting.”

You curl your fingers into the bed of your palm and feel the bite of your nails digging into the flesh. “It’s cancer.”

“Psssh.”

You want to throw the phone across the room. Instead, you screw your eyes shut and lean back against the wall.

“Do you have an appointment soon?”

“You know I don’t like hospitals.” She says just as you see the deadbolt to your apartment flick unlocked. Javi pushes in seconds later, looking just as tired as you feel. You give him a little wave.

“Well weigh that dislike of hospitals against your dislike of death,” you say, turning away and putting your hand on your hip. You don’t want to burden him with this, but you see his eyebrows perk up anyway. Shit. You lower your voice. “Can’t Dad sit with you? Or Luna?”

“You worry too much.” She chides.

“You don’t worry enough!” You scold into the phone. You feel a hand around your waist and turn just in time to get a kiss on your forehead. It calms you down.

Sighing, you regain your composure. “Mom? Please promise me you’re going to go back.”

“Well of course I’ll go back, Bean, but really, I don’t want you worrying about me.” Somewhere in the background, you hear a crash behind her.

“Mom?”

“It’s just your father. He’s putting up shelves for the crystals and I think he fell. Can I call you back?”

You sigh. The only thing your mother is worse at than soothing your anxiety is calling you back.

“Yeah, sure.” You say. “But actually call?”

“I always do.”

“Hmm.”

“Bye Bean, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say before you hear the line go dead. You put the phone back on the hook and drop your head, trying it to calm yourself down. From the couch, you hear Javi perk up.

“Sounds like you had a worse day than me.”

You look up and give him a weak smile. “We’re having a lot of those, recently.”

How long are honeymoon periods supposed to last? You would have at least guessed six months. That only seems fair, given the seven months of angst and hookups that preceded finally, finally being able to admit to one another that maybe this meant a little more than you led on. You would have taken three months, even- three months of everything just being calm and quiet and nice, where the most stressful thing to happen is burning dinner because you’re too busy fucking on the counter.

You moved to the wrong fucking city.

It wasn’t even a week after your drunken exchange of I-love-yous that it began. All those bodies piling up once more, only this time the cops and their allies were giving just as good as they had got. Bodies from both sides seemed to pile up in higher stacks all around you two. Three days hadn’t passed without you having to calm down one of your students -or worse, one of your fellow teachers- over recent events. It was getting to you, too, if you were honest. Javi had warned you against going out like you once did, and as much as you hated it, you knew he was right. You thought of the friends of friends who had disappeared or died, caught in the crossfire or in the consequences of their poor decisions. The more you heard, the more you wanted to lock yourself in your apartment, hidden away from the chaos of the outside. You managed to see your friends at work but meet-ups outside had dwindled severely. Alessa found out she was pregnant and didn’t want to risk it. Lisa’s brother-in-law got caught in between two sides of a gunfight and couldn’t work any longer, so she was helping them more around the house. Maritza was the only one who still tried to go out, but it was a rare occasion you could even gather everyone up for a dinner at home.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you could have spent all this new, anxious free time with Javi, but if anything, he had picked up your slack when it came to existing in the outside world. Since Los Pepes had entered the picture, the man worked around the clock. Sometimes you would go the whole evening without seeing him, only to be awoken to the feeling of his body falling on the bed next to yours. While he still insisted on driving you to work every morning, he had begun staying at the office later and later, sometimes not returning until 2 am. The fire and anger that once fuelled him seemed to have died out, and the poor man is running on fumes. You could see it when you both woke in the morning in the dark circles under his eyes and the uptick in cigarettes he had been smoking. You try and take care of him - bringing him coffee in bed, rubbing his shoulders when he sits up, lost in his own thoughts. He appreciates it, he tells you as much, but no matter how hard you try he’s still as weary as ever when he finally comes back to you.

You don’t want to add to that. You know that what he’s seeing at work must be leagues beyond your little pep-talks and lonely evenings, and you don’t think it’s worth mentioning even if it has started to take its toll on you. You miss your friends. You miss days at work where the kids are sunny and mischievous, instead of withdrawn and scared. Hell, you miss your boyfriend- it feels weird calling a man his age that- you’re supposed to be in loved-up bliss, but instead it seems the universe decided to throw you another curveball. You overcame the intimacy issues only to come face to face with this bullshit not days later.

And now your mom is sick.

Javi gets up from the couch and comes to stand beside you, his tired hand dropping down to take your fingers. You smile at the effort, which seems small, but you know takes so much for him these days. You reach up to wipe a stupid tear out of your eyes.

“Swear she thinks she could cure this with sage and essential oil,” you try to joke. He doesn’t say anything, only runs his thumb along your cheek bone and tilt your chin up to look at him. You try and give him a smile before another year drops down your face. Frustrated, you press your hands into your eyes and let out a groan.

“Fuck.” You say. You drop your hands and look back at him. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, huh?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“I don’t…I don’t know.” I’m sorry I can’t be soft and happy for you when you come home? I’m sorry that he has to spend all day on the front lines and come back to this mess? “Things have been rough lately. I don’t want to add anything to your pile.”

“It’s not my pile that’s getting added to,” he pulls you against him, pressing a kiss against your head once more. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “You okay, hermosa?”

You nod, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. “They caught it early. She’s just stubborn. She’ll go, though. Her dad was an oncologist. She pretends like she doesn’t know, but…” you shake your head. “Fucking parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, reaching out to push a loose curl behind your ear. “Fuckin’ parents.”

You relax into him, letting your head dip down into the dip when his neck connects to his chest. He brings his arms around you to keep you there. The two of you stand like that for a moment, two idiots swaying to the silence of the world’s chaos.

“You’re not bad,” you sigh against him, snuggling in deeper. “For an alcoholic cop.”

He chuckles. “Agent.” He combs his fingers through your hair. “You’re not bad for a teacher who lets strange men finger her in a supply closet.”

You hold a finger up. “One time.”

He catches your hand and brings your fingers up to his lips, kissing the tips. It’s enough to make you melt.

“I am sorry,” he says, placing your hand against his chest and holding it there. “About your mom.”

You sigh. “What can you do?”

“Do you need to go back?”

“I’d never hear the end of it if I did,” you pull away from him and make for the coffee table, where you had set out two drinks for Javi’s arrival before your mother had called. You pick them up and extend one to him, and he takes it gratefully, dropping onto the couch next to you. “She’s convinced I worry too much. Me, her brilliant daughter who chose to live in the middle of a war zone,” you purse your lips. “Sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head. “You’re right,” he leans forward to set his drink down on the coffee table before resting his elbows on his knees, bending forward in a pose of contemplation. Sensing the shift in the air, you sit up and run your fingers along his back.

“Javi- I didn’t mean…”

He shakes his head again. “This thing…it’s a fucking mess. All of it.” He sighs. “Sick of seeing fucking bodies.”

You reach for something to say to comfort him, but you know there’s nothing. Instead, you scoot closer to him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Have you thought about it? Going back to Texas for a while?” He asks.

You shake your head. “She doesn’t want me to. And neither do I,” you reach up and lace your fingers through his, unclasping a worried hand. He turns to you, his eyes flicking up and down your face.

“You shouldn’t stay here because of me. You’d be safer.”

You blow a raspberry. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Sensing he took the joke to heart, you nudge him with your chin. “I’m here because I want to be here. With the kids. With you.”

He turns back to face forward, and you’re unsure if he’s satisfied with your answer before he speaks again.

“If anything happens to you…” he shakes his head. It forms a pit in your stomach.

You reach out and press his hand against the center of your chest. When he looks at you puzzled, you smile. “See? Still beating. Think that’s a good sign.”

He sighs, but not without a small smile on his face. Taking advantage of the moment, you reach out and take him by the chin, pulling him in for a long kiss. When you break away, his hands come up to pull your face back to his, and you can’t help but smile as he presses his lips against your mouth and begins to trail down your neck.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing the pulse point that makes you shiver. “I think it’s a good sign.”

You’re not great at taking care of yourself when you’re stressed out. Who is, really? You hope he hasn’t noticed, though, the way the bags under your eyes have darkened to match his or how much more quickly you seem to go through liquor bottles. You want to think he doesn’t notice- that he’s too focused on other things, but it’s getting harder to pretend. You try and rally your energy every time you see him. You want to be this bright spot for him in the middle of all this chaos and violence. You cook, you clean, and you go down on him like you want to live the rest of your life on your knees. You smile. You joke. You try to be pure sunshine in the bullshit he’s caught in.

But now your mom’s sick. And, fuck, you’re empty.

He must notice it. He has to see it when he comes home to you, and your house is a mess. He has to hear it when you spend the next few weeks by the phone, arguing with your family- Luna is too busy with the baby to go home, your father doesn’t want to believe it’s real, and your mother-fuck! - she keeps telling you not to worry. Not to worry! Like the few times she calls, she doesn’t tell you offhandedly how much worse she’s getting. Like you’re not trying to keep yourself from telling her how you hear gunshots every night, or how you can’t go a week without seeing a dead body. Like you’re not protecting everyone from your feelings because surely, they have it worse. You know everyone has it worse. How do you compete with cancer and being a foot soldier in the war on drugs? You’re just some teacher. You’re just some lady in over her head. Like everyone else in this country.

Maybe it was just a bad day when he came home that Wednesday. For both of you. One of your students’ siblings had died the day before, and you had spent the majority of the day trying not to cry alongside an eight-year-old. You had been trying to reach your mother for days, but the calls kept getting picked up by the answering machine and you couldn’t come up with any other way to say, “please call me back and tell me you’re okay”. When you finally came home, it was to a messy house - why are you so disappointed? it’s been a disaster for weeks- and you barely have enough energy to kick a few things out of a sort of path. You check your messages, willing there to be one overlooked recording of your mother’s voice assuring you she’s doing fine before her scheduled surgery, but the tape is woefully empty, just as it was yesterday and the day before. You pick the stupid machine up from the table and throw it to the ground.

You chain-smoked three cigarettes by your window, zoning out into the ether as night descended upon you so gradually until it was suddenly dark. You thought of your student, the one who came home to a massacred older sibling, and your stomach cramps. Before you can stop yourself, you imagine your mother in the same position they described to you that morning- spread out like a starfish on the floor, eyes wide open and dull as they stare up to the ceiling, a halo of blood around their head. Your throat itches and you light a fourth cigarette.

When you went to the refrigerator, finally, but discovered upon opening the door that you had once again forgotten to go grocery shopping. The only things that stared back at you were three-day-old pasta leftovers, some eggs, and a few beers.

“Fucking idiot,” you said to yourself.

You pulled out the carton of eggs and had begun to whisk them together when you heard the door creak open. You turned around to call out a greeting but bit your tongue when you saw his face. A deep scowl marked his otherwise handsome features, and he had already lit a cigarette before coming in.

“Hey,” he said as if he was annoyed with you. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the eggs in front of you. He made for the couch, stripping off his jacket as he walked.

“Fuck!”

You turned around to see him wavering, trying to regain his balance. He reaches out and grabs the edge of the counter, but it’s stacked so high with papers that his hand slips and he’s falling back onto the floor- but not before hitting the back of his head. You run around, dropping to your knees beside him as he pulls a bloodied hand from the back of his head.

“Hang on- “you run to the sink and grab a wet towel. Jogging back to him, you reach out to nurse the area when he snatches the rag out of your hand.

“I can do it myself,” he says. “Why is your fucking answering machine on the floor?”

You feel stupid and lost for words, like a child who just got scolded. You hold your hands in front of you.

“I want to help- “

“If you want to help, why don’t you clean the fucking apartment?” He snaps.

Your eyes widen. He’s been grumpy for weeks, surly even, but there’s an extra bit of venom in his voice tonight. Before today, maybe you would have called him on it, snatched the rag out of his hand, and told him to go fuck himself, to go to his place and bleed over his own towels.

But…fuck you’re tired. You have been hanging by a thread all day and the only thing that was keeping your eyes dry was the thought of curling up with him tonight. Maybe if one of the many, horrible things hadn’t happened today you would already be kicking his ass out, instead of standing there dumb and speechless, taking this abuse you don’t deserve.

So, you let him have the rag. You turn back and walk to the kitchen and keep making the eggs.

He has it worse. He has it worse.

You two eat dinner in silence. You can tell he’s not pleased with the meager meal, but he just grunts and shovels it into his mouth. You barely eat, picking at little bites like a bird. Instead, you think about how chemotherapy makes people lose their appetite, and wonder if your mother can eat right now. You imagine her too-long blonde hair must have begun to fall out, and for a moment you think you can feel the sickly strands tightening around your fingers. It’s all-encompassing, and you don’t hear when Javi tries to get your attention.

“Eloise!”

You jerk your head up, your blank face meeting his. He frowns.

“I said do you want a drink,”

“Oh,” you say, softly. You shake your head. “No.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes up from the table, going to the liquor cabinet. When he pulls the doors open, his head drops, disappointed.

“You’re out.”

“Oh?” You turn around. He turns and sends you a look.

“Yeah.” He says

“I forgot to go to the…” you wave your hand.

“Seems like you forgot to do a lot of things,” he sighs. You frown, a bit taken aback by his annoyance. But yet again, you bite your tongue. He sighs and walks towards the table, snatching up his keys.

“Where are you-?”

“To get some from my apartment.” He says. He swings the door open with too much power, and when it falls closed with a crack it makes your shudder.

Across the room, the phone rings.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over that same answering machine that had claimed Javi. You yank the phone off the hook, shoving the phone to your ear.

“Mom?” Your voice is like a little girl’s.

“What?” The male voice says. Your shoulders deflate.

“Sorry,” you say, pressing your hand to your forehead. You look up as the door to your apartment swings open again, and Javi walks in with a storm cloud over his head, whiskey clutched in his fist. “He just walked in, hang on.” You hold the phone out to Javi. “Steve.”

He lets out a sigh and walks forward, taking the phone from your hand. In a daze, you walk towards the kitchen and begin to clean up the few dishes you dirtied, your mind zoning in and out of reality. You don’t notice you’re just standing with the water running until a hand comes from the corner of your eye and switches the tap off.

“Stop watering the pipes,” Javi says. He walks back to the table and lights a cigarette, sitting down and kicking his feet up. You turn back to look at him.

“Everything alright?” You ask.

He scoffs. “No, it’s not fucking alright.” He takes a drag and blows a plume of smoke out. He looks up to you, his eyes darting to the glass he left by your hand. He makes to sit up.

“I’ll get it,” you say, and you pick it up, walking over towards him. You’re just about to hand it to him when your ankle gives, and you drop the glass, spilling his drink over his pants.

“Goddammit!” He yelps. He looks up at you - and you know it’s not you, you know he’s had a bad day, you know there’s so much on his plate- but the snarl he has feels like a punch to the stomach.

“I’m sorry, let me- “you reach for the napkins you thought were on the table before realizing you forgot to buy those, too. Your hand flails around you as you’re caught in your anxiety.

“You’ve done enough,” he grumbles, pushing up and walking past you to pull a rag from the counter.

You’re not sure why hearing him blotting his pants behind you does it, but you feel it immediately. That hot, wet trail down your face. And once that first tear is loose, you know you can’t stop. Suddenly, you’re silently weeping, snot and water running down your face as your shoulders shake and you reach up to try and hold yourself.

You let out a long breath, but it comes out as shaky, and the sounds from behind you stop.

“…El?”

You begin to paw at your face but realize it’s a lost cause. Shaking your head, you ignore him and walk back to your bedroom, closing the door behind you before dropping against the wall.

You were doing so well. You hadn’t cried, you hadn’t screamed at him during his shittier moods, you had been an angel. You pushed through all of this bullshit, hoping that, even though you couldn’t compete with his life, he would notice. He would realize how much of toll your own, lesser bullshit had begun to take on you, and had some sympathy. More than that, you had hoped he would appreciate it- how you never pushed him to take care of you, how you were always there for him with a meal and warm arms, how you were soldiering on for him through all the stress. You wanted him to think you some sort of martyr, a girlfriend who was pushing all her needs down to take care of him when he needed it most. If he was emotionally unable to reciprocate, he could at least fucking notice.

But he didn’t. He was too up his own ass, too busy at work, too concerned with being the only person in this relationship with problems that he didn’t even fucking see how much your teeth nearly cracked every time you faked a smile for him. You were mad at yourself, too- you had folded into this smaller version of yourself after making excuses for him, and now you had the gall to be sad about it? You had paved this path. You tried to protect him from your pain, thinking it was kind, when really you were coddling him.

You feel anger rise in your chest. You clench your fists in your hands, and you’re about to scream into your knees when you hear the soft knock on the door. Furled by anger, you stand up quickly and swing the door open to see a much softer looking Javi in the doorway.

And that takes the wind out of your sails. Instead of laying into him like you wanted, you let out a pathetic sob. Immediately he’s pulling you towards him and you’re caught in a tight hold as you sob into one of his nicer shirts.

“El,” he says softly, and you choke out another sob on his shoulder. Carefully, the two of you descend to the floor of your bedroom as he keeps his hold on you, tracing his fingers up and down your back as you continue to cry against him.

His tone is soothing as he circles through what little he can say - “baby” and “I’m sorry” and “it’s okay”. As your cries come to a slow, you pull away from him and try to wipe your face.

“Baby,” he says again, reaching out to touch your cheek. You dare to make eye contact, and, fuck, it breaks your heart. He looks like a little boy who just realized he had crossed a line. You let out a pathetic little hiccup as you wipe your eyes again.

“I’ve tried- “you stutter on your words as your tears keep falling. “I- I know it’s hard for you, really fucking hard, I know my d-day to day can’t compare to the shi-shit you see,” you try to take in a deep breath. His hand runs down your arm. “But I’m not doing okay. And I’ve tried to put that aside to t-take care of you, but - fuck, I need- “you feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. Fuck, you haven’t cried this hard since you were a kid.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fuck, Javi, my mom is dying!” You yell. “She’s dying and I can’t get a hold of her. And every day I have to go to the school and hear more awful fucking stories about other kids’ families dying. I have to let them think I have any kind of answer when I fucking don’t! I’m just as lost as they are! I’m in my godamn thirties and all I want is to hug my fucking mommy, too!” You huff a few more breaths. “But I can’t, so I pretend. And I come home to you, and I- fuck, I love you so much, and I don’t want to burden you or make you take care of me when you have it so, so much worse but today- “you swallow, your mouth dry from crying - “today she was supposed to go in for surgery. And I haven’t heard anything. I spent all of lunch not eating because an eight-year-old, a fucking eight-year-old! Was telling me that she found her brother with a gunshot wound between his eyes. And I can’t do anything to help her! Just like I can’t do anything to help my fucking mother who won’t even call her daughter back to leave a message to say ‘hey! I SURVIVED SURGERY’. And maybe if I hadn’t had all of that I could put up with your shitty moods like I have been for weeks because I know it’s hard and I know you have it worse but today I just-I fucking couldn’t! I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t take YOU yelling at me when all I wanted was for you to fucking- I don’t know! Pull me in your lap and pet my hair! Ask me how my day was! Ignore my dirty apartment the way I’ve ignored your passive-aggressive moody bullshit for a month because you understand I’m not doing the fucking best right now! And I need the person who loves me to fucking act like it!” You fall forward, sobbing again. The arm on your shoulder drops, and you expect for a moment he’s going to get up and leave you to cry into the night. Instead, though, he scoots back until his back leans against the footboard of the bed. You look up in time to see him open his arms.

“Come here,” he says.

Too eager, you scramble over to him as he pulls you against him, petting your arms and face as you keep weeping against him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I do see it. I do. I promise.”

You hiccup and he pulls you tighter.

“I know you have it worse- “you start.

“Stop,” he says, pressing your head against his chest.

You keep crying over the next half hour as he whispers sweet things to you. When you’ve exhausted yourself, you drop your head to his lap, fading in and out of consciousness as his fingers comb through your hair, soft and comforting. You don’t quite remember him urging you up and into bed, but by the time you’ve regained your senses somewhat he’s pulled your back against him, tucking his nose into the nape of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. He shakes his head.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He says. “Go to sleep, hermosa.”

You do.

The next morning is quiet. The two of your dress quickly and rush out the door, having slept past your alarm. He tells you briefly he’s got a lot on at work today, and you take it as a sign you’ll be walking back this afternoon. You nod and give him a quick peck before running up the stairs to the school, at least somewhat happy to have avoided talking about last night.

So, you don’t expect it when you leave the school one afternoon and see him waiting for you outside, his arms crossed on his chest, aviators on, posed in front of his car like he’s in a film. You fight the urge to smirk when you drop down to the final step and his mouth jerks up at the corner.

“You look like a cliche,” you deadpan, walking up to give him a quick kiss. Only, it’s not quick- you try to pull away tastefully, but he takes you by your waist and pulls you into a deeper kiss. You give him a swat on his shoulder but return it regardless, luxuriating in the attention. It feels nice.

“Get in the car,” he says when he finally pulls away. You tilt your head.

“You takin' me somewhere?”

“Not if you don’t get in the damn car,” he swats your ass, causing you to shriek, before beginning to walk around the front. Despite yourself, you smile as you clamber in.

You don’t ask questions throughout the whole drive, but you admit you’re a bit disappointed when you just pull back up to your apartment building. You try and mask it, hopping out of the car and waiting expectantly for him to come around and join you. He climbs the stairs quickly, beating you to the door to hold it open.

Without thinking, you reach for your keys. It’s almost muscle memory now. You haven’t been to his place for any real time in months. You think it reminds him too much of work.

Except, now he’s nodding you over to his door he’s begun to unlock. You come to stand by him, eying him as he fiddles with the lock. As the bolt clicks, he smiles, then turns to you.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Really?”

“Fuck you. Yea really.”

With a small grin on your face, you make a show of daintily closing your eyes. You see a flash of light- him waving his hands in front of your face. Convinced you really have your eyes closed, you hear the door open, then feel a warm hand taking your own. You walk inside, blindly stepping after him until he drops his hand, and you feel his hands come to rest on your shoulders.

“Alright,” he says.

You open your eyes, and it takes you a while to realize what he’s even made a fuss about. In front of you are two plates with a single sandwich and a side of potato chips. You’re kind of annoyed for a second- when you surprise him, it’s always with a cake or really good head, never just dinner. Dinner that’s basically a sandwich.

You turn to look at him before noticing that the apartment has been cleaned up. You swivel around, taking in the sight, noticing the repaired answering machine has been put carefully back on the side table. You haven’t seen your home this clean in a while, and you realize that he must have done this, too. You start to say something, but he’s already pulling out your chair for you, urging you to sit down. Lost for words, you drop yourself into the seat and watch as he comes around to sit in front of you. He waits for you to say something, but when you don’t, he begins.

“It’s not much,” he says finally. “But you were right. I’ve been a dick, and I’m not the only one with shit on my plate.” He rubs the back of his neck. “When my mom was sick…I should be better to you. For you.” He bites his lip. When you still don’t say anything, he continues. “I’m sorry, El. You’re so…good, and I’m…” he shakes his head. You reach out your hand, covering his. There’s a flash of a smile across his face. “I called sick to work. They were having me doing bullshit paperwork, anyway. Murphy can handle that.” He clears his throat. “It’s uh, not much, but a rich guy owed me a favor, and he had a smoker. I had some old rubs from Señora Garza, the one with the hands? My dad sent me them from back home a while, and I know it’s not going home, but I know you miss the food- “you reach forward and pull the top of the sandwich off.

Brisket.

You look up at him, and you start to cry.

His face drops, alarmed. “Oh- no, baby- “

“Javi,” you wipe a tear away. “This is- this is - “you bend forward and let out another small cry. Immediately, he’s on his feet, coming around to kneel beside you. Just as he’s about to say something, you lean forward and catch his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s long and warm, and when he finally breaks away, you’re rewarded with a bright smile.

“You like it?”

“I love- I love it.” You say, running a hand through his hair. “This is very sweet.”

He looks down, pleased with himself. You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. He reaches up and takes your hands.

“I…I really love you, El,” he says, not quite daring to look you in the eyes until he’s finished his sentence. “I just hope you know that.”

You nod before pressing another kiss to his lips. “I do,” you say. “Even when…I do know, Javi.”

He nods, and the two of you sit there, blissed out together for a moment before he lets out a breath.

“Well, you better eat. Fucking thing took six hours to smoke, better not let it get too cold.”

You let out a laugh as he stands and comes to sit across from you. With a smile, the two of you eat. It’s not the perfect approximation of the food back home, but it’s enough to fill you with the comfort you had been craving for weeks. Javi watches, proud of himself as you lick the remaining sauce off a finger, smiling at the flavor.

“You did good, Peña.” You say, flicking your eyes back to him. He smiles, tossing the napkin down between the two of you before making to stand. He walks over and extends a hand down to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Is there more to eat?” You ask, somewhat hopeful. It’s impossible, but if he found a way to get a malt shake down here too you think you’d have to spend the next three weeks with his dick in your mouth.

“Something like that,” he says, urging you up. You send him a playful look as he reaches behind you and pulls the zipper to your skirt. With strong hands, he pulls your underwear and skirt down to your ankles, dropping to his knees to let you step out of them. With a twinkle in his eye, he smiles up at you.

“Go sit on the couch,” he orders. “And keep your knees apart.”

Turns out his surprises come with pretty good head, too.

A/N: Idk if this is of any interest but in my head Eloise is played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. But of course, you cast her however you like!! She’s yours, too

#it's nothing serious #narcos #narcos: tv #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier Peña x oc #fic

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colorsofmyseason · 3 years ago

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I was tagged by @philipp-lahm for this, thanks so much bestie :)

Rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your friends.

1. good day (onesided!kieran tierney/nicolas pepe, kieran tierney/ben white, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Perhaps it’s his fault, though Nico has no idea what it is.

2. one call away (steno, football rpf, teen and up)

“You should’ve given me a Leverkusen ring,” was the first thing Bernd said to him when he picked up his boyfriend’s call that morning.

3. love at second sight (hector bellerin/various, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Mikel wasn’t his first, and maybe not his second either (if Hector recalled correctly, he’d been dared into making out with his teammates during his youth days more often than necessary), but he’s the first one Hector willingly kissed himself.

4. we found love right where we are (various couples, football rpf, teen and up, valentine's day fic)

The seventh time he tells himself that he's not jealous as the pic of Hector and Martin holding hands flashes through his screen again and again, Dani has to admit that he probably is.

5. you're my fortress, shield, savior, armor (nule, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

The first time Alexander Nubel met Niklas Sule, he was terrified.

6. the cold never bothers him anyway (kieran tierney/nicolas pepe, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

“Okay, first of all, I want you guys to know this isn’t my doing,” Ainsley states as they step onto the snow-covered pitch.

7. red lights (arsenal fc, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Lucas Torreira doesn’t remember when exactly he started falling for Bernd Leno.

8. never believe it's not so (cedric soares-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

He has sworn off using his magic in battles, even the “fight” on the pitch.

9. love still goes on (emi martinez-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Emi’s goodbye to Arsenal fans was bittersweet.

10. the past is just a bridge we burned down behind us (thiago alcantara-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Thiago didn’t know why his brother decided to text him now, all of a sudden.

11. baton touch (hector bellerin-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Truth be told, Hector never thought it would end this way.

12. what a magical night [part 2] (hector bellerin-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

When your manager and sort-of-unofficial mentor in magic comes to you and tells you that you have to work the magic by yourself against a team who just won the Premier League this season and has considerably better squad than your team, not to mention five of the most powerful wizards you’ve ever known, you don’t get to say no.

13. countless reasons (steno, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

"Let's move in together."

14. chasing starlights (bayern munich, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Honestly, Manu thinks, for a team as big as PSG, they should’ve known that putting five active wizards at once in their starting eleven is a bit excessive.

15. the sweetest vengeance (bayern munich, manuel neuer-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

The ball rolls from player to player.

16. spellbound (neuller, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

The first time Thomas asks Manuel to fetch his water bottle for him, the goalkeeper simply does that without thinking.

17. what a magical night (hector bellerin-centered, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Hector swears it’s not usually this easy.

18. passing the limits of your senses (germany nt, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

Bernd stares at Marc-Andre, not knowing what to make out of the other keeper’s strange request, while Marc-Andre only stares back at him with an indifferent look that is borderline bored.

19. in this white frozen world (steno, football rpf, teen and up, future au)

Marc has just returned home from training when his phone rings.

20. in weakness and in strength (steno, football rpf, teen and up, supernatural au)

From the first day he started dating Marc-André ter Stegen (though the two of them can never point out the exact first day, considering how twisted and convoluted the beginning of their relationship was), Bernd has known that his life will be anything but ordinary.

I'm tagging @butterflyliverpoolkopite @coffeebreakcreations and @manuelmueller and anyone else who wants to do this as well!

#i don't know whether there's any pattern #though i noticed that i tend to put some reference to the time lol #tag game #fanfiction #thanks!

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years ago

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Okay I was gonna do another SG:WoT post anyway because we’ve got a new King interview but THEN, he released the cover to issue four so you KNOW I gotta geek out about this.

(Sorry that this blog is all SG:WoT, all the time now, but I am just. Insanely excited that Evely is drawing Supergirl. Feel free to block/mute these posts as needed. XD)

Okay, so!

First! The interview!

It’s on (ugh) screenrant so I’m not gonna link, I’m just gonna nab the interesting bits:

On the different direction of the book, and if he wanted to go back to the original Adventure Comics vibes: “So, the idea of this thing was to strip her story down, because Supergirl has a majorly weird history in terms of continuity. At least 13 writers have rewritten her origin over the years. Her dad has 13 origin stories; sometimes he's evil, sometimes he's a robot, sometimes alive, sometimes he's dead. She's changed dramatically in the last 10 years, between coming back to life to the New 52 to Rebirth. She's gone through so much that it's hard to get a hold of her. Not to mention in the '90s, when I was coming up, she was like an ectoplasmic space angel. There's so much there, and I just wanted to take all that stuff off and get to the core of the character; get her out of her normal environments and her normal conflicts. It seems like all our stories are about her dad or her relationship to Superman. Instead, let's see the purity of that character.”

On starting the book the way he did: “...I wanted to start out with a very human moment of a person turning 21 and getting drunk. And a person who is getting drunk because they want to be alone, and they just want to forget about the shit that's happened in their past. That's such a human moment. And the fact that she's Supergirl, so she waits till it's legal - because these super people, they follow the rules. She waited, and now it's legal and she can have this moment. She goes off by herself, with her dog that always follows her, and she has a moment where she can be free. For a lot of people in the US, whether you've been drinking since you were 14 or started that day, your 21st birthday and the day after are days you remember for the rest of your life. It's a day of freedom and consequence, and I wanted to show Supergirl going through that.”

On rising to the challenge of helping Supergirl perform better, sales/popularity-wise: “ When I first got on this book, I called Steve Orlando, who had just written a Supergirl run. And he was the one who opened my eyes to how good the character is. He had such insight into her. He was like, ‘There is a difference between Clark and her, and what she's gone through.’ He just laid it for me.”

On starting the book off with Ruthye’s journey, and gradually building to Kara’s: “ I was like, "Okay, this is going to be from the point of view of someone under Supergirl." And so I switched the point of view to this new brand new character, whose name is Ruthye. And we went from there: we start with Ruthye's story, we see her discover Supergirl, and she's our audience. She's our way in, the way Robin has always been the way into Batman.”

On whether or not other characters will show up, outside of Supergirl and Ruthye: “It's like my Superman: Up in the Sky, where it's a distillation of the character. You'll see other characters, but the focus of every issue will be on Supergirl. And it's something where at the very end, you can be like, "Why is Supergirl great? Why is she important to the DC Universe? What is her future in the DC Universe? Here, read this one trade that can answer all three of those questions at once."So, there will be other characters in the Super universe. But the focus will always be on her; on Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. It's her finding out about herself and her own strength.”

On Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow vs. his other titles: “Supergirl is my first 2021 book, or my first book of the 20s. That wrapped up my books of the teens, and now we're in a new generation. God willing, from the moment I started this book, I was like, ‘I'm gonna take a risk, and I'm gonna write books that are a little brighter.’ I know that's coming from me, and it's not to say we're going to avoid conflict or we're not going to explore the depths of the human soul. All that stuff will be in there. But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

On how he thinks folks will react to the Krypto cliffhanger: “I mean, they're gonna think it's a good cliffhanger. That's how I think they're going to react. They're going to say, ‘I want the next issue.’ That's literally my job as written in my contract. Something where at the end of an issue, someone says, ‘I want more.’ So, that's how I hope they react.”

As mentioned, this is not the full interview; the whole thing can be found on screenrant, and I think Tom King shared a link on his twitter.

And now, as always, SOME THOUGHTS:

I love that he brings up the fact that so many Supergirl stories focus on Zor-El and Clark, and how he was like, ‘let’s not do that.’

That’s my big gripe with modern Supergirl comics; they are trying so hard to make a statement on why we need both a Supergirl AND a Superman, that they end up spending ALL THEIR TIME talking about Clark, instead of, you know. Telling a fun Supergirl story.

Same thing with Zor-El! I know folks love Rebirth--I like it quite a bit myself--but I think the nostalgia goggles prevent folks from remembering that the whole first arc of that book was re-doing the ‘Cyborg Superman’ garbage from the Nu52.

Speaking of Rebirth, really like that of all the recent SG writers he coulda talked to, he talked to Steve Orlando.

Like, if ya can’t get Gates on the phone, get Orlando.

(I get the sense that Gates doesn’t like this book, actually, based on a vague tweet. But don’t quote me on that.)

Looks like Ruthye is gonna be our POV/audience insert character for the whole run. I’m...mmmm. I don’t love it, but I understand the logic here. Especially since he compared it to Batman and Robin--how you use Robin as your entry point for a bat book.

And you know what? Kara’s supporting cast needs some help, so. Welcome to the Superfam, Ruthye.

I also love the explanation behind the drinking thing, as well as the fact that Kara waited until it was 100% legal for her to drink because OF COURSE SHE WOULD.

I am so worried that Krypto is gonna die b/c of what we saw in Future State. I’m over here with my Pepe Silva board like, ‘Well, what if Kara agrees to help Ruthye because Krem MURDERED HER DOG?!?! WHAT IF THIS IS JOHN WICK IN SPACE?!?!?!’

So I am DISMAYED that King does not reassure us AT ALL.

Thus I am forced to cling to this tidbit here: “ But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

Killing the dog would not be joyful. XD So, like. I’m REALLY HOPIN’ HE’LL BE OKAY.

AND LASTLY, (Except not really)

I have some additional, miscellaneous thoughts unrelated to the interview b/c I’m me and I’m loving having a Supergirl comic back on the shelves, however polarizing it may be.

Something I realized, when details started to come out regarding the book, and that other folks have now noted as well: Kara was 16 when Rebirth launched in 2016; she’s just turned 21 in 2021, making her one of the extremely few comic characters to age in real time.

I don’t think that was planned, but it is cool.

It occurred to me on a re-read that Ruthye never calls Kara Kara in her narration, only Supergirl. And I was a little sad! But then I remembered that Kara wouldn’t necessarily reveal her identity to people she’s helping, she would just be ‘Supergirl’ to them.

I really do love how, so far, there has been NARY A MENTION of Kara angst-ing over being in Clark’s shadow, or being Superman’s cousin.

It appears that her drinking alone on a remote planet is more related to trying to forget her trauma/grief related to Krypton. MAYBE. We don’t know yet.

The Clark thing could still come up. I hope it doesn’t.

(Interesting to note! Kara recently appeared in Action Comics, helping Clark and Jon investigate some Kryptonian refugees; IDK how closely these books will necessarily ‘work together’ in terms of continuity, but! It’s possible that the discovery of those mysterious refugees was triggering, thus sending her on her way to her own solo title.)

(Well. That’s gonna be my headcanon, anyway. XD)

AND LASTLY, (for real this time)

ISSUE FOUR COVER!!!!

Okay, some immediate thoughts:

GOOD LORD IT’S STUNNING.

I loooooove the fire motif, reminds me of a part from the Rebirth run, where Kara met the Super-Man of China, and they visually referenced All-Star Superman, having the Kryptonians kind of...become the sun.

Also STAR CHART?!?! PIRATE MAP!?!?!?!

The VIBES I tell you, the VIIIIIIIBES.

Also I love that it’s just Kara.

Don’t get me wrong! I like Ruthye just fine so far! But yeah, yeah, give me some more solo-Kara focus, even if it’s just in the art.

Just realized that once this thing gets collected as a TBP, we might get some Evely art backmatter. OhHhhHHhhH YESSSS.

Anyways, the long wait for issue 2 begins!

#stranger speaks #long post #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #comic thoughts #comic opinions #interview

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devilsrecreation · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on Muppet Fairy Tales part 4: (last one)

Bella Thorn, the Sleeping Beauty:

Yes, I know it’s a story, but the fact that Big Mean Carl is married to Mean Mama is hilarious to me, since I hc him as aro/ace (how can he not be?)

WHY IS WALLEYE PIKE HERE?!?!😂😂😂 AS IN THE MUPPIRATE, THE BACKGROUND CHARACTER! MY FISH BOY IS IN THIS STORY? WHY?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Also I read Walleye’s rhyming prophesy in his voice and I’m proud of it

And he gets eaten....big surprise

Just sitting here how a monster and a bunny-bear hybrid thing could create a rat (which is our girl, Yolanda btw!)

What the fu-Camilla is Maleficent?....ok...giving Piggy a break

I love how Camilla’s yelling (squawking) just confused everybody

#goodparenting by Carl. Makes me wonder how good he is with kids irl

“as young Yolanda grew up, for she turned out to be modest, good-natured, and an excellent gnawer, and everyone who saw her was bound to fall for her”-cuz she a QUEEN

Apparently, Yolanda is having a quinceñera....I had no idea she was Hispanic (prolly not)

So...Camilla let Yolanda prick her finger and it says here that she “let loose a creepy cackle and disappeared”.....how the hell does a chicken cackle? What does that sound like?

WHOOO! STRANGEPORK IS MENTIONED IN THE STORY LET’S GOOOO

ANOTHER WHOOOO! RIZZO’S HERE!

Ooh yay! Fozzie’s in here!

I wonder how Carl really felt about spooning with Mean Mama? He probably hated every minute of it

Aaand just like the others, they get married after knowing each other for two seconds

Clueless Trades a Turtle:

The fact that Clueless has his own story, man. He deserves this moment

I know Clueless is lazy, but he’s getting tired of taking out his turtle?....IT’S A TURTLE

Me, after reading Clueless is gonna marry his neighbor, Dorothy: Lmao look at Clueless pretending to be straight

“She was the type that’d stand near a ketchup bottle and wait for an earthquake”-BRUH😂😂😂

“Those two turtles disturb our best sleep every morning with their inaudible movements and inconvenient need to eat”-honestly, Dorothy just hates turtles

Oh god no. Animal and Clueless are in the same story....this can’t go well

*after reading that Animal’s clearly gonna eat the turtles and Clueless trades them anyway* OH NO I WAS RIGHT

“Husband, chill”-I dunno why, but I like that phrase. It’s the same as “Honey, calm the f down”

Clueless be turning into Zoot at the end of the story. Fell asleep in seconds

No turtles were harmed in the making of this story.....I hope

Pepe and Polly:

The illustration to this one looks VERY promising....cuz I see three of my fav muppets

Of course Waldorf and Statler are in here. Of course! Who else as the parents in this story

“We’re not eating our kids. This isn’t Game of Thrones...”- *WHEEZE*

Damn Waldorf. You’re so dark

According to Waldorf, Pepe misbehaves like crazy (facts) and Polly is apparently the stupid one (excuse you, Polly’s smart)

Also, since Pepe “gets paddled more than a canoe”, why am I imagining he’d like it?

“I dunno. He kinda grows on you”

“So do warts”

And this is why I love W and S. SAVAGE

I like how Statler has some consious and cares for Pepe and Polly. It’s sweet

Awww. Now I’m picturing Polly giving himself a self-pity hug🥺🥺🥺🥺

Ah, the classic insult. “You failed at raising a Tomagachi, how the hell are you gonna take care of a pet?”

Waldorf, you suck at excuses

“Polly always wanted a cracker”—No kidding, sherlock

OBJECTION! In this story, Polly says he lost his other claw while spinning a wheel on the game show “The Price Is Right”, but in the encyclopedia, Polly lost his other claw in a fight. SO HIS TESTIMONY IS FALSE! (I’ve been watching too much Ace Attorney)

Sam is in here? Okay. Makes sense. He IS a bird

There is a vending machine in the forest.....okay

DEADLY’S IN ANOTHER STORY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WHOOOOHOOO! I mean, he’s the witch, but SCREW IT!

I love how crackers are Polly’s weakness. The minute someone mentions “cracker”, he’s in

“I’m going to have to cook?!?”- Mood

Polly knew Deadly’s British but gumbo (which Deadly’s planning to make using Pepe) is Cajun. See? What a smart boy!

Of course Pepe used the candy cane as his finger (tail) method! Cuz he clever

DEADLY SINGING “Les Poisson” IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER READ!

👏👏👏👏Polly, once again, shows he’s smarter than W and S say he is! Poor Deadly, though

Polly is honestly such a mood in this book

Pretty cool that Sam came back for these two!

Aww, how nice! They’re getting revenge on those geezers by buying their own place and making noise!

Ah, poor Deadly....again. But hey! Nice reference to the other book he was in!

Overall, my favorite story in here! And interesting seeing them as friends when I hc they’re really rivals

#damn long post #the muppets

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waywardodysseys · 5 years ago

Text

Unconditionally - Chapter Four

Warnings: SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), cussing, mention of anxiety

Word count: 5.7+k

Author’s note #1: because everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally

Author’s note #2: I included links for a couple of things and they are linked in the story where appropriate! And this is Valentine’s Day overload!

Unconditionally: Chp. 1, Chp. 2, Chp. 3

~ ~ ~

Over the following weeks the days go by quickly like a runaway freight train. Pedro and you are full steam ahead as you spend the days getting to know each other mentally and emotionally, he and you then spend the nights getting to know each other intimately.

He doesn’t want this feeling to end, he doesn’t want to leave for Brazil – he was to begin shooting a movie. Pedro wants to convince you, needs to convince you to join him in Brazil. Maybe even take a short trip down to Chile and visit his father and younger brothers. He wants them to meet the woman who has become, and is, his forever.

José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal is in love. He is headfirst, head over heels in love with you.

From the moment your hand was inside of his at Kendrick’s birthday he had an inkling of emotions towards you. He wasn’t sure what they were but when you two shared the passionate kiss under the mistletoe six months later he knew, without question, he was in love with you. And he barely even knew you.

Walking along the sidewalk, Pedro glances into a store front. Bouquets of roses and red heart balloons fill the window. It then clicks in his mind; Valentine’s Day is around the corner. His mind begins formulating a plan then he pulls out his cell phone.

He waits till his best friend answers with a rough good morning before saying with excitement, “Oscar!”

“Pedro.”

“I need help!”

“With what?”

“A surprise for Y/N!”

“What kind of surprise?”

“I’d rather explain it in person.”

“Come on over. I’ve got the kids though.”

Pedro shrugs and laughs. “Hey! I’m cool uncle Pepe!”

Oscar laughs, “I’ll get the coffee brewing. See you soon.”

Pedro hangs up his phone and begins walking again. He couldn’t contain the excitement inside of himself with the plan he had come up with.

-------

You sit in your usual spot at the café a couple of blocks from the apartment you share with your old college friend. You were staring at a blank document, trying to find the words for the scene you were working on. You kept hovering your fingers over the keyboard, hoping the words would come but they didn’t.

The scene involved a character from Kendrick’s show. She’s based off you, and then there’s her ex, who is based off Will. You had to write a good, no, a great sending off scene for them both because the final episode was going to introduce a new love interest for the character, who would be based off Pedro.

You take a sip of your lukewarm tea and then hover your fingers over the keyboard again. You had no clue where to start but something came forth and your fingers started moving across the keyboard in a flourish.

You are in your zone when your phone vibrates on the table. You sigh and stop typing. You turn the phone over and recognize the number.

Why the fuck would Evans be calling you?

You swallow and hit accept. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Evans’ loud voice exclaims on the other end. “How are you?”

Dandy. “Good. What do you want?”

Chris laughs, “straight to the point, eh?”

“Move it along Evans. I don’t have all day.” You sigh as you begin bouncing your left leg under the table. Anxiety’s crawling through your body.

You hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I want to direct all six episodes of The House that Built Us.”

What. The. Fuck., you think as your heart races.

“Oh really?” Your voice squeaks out.

“Yes. I do.” Chris pauses. “I want us to get together for dinner. I want to discuss some stuff with you.”

You know he means more than just the show. “Just follow the script Evans. It’s what a director is to do.”

“Come on Y/N. Please. If we are to work on this together, I need to know we are good.”

We’ll never be good, you think.

“Kendrick know you want to direct?” You ask.

“Yes. He said he would call you, but I told him it might be best to hear it from me personally. If you don’t want me to direct, I understand but you do know I’ve wanted to get back into directing,” Chris pauses, his voice is light as he says, “you know this. We were working on a script together. A fantastic script! I know you are still working on the last two episodes, but I want this, I need this!” Chris pauses again. “Please.”

You’re quiet as your eyes dart around the café, then down at your laptop. Your leg’s still bouncing under the table, your heart is racing. If Evans wants this badly then maybe all he wants is to be director of the show. He knows you hate him. He ruined everything, yet he had also freed you from the man, you had slowly begun to realize, you weren’t in love with anymore.

“Dinner?” You ground out. “When?”

Chris smiles, “how about this weekend?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day weekend Chris. I’m busy.”

“Oh, are you with someone?” Disappointment laces Chris’ voice.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You don’t want to tell him who it is because you don’t want Chris to ruin what you and Pedro have. “What about the following weekend?”

“Hold on.” Chris comes back on, “next weekend is fine. I’ll text you a place and time.”

“Good.” Your eyes land on Pedro walking in. Your anxiety is gone instantly. “I have to go Chris. Bye.”

You stand and wrap your arms around Pedro once he approaches the table. You squeeze him tightly and inhale his sandalwood cologne. You’re calm, at ease.

Pedro hugs you tightly back. He then cups your cheek and brushes his soft mouth across yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile, “now that you’re here. Yes.”

-------

“How Pedro handle your history with Evans?” Kendrick asks you the following day at lunch. You two are at your usual spot for your weekly lunch. It’s been a ritual for years, at least when you two are in town at the same time.

You had also told Pedro about Chris calling you. You weren’t going to leave him in the dark about the call or your history with Evans.

“Fine.” You answer.

Kendrick raises his eyebrows. “Spill it Y/N.”

You sip at some water, then sigh. “He thinks Evans wants another shot and I told Pedro that wasn’t going to happen, will never happen because I am with him.”

“Yet you didn’t tell Evans it’s Pedro you’re seeing?”

You glare at Kendrick. “I don’t need the motherfucking asshole to get any ideas Kendrick. Chris doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is I’m in a relationship. I am off limits!”

“Didn’t stop him last time,” Kendrick whispers.

“Yeah well that fucking kiss between us did happen and I should’ve let it happen.” You hold the tears in. “I almost slept with him Kendrick!”

“Yet you told me you were beginning to fall out of love with Will. You felt horrible because part of you was glad it was over because you couldn’t muster the courage, or strength, to tell Will yourself. As I recall, you told me Chris did you a favor, but you would never admit it to anyone else. Not even to Evans himself.”

Your heart cracks inside your chest. Kendrick’s correct.

Kendrick reaches out and grabs your hand. “You are not a horrible person Y/N. Eventually I would’ve kicked your ass and told you to tell Will.” Kendrick grins. “Just do the dinner with Chris, then go and be in Pedro’s arms. You’ll only have a week with him until he leaves for Brazil.”

“I think he wants me to go with him.”

Kendrick raises his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been leaving subtle hints in conversations or little things around my apartment, his apartment.” You smile, “the other day he left an interesting drawing of the Brazilian flag on my fridge. This morning there was a small Christ the Redeemer statue on the table in his kitchen.”

“Has he, like, officially asked you if you’d go?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s asked about my passport. What countries I’m missing, which are a lot. Wants to know if I like ocean views, or city views.”

“Maybe he’s mustering the courage to ask, or maybe he wants you to ask him,” Kendrick shrugs as he finishes his sandwich. “What are you two doing for Valentine’s Day?”

“He won’t tell me. All he said was to keep my afternoon and evening open. And to make sure I am at my apartment all day.” You glance over Kendrick. “You know anything?”

“I do not!” Kendrick laughs and smiles. “For once I have no clue what the man has planned. Though I’m sure the evening will end with you both in bed.”

“Oh, god. Please stop!” You smile and laugh. Your mind running rapid with thoughts as to what Pedro could possibly have planned.

-------

On Valentine’s Day at three o’clock in the afternoon, your doorbell chimes. You walk to the door in your favorite hoodie and pair of sweatpants. You open the door to Kendrick, his boyfriend Jonathan, and a woman you have no idea who is.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” You ask with curiosity.

Jonathan steps forward, “we’re here to get you ready.”

You eye Kendrick. “So, you did know?”

Kendrick shrugs. “It was to be a surprise. I couldn’t say anything!”

Jonathan grabs your hand, dragging you towards your bedroom. “Bring in the racks!”

Minutes later you are sitting in your desk chair looking at dresses. “I can’t make up my mind!”

“Hun,” Jonathan begins, “what do you like?”

“Yes, you.” Kendrick states.

“Don’t think of what Pedro wants, or likes. He already has you. He’ll love whatever you wear because it’s on you,” Jonathan states.

You stand and walk down both racks slowly. The colors of dresses range from sunshine yellow to cherry red, then from sky blue to midnight black. You stop once you see an ombre color dress. It weaves black and what appears magenta together perfectly. You pull it out.

“This one.”

Jonathan takes it from you, “let’s try it on!”

A couple of hours later you are standing in front of mirror, looking at your reflection. Your Y/H/C hair is parted on the left side, light waves roll down the soft locks. Your face is painted with makeup, but not too much. Your Y/E/C eyes pop because of the eyeliner and eyeshadow Jonathan used. The dress you picked fits you perfectly, hugging every curve of your body, it sweeps the floor as you walk. You lift up the material to look at the one-inch heels. Nothing too fancy there either, you didn’t want to fall or trip walking in stilettos.

You smooth out the material as Kendrick walks up behind you.

“Lovely as ever Y/N.” Kendrick notes.

You turn and smile. “Thank you. Now don’t you and Jonathan have a date?”

“We do.” Kendrick hands you a jacket. “Stay warm, be safe both out there and in the bedroom!”

“Kendrick.” You ground out as you take the jacket.

Kendrick kisses your cheek. “Have fun love. Talk tomorrow?”

You nod. “Talk tomorrow.”

Kendrick leaves as you put on your jacket. Minutes later your doorbell chimes for the second time of the day.

You let out a breath and walk towards the front door.

-------

Pedro exits the elevator on your floor. He walks down the hallway and rings the doorbell. Seconds later you open the door, standing there looking beautiful and radiant. He knows you are beautiful without the makeup, without the fancy dress.

He steps forward and captures your mouth with his. Drinking you in, becoming intoxicated with you, only you. He pulls you up against him and never wants to let go.

Pedro pulls faintly away from your lips. “Hermosa, mi querida.” His voice is light and enriched with desire, and love.

You smile at his words. You had seen what he was wearing before he pulled you into his arms. “You should wear a tux more often. It suits you.” You add with a laugh.

Pedro grins as he palms your cheek. He loves you. He is in love with you. “Ready?”

“As ever.”

Pedro grabs your hand as you close your apartment door. He pulls you onto the elevator then you exit into the lobby once the elevator opens to the main floor of your apartment building. He pulls you out into a N.Y.C. winter evening, towards the curb where a black town car is waiting for you.

The driver nods his head and opens the back-passenger door for you. Pedro lets you get in first then he settles in beside you before pulling you into his arms once again.

The driver gets in the car and pulls away from the curb.

“Where are we going Pedro?” You whisper resting your head on his chest above his heart.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Not even a hint? Or clue?”

Pedro kisses your temple. “No clues Y/N.”

You sigh and rest against Pedro. You close your eyes and take in his warmth, take in the smell of his sandalwood cologne. You’d recognize the scent anywhere and you know you’d think of Pedro. You listen to his steady heartbeat.

Pedro keeps his eyes on the buildings and once the car approaches the destination, he pulls out a blindfold from his tux.

“Don’t open your eyes mi querida.”

You swallow. “Okay.”

Pedro places the blindfold over your head, making sure it covers your eyes.

Your heart faintly quickens as you hear the car door open. You feel cold as Pedro removes himself from the car.

“Grab my hand,” Pedro whispers as he runs his hand down your arm.

You find and grasp it tightly as you scoot out of the car and into the cold air.

Pedro pulls you up against him as he begins walking.

“Where are we?” You whisper.

“You’ll see.”

You hear the jingling of keys and you’re inside the warmth of a building within seconds. All you can hear is a fire crackling close by. Your nose is tickled with the smells of roses and lavender, and a hint of vanilla. He pulls you further inside the warmth and the wonderful smells.

Pedro stops, so do you. He takes off your jacket. “Stay here.”

Like you could go anywhere. “Um, okay.”

Soft instrumental music begins softly playing and you hear Pedro walk up to you and grab your face in his hands. He brushes his mouth lightly against yours as his thumbs rub your cheeks.

You place your hands on his hands and brush your thumbs over them.

Pedro pulls back and looks at you. He traces a thumb over your soft lips then he walks around you and pulls you back up against him. His fingers roam over the open back of your dress. Your skin is delicate and warm under his touch.

“Pedro,” you whisper as you feel his front against your back.

“Yes, mi querida?”

You laugh lightly, “you do know I still can’t see?”

Pedro smiles, “yes. I want to take you in before I do the reveal.”

Your mind begins to race, and your heart slightly quickens.

“It’s just us. No one else is here,” Pedro whispers against your ear.

You breathe in and out. “I would hope so Pedro, otherwise I think if I was to move out of your grasp, they’d noticed what you have.”

Pedro laughs. Standing behind you and having his arms wrapped around you has given him a hard on. He’s ready to devour you again and again before the sun comes up in the morning.

“Keep your eyes closed Y/N,” Pedro reaches in front of your face and lifts the blindfold up and over your head.

Your eyes are still closed as Pedro wraps his arms around you.

Pedro places his head next to yours, “open them mi querida.”

You open your eyes. You gasp as you take in the view of the East River and the Manhattan skyline through the floor to ceiling windows. The city looks peaceful and spectacular from where you are standing.

You then sweep your eyes around the room you are standing in.

Several blankets make one large rug on the hardwood floor you are standing on. You notice a basket in the middle of the floor. Two champagne flutes accent the basket along with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne.

You smile as you take in rose pedals strewn around on the floor and the candles creating a path towards the picnic basket.

“This is lovely Pedro,” you whisper.

“You deserve this mi querida,” Pedro whispers back.

You wonder who’s place this is. “Don’t tell me you’ve kicked someone out for the night.”

Pedro laughs as he holds you close. “No. They are elsewhere in the world tonight. Oscar knew of this place, knows the owners.”

You wonder who would want to miss out on this view every night. The Manhattan skyline, the East River, the Brooklyn Bridge. Then with the added effort Pedro put into this place – the romanticism, the candlelight, the music, the picnic, the love.

Every aspect of this evening is perfection, and you know there’s more to come.

You sigh happily as you rest your head back against Pedro, searing this view into memory and all the intricate details as well. In all your years alive this is the first Valentine’s Day you want to remember for eternity.

-------

After eating the picnic dinner and toasting to one another with the champagne, you sit in between Pedro’s legs on the blankets. Pedro’s arms are wrapped around you and as you rest against him.

“This is wonderful,” you sigh contently. “Thank you for this. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Pedro tilts your head and brushes his mouth against yours. He presses his forehead against yours as he cups your cheek.

“I love you Y/N.”

Your heart quickens.

Pedro continues, “all I want is you, all I need is you. Mi amor.”

You watch him lift a blanket and pull out a Tiffany Blue box.

This better not be, you think as your mind flashes with pictures of engagement rings.

You weren’t ready for this again. You and Pedro weren’t ready to take this gigantic leap. You look at him. Could he though?

Pedro holds the box in his hands. “Open it.”

“Pedro,” your voice squeaks, “if this is a ring—”

Pedro presses his lips against your temple. “It’s not but now…”

“Pedro please don’t joke.”

He smiles, “open it.”

You take the box from his hands and place it in your lap. You untie the silk white bow and take off the lid. You turn the box over and out slides a black velvet box.

“Pedro,” you whisper as you open the black velvet box.

Inside is a heart shaped pendant with an olive branch design in sterling silver on a same color chain.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper as you touch the necklace.

Pedro grabs the piece of jewelry gently, taking it out of its home and unhooks it. He brings it around your neck – its new and forever home.

“I saw this and knew I had to give it to you,” Pedro whispers as he clasps the chain together and kisses the side of your neck. “Olive branch signifies peace and abundance. You’ve told me I am your calm, your peace. My love for you will always be bountiful.”

Your fingers reach for the necklace. You touch it lightly as Pedro stands up.

He holds his hand out for you and wiggles his fingers.

You look up at him and smile.

Once on your feet, Pedro pulls you into his arms and the tune over the speakers becomes familiar to your ears.

The piano and cello complimenting one another as they make a lovely sound.

Pedro begins singing along with the music, “wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Your heart melts instantaneously. You know in this precise moment you are in love with this man.

“Would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you,” Pedro continues to sing.

This is the song Pedro asked you to dance to at Kendrick’s Christmas party. It was the same one he had the pianist play on your first date.

“Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be,” Pedro grabs your hand and places it over his heart, “so take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Tears spring to your eyes. Yes, you are in love. Your heart is calm, you are at peace. You reach up and touch his cheek.

“Some things are meant to be,” you sing in a weak voice.

Pedro smiles at you.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you,” you sing to him.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,” Pedro and you sing in unison.

When the music ends, you look at Pedro and touch his cheek, “I love you Pedro.”

“I love you Y/N,” Pedro whispers before crushing his mouth against yours, kissing you feverishly.

Pedro’s heart soars inside of his chest. He has found the one. You.

He knew you were the answer when he first laid his coffee colored eyes on your all those months ago.

Pedro runs his hands down the open back of your dress. His fingers find the zipper and they begin to move it slowly down. Pedro moves his fingers up and pulls down the straps of your dress, which fall freely down your arms.

Pedro faintly pulls away as his fingers run along the collar of your dress. He pulls down the material, pushes it slowly down your chest, revealing you have no bra on.

Pedro moans as he leans down and nuzzles your neck.

You suck in a breath as your fingers reach up and move through his soft hair. His feather light touches are driving you insane. You’re already on fire and he’s adding to the flame.

“Pedro,” you moan.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as his fingers reach up and touch the necklace he placed around your neck minutes before, “this is the only thing I want you to wear tonight when I claim you.”

You nod as your hands move up his chest, your fingers touch his bowtie. You reach under the collar of his shirt and unhook it, tossing it to the floor. You begin to slowly unbutton the white button-top he’s wearing.

Pedro keeps you pulled close to him. His fingers running up and down your back as your fingers finally unbutton the last button. Pedro sucks in a breath as your hands travel up his soft stomach and over his chest.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as he kisses your temple.

Your hands reach his shoulders. You push the jacket and top off Pedro’s body together. Your hands return to his shoulders and you let your fingers drum against his skin lightly down to the base of his neck. You move your fingers up his long neck and along his jawline.

Pedro pushes your dress further down your body. The dress falls slowly to the floor, pooling around your feet.

His fingers run down your chest, through the valley between your breasts and down your stomach. They trace the waistband of your panties. Pedro palms your core.

“Pedro,” you let out in a soft gasping moan.

Pedro pulls you up against him and runs a hand down your back and over your ass. You are his now and forever.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers against your ear. “Eres mia, mi amor.”

You smile as you rest your head against his chest. “Eres mio Pedro.”

You and Pedro stand wrapped in one another for a few minutes before you move your hands down his back. Your own fingers trace the waistband of his pants. They unbutton and unzip the material with ease.

Pedro hisses as your hand reaches in and begins stroking his cock.

You moan as you feel his cock harden at your touch.

You use your free hand to push down his clothing. Once his pants are around his hips, you kiss Pedro at the base of his neck then move your mouth down his chest and stomach.

You settle comfortably on your knees as you use your tongue to lick up and down his length then swirl your tongue around the tip.

“Yes,” Pedro grounds out as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You engulf his cock slowly into your mouth, inch by inch. You use your tongue to swirl around the girth of his cock. You moan as it hits the back of your throat.

“Oh—mmm,” Pedro moans as he feels your hand reach up and cup his balls.

His hands try to hold your head steady as you begin moving up and down his cock. Pedro’s orgasm is rising inside of him as he tilts his head back, savoring the way your mouth feels on him.

“Fu—Y/N—mmm—oh—yes,” Pedro pants out as you continue lathering his cock with your saliva.

You move your head up his length and your tongue swirls around the tip fast then slowly.

“I—mmm—let me—mmm—return the favor,” Pedro moans as he places a hand under your chin, making you look up at him.

You release his cock from your mouth, staying on your knees. You move back on the blankets, lying down on them. You kick off your shoes as you watch Pedro push his pants and underwear down.

Pedro kicks his shoes off as he takes in your naked body on the floor.

Mine, is all he thinks as he takes in your glowing skin, your steady pulse at the base of your neck. The necklace laying on your upper chest.

Pedro moves your dress out of the way as he kneels between your open legs. He kisses his way up your stomach, moving his mouth between the valley of your breasts. He flicks one nipple with his tongue, then the other.

He moves up your chest and kisses you along the base of your neck. He reaches up and cups your cheek as he brushes his mouth against yours.

You smile as you pull faintly away. You reach up and trace his mouth with your fingers.

Mine, is all you think as you look deeply into his coffee colored eyes.

You two stare into each other’s eyes. The moment is intimate. Both of you smile as you both know you love one another. All there is in this moment, and for the rest of your days, is each other and the love you have for one another.

You move your fingers along his cheeks and jawline. You reach up and weave them through his hair. You will never tire of him. Never.

Pedro captures your mouth as he smiles. He sees the love in your eyes. He sees the woman he fell in love, the woman he loves.

He roams a hand down your body and palms your core. He moans as he finds you hot and wet. Pedro slips in a finger, glides a finger over your clit.

“Pedro,” you moan as his finger touches your sensitive nub.

Pedro kisses his way back down your body. He moves his mouth over your skin, making sure he glides his cheeks over your skin as well so you can feel more pleasure from the light fuzz on them.

You suck in a breath as your fingers remain threaded in his hair as he moves his mouth further down your body.

Pedro slides his fingers over your folds as he places his head against one of your inner thighs. He looks up at you and you already have your eyes on him.

Pedro grazes his cheek against your inner thigh before he dips his head and begins circling your clit with his tongue.

Your toes instantly curl at the contact and you moan out, “Pedro.”

Your body’s been in overdrive since Pedro told you he loved you. His kisses, his touches along with him gliding his fuzzy hair jawline and cheeks across your flesh has set your pleasure sensors off. They were craving more; you were craving more. You craved him above everything, and everyone else.

Your orgasm crests inside of you as Pedro’s tongue moves against your clit. The pleasure inside of you is at maximum speed and you know it’s only a matter of minutes.

“Ped—Pedro,” you moan as you release one hand from the blankets and weave them through his hair.

You moan loudly as your orgasm crashes throughout you. Your toes curl again, and your hands clasp the blanket as Pedro lightly flicks your clit as the aftershocks of your orgasm make your body tremble.

“Pedro,” you pant as you feel him kiss both of your inner thighs before moving back up your body.

“Y/N,” Pedro whispers as mouth moves across your skin slowly. He wants to savor the aftershocks of the orgasm he gave you rolling through your body.

You reach up and run your fingers through his chestnut brown hair as you catch your breath. Your eyes locked onto his as he moves his mouth up your chest through the valley between your breasts.

Pedro grabs one of your hands and brings your wrist to his lips.

You moan at feeling his mustache tickle your skin.

“Mi amor,” Pedro whispers as he looks into your Y/E/C eyes.

“My love,” you smile at him.

You and Pedro drink in one another.

Your hands travel up his stomach and chest then around to his back. Your fingers moving lightly across his warm flesh.

Pedro sucks in a breath as he leans down and nuzzles your neck.

You pull him close to your body then bring his mouth to yours, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips. You take the advantage to push him onto his back.

Pedro moans as you pull away and straddled him.

He reaches up with a hand. Strokes your cheek, moves his fingers down your neck. He touches the necklace then moves his hand down your chest and over your stomach.

“Hermosa Y/N,” Pedro whispers.

You blush as you lean down and nip at his neck, “and I’m all yours Pedro.”

Pedro places his hands on your hips and squeezes gently, “yes you are.”

You smile as you reach back and find his hard cock. You keep your hand at the base as you rise your hips then slowly sink your pussy onto his length.

“Y/N,” Pedro hisses at finally being inside of your slick canal.

You moan loudly as you begin rolling your hips once you feel Pedro’s cock entirely inside of you. You close your eyes as you move your hands up and down his chest and stomach.

Pedro begins thrusting up into you, meeting the rolling of your hips, matching your rhythm as his orgasm rises inside of him. His hands remain on your hips as he takes you in with his eyes.

He burns this moment to his mind. Your beautifully naked body riding him as the necklace he gave you glimmers in the candlelight. Your Y/H/C hair falling around your face as you tilt your head back and bite your lip as his cock inside of your depths gives you pleasure.

He has burned the whole night into his mind. He doesn’t ever want to forget this night, doesn’t ever want to forget the moment when you uttered ‘I love you’ to him. He doesn’t want to forget how much he loves you, doesn’t want you to forget he loves you as much as you love him – possibly more.

Pedro knows if things were to fizzle out, or if hell decided to come for you in any form, he’d battle whoever and whatever to get you back, to get you to stay. He had dived deep, like you had, into the deepest ravine and knew there was no chance of ever escaping.

“Pedro,” you moan as your fingers tighten against Pedro’s chest because another orgasm is cresting inside of you rapidly.

“Y/N,” Pedro moans as his fingers tighten on your hips.

You open your eyes and look down at him. You roll your hips and moan loudly as your second orgasm jumps off the cliff it had approached.

“Fu—,” you can’t complete the word as your orgasm makes your body tremble.

Pedro sits up and gathers you in his arms as he thrusts up into you and explodes, emptying himself inside of you.

You’re breathless as you loop your arms around Pedro’s neck and lean down to nuzzle his neck. You feel your pussy clench around his cock as he cums inside of you.

“Y/N,” Pedro pants as he brushes some of your hair aside and nips at your neck.

Your emotions are high. Your pleasure is high.

Pedro Pascal is your drug. You never want to come down from the highs he’s given, will continue to give.

Pedro wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. He lies back against the blankets and holds you in his arms. His fingers travel down your back then up into your hair.

“There’s nobody like you Pedro. Will never be nobody but you,” you whisper against his neck.

“You are my one Y/N. My one and only. There is nobody but you.” Pedro whispers.

You move to your side, keeping your head in the crook of his neck. Your hand travels down his chest as Pedro grabs a free blanket and covers you both.

Pedro turns his head and looks at you. “Will you come to Brazil with me?”

You smile, knowing this was the one true question he wanted to ask you tonight. You know you can go; you want to go.

You brush your lips against his, whispering, “yes.”

Unconditionally Tags: @holyground1996, @bonkybaaarnes, @blushingwueen, @dindjarinshelmet, @stand-on-your-feet

Pedro Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @jokersdoll, @knight-of-heart44, @mandadl0rian, @cosmo-bear, @caitlincat-95, @random066, @longitud-de-onda, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @earl-01

#unconditionally chapter 4 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #mutlichapter #unconditionally #smut #when you meet your soul mate everything is calm #romance #valentine's day #pedro pascal hopeless romantic

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rkshion · 4 years ago

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200630 [V-LIVE]: Shion’s Roof ⭐⭐ (Audio Only)

it's the last day of the month, and it's already been three months since their debut. a bit wild to think about. considering how long the road had been up there, maybe three months is not too much. considering he's now an idol in the eyes of the public, any little bit of time feels like a lot to im. he's unsure why he hadn't tried one of these before. the idea of doing it by himself got him a bit nervous, but he also didn't want to bother his other members to do something together.

he has fans now, though, it seems. again, wild to think about. he's not the most active in social media, but he'd still like to keep in touch with them. he's seen other idols name their lives something unique and special so jihoon's certain he wants to do something like that too. it takes some brainstorming to finally decide on something, but soon he starts the first edition of "shion's roof."

the boy had adjusted the settings for the live to be audio-only. this means he could lay down on his bed without having to worry about how he looks and what those watching could see around him. it'd also help take away some of the nervousness of someone who hadn't done one of these before. "hello~" he greets the first few people to join him. it'd be awkward if no one showed up, but it brings a smile to his face when the number starts going up. "wow, it's everyone here? there's a lot of you already." jihoon keeps repeating 'hello's during the first minute so that everybody can get some time to settle in.

"welcome to shion's roof! it's the first edition... isn't it special?" his eyes try to keep up with the comments, but he guesses that fast reading is a skill he'll need to work on starting today. "you're all here with me! on our first day... this is... our first day?" he chuckles. he's seen people say that before. it's usually used for a couple's first day, so the boy can't help but feel a little awkward about it. "everyone! don't get any wrong ideas!"

💬: are you in a roof right now??

"eh?? i'm in my room right now. the roof is... is metaphorical. it's our roof." while jihoon tries to explain himself, his hands start to move, even if no one can see him. "i wanted to have a cool title. other idols do that too, right? i wanted to take everyone to somewhere sunny. our roof is filled with flowers, okay? flowers and other plants. and it's always sunny... unless we don't want it to be. rain can be nice sometimes too, right? the plants would like that. i personally prefer sunny days."

💬: who are your roommates?

"my roommates are sinjae hyung and reno hyung. i'm the room maknae." he chuckles. "de:code rooms are separated by age. there is the hyung room and the maknae room. everyone, i'm not the maknae, okay! our a.c is our youngest member. the ace..." he takes a short break. "i'm alone in my room right now. i don't know what the other ones are doing. i told them i was doing a v-live before starting."

💬: what did you do today?

"ah, you want tmi?" he asks back as if he's actually into popular trends and whatnot. "i practiced all day long! with the other members... i'm working hard! to become a better shion and make you proud."

💬: were you practicing for comeback?

jihoon laughs. "no! i was practicing for something else..." he lets it hang in the air for a bit. "i don't know if i can share, i'm sorry! some of the other members and i are preparing something. you'll see it soon! it's not that secretive. you'll know when it comes out!"

💬: when is the comeback?

"i don't know!" he answers honestly. "i wasn't practicing for the comeback. i was practicing for something else." jihoon feels bad lying, but he knows that some things need to be kept a secret. he's also unsure if whatever he's said so far is enough to conclude anything. the fans are quick to come up with their own assumptions, though.

💬: is this audio-only to hide a new hair color?

"wow... you guys are really smart!" jihoon gasps, actually impressed. never would he have thought about that from anyone else's live. he touches his hair gently before continuing. "but it isn't true! is that a common thing to do? do people hide their hair colors with audio v-lives? i never thought of that..." he pauses. "that's really smart, thank you! i'll remember that for when i need!" he chuckles sheepily.

💬: are you doing station? / solo debut? / when is the comeback?

"wow, everyone... it's nothing like that! let's talk about something else, okay?" jihoon turns around on his bed and lays down on his stomach. "it's the last day of the month today! did everyone achieve a lot? i think i learned a lot of things... i've been working hard... i really want to get better!" his eyes keep following the comments. "it's okay if it takes some time, everyone! you can't become a master in a few days. as long as you worked hard, i'm proud of you! let's all work hard, okay? i want you all to achieve your dreams!"

💬: i'm learning korean

"ah, really? your korean is really good!" jihoon puts the phone down to clap his hand a few times. "keep working hard, okay? next time, write me a letter on fancafe! and then next time, we can have a full conversation. face to face! i can't wait to meet everyone again. i want to get up on stage. it'll come soon, right? are you waiting for it too? all the other members are working hard, too. since before debut, we're all working hard."

💬: can you sing your english line from 'what time is it now?'

"sincerely... i don't speak english very well." he laughs wholeheartedly. "did i sound good? did i do well?" jihoon pauses, considers it, then proceeds to try speaking a few words in english. "hello... i'm fine, thank you and you?" he chuckles. "was that good? do i speak it well? please let me know..."

💬: do you have song recommendations?

"mm..." he stops to think about it. "a recent song that came out... 'god's menu' is really good, isn't it? the rap is really impressive... and of course, our sunbaes, luxe, released 'up & down'! did you listen to it well? it got really popular, right? please show it a lot of love, too! they're really talented sunbaes." jihoon stops a moment to think about it more. "and*roma’s meiqi sunbaenim danced to our song, right? i saw it. she's really good! i like 'pepe' too... since it's summertime, shouldn't you listen to 'very nice'? or 'me gustas tu'? those are popular songs too, right? 'very nice' makes me want to have ice cream."

💬: are you close with any sunbaes?

"i don't know the luxe members too well... cheri sunbaenim is really nice, though! luxe's leader! this was some time ago, but she gave me lunch once. it was really good! i don't know many other idols... ah, but i know junju! per_se's junju! he's younger than me but we went to the same school. he's a good kid! i think he's really funny." he chuckles. "he was... a good student." he laughs a bit too honestly. junju was, actually, not a very good student at all, but he had promised not to share that fact.

💬: what will you have for dinner?

"that's a good question! i'm not really sure... we have members who like to cook, but sometimes we just order. we're a lot of people." he can't help but laugh again. "do you have any recommendations? ah, pizza?" jihoon reads surprised. "that's not very healthy!"

💬: i can cook for you!

"will you, really? but how will i get the food?" he chuckles. "should we have a picnic on our roof? we can all just bring whatever we want to eat... even pizza..." jihoon sits up straight and checks the time. now that they had mentioned it, he was starting to feel hungry. "we can take photos of what we eat and post it online. should we use a hashtag?"

💬: #shionsroofpicnic

"ah, that's perfect, right? should we do that? i'll do it too! make sure to bring something yummy, okay? i want to see it!"

checking the time again, he nods. "should i check with the other members what we'll eat? this means the v-live will end... i promise i'll do this again, okay? ah, and with the camera on! should i turn it on right now just for a quick goodbye?"

after touching the screen a few too many times to make sure he was doing the right thing, the camera turns on for what will be the last minute of the live. "can you see me? can you see my hair?" he makes sure to point it out. "it's still brown, right?" the boy chuckles. "thank you for watching! let's meet on the roof again, okay? this was... our first day." he gives the camera his typical bright smile. "bye bye~!"

#( activity : june 2020 )#rkvlive #( tagged bc mentioned!#jaehyunrk #rklino #rkseonho #rkmeiqi #rkcheri #haknyeonrk

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seance · 4 years ago

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4, 14, 27 xx

Thank you so much for sending these, love! 4. favourite dish specific for your country?

okay so asking an italian to choose between different foods is like asking a mother which child do you love more so i’m gonna go ahead and say i don’t really have a favorite dish but for the sake of this ask i wanna give my honorable mention to spaghetti cacio e pepe (also fun fact, the singular of spaghetti is actually spaghetto) even tho i’m not a big pasta eater. cacio is the roman way to call cheese, so these are basically spaghetti with pecorino cheese and black pepper, simple but delicious ♡ shoutout to my girls lasagna con salsicce e funghi and cotoletta alla milanese too tho!

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

i hated it for years. we’re a country rich in culture but it rarely gets the attention it deserves so all the money always went into producing these cheap ass movies full of sexism and other awful stereotypes. things luckily started to change since the mid 2010s and now i can say i’m glad to see more and more italian actors and actresses and movie directors to hit the international scenes because i think we have much to bring to the table, artistically speaking. as for the tv scene, i haven’t watched it once in the last uh 3 years and i don’t miss it!

27. favourite national celebrity?

this is tricky because i don’t do stan culture. like, i don’t have a favorite celebrity, a favorite actor and not even a favorite singer, even if i have a ton i admire, like Caparezza, one of the best songwriters of our time imo. but i’m i guess i’m always happy to see these guys (Pierfrancesco Favino and Luca Marinelli) doing their thing outside national borders.

#lydias--stiles #replies #text #ask games #italian tag

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diepower · 4 years ago

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Kaiman AGE: 27 CONTACT: IM, ask, discord

CHARACTER(S): Meninas McAllon, Orihime Inoue, Retsu Unohana, Mashiro Kuna, Tier Harribel, Charlotte Chuuhlhourne

CURRENT FANDOM(S): That I write in? It’s gonna be Bleach, OVW (super selectively im just here for one person), ASOIAF (barely- literally when the mood strikes and that one is private also). I have a lot of current interests in general though.

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR: While I don’t have anything fully established... I’ve been working with an ASOIAF au (for Harribel & Unohana specifically, though I’m considering it with other characters too), A Dorohedoro AU (for Unohana and Orihime), as well as a Persona AU (more specifically 2&3) for Orihime. I’ve also got a number of post-canon AUs or continuities for all my characters as well!

MY LANGUAGE(S): English, super basic Spanish, barest ASL, fairly good French

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / SCIENCE FICTION / HORROR / WESTERN / ROMANCE / THRILLER / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / EROTIC / CRIME / MYTHOLOGY / CLASSIC / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / ANCIENT / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / SPORT / MUSIC / SCIENCE / FIGHTS / ANGST / SMUT / DRAMA

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: ONE-LINER / 1 PARA / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA (2para is a sweet spot but it really doesn’t matter to me)

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES / NO ONLY BY MUTUALS?: YES / NO

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / CASUAL NOTHING TOO DEEP / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK.

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?: YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. (i let them build up too often but some of yall are too quick to reply jkglfjdgsd)

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / MONTHS / YEARS / DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / A RELATIVE OF MY CHARACTER (AN OC) / DUPLICATES / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / SELF-INSERTS / PEOPLE WITH NO AU VERSE FOR MY FANDOM / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS (italicized are okay, but under really specific circumstances)

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: I’m pretty anal about plotting in that I often refuse to RP unless it’s been plotted or I liked a starter call. And in the case of the latter, I’ll still hop into DMs to plot further depending on where the thread takes us. That said, the best way to reach me is through IMs or Discord (available on request). The only time I turn down plots is if I feel like it would put my character in an OOC situation, and I especially dislike my character being one-sidedly used as a tool to further another character’s development without anything being reciprocated (this happens often especially wrt my healer characters)

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: Communication is really important to me, especially with regards to comfort regarding certain plot elements, and approaching other in-character situations that might have multiple different solutions. I think it’s important that both characters involved get the same amount of development out of writing a thread, and I really hate the idea of being imbalanced as far as that goes (more on that below). That said, I’m always perfectly down to spitball plot ideas and tweak/refine other concepts because I really do enjoy plotting, it’s just super important to me that things are communicated clearly. I get extremely distressed and frustrated IRL if people just kinda throw stuff at me, and it often kills my muse.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?: I make an active effort to come up with plots that are engaging and beneficial fairly equally to both parties. I mentioned this above, but especially in the case of writing my healer characters, I have a huge disdain for characters being used as tools to further development while getting nothing substantial in return. That said, I try to be very aware of this in terms of a potential writing partner being on the receiving end. IMO it feels like shit, but I definitely don’t want to make someone else feel that way either. That said, so long as stuff is plotted out clearly and me and the writer are both okay with it, then it’s fine. COMMUNICATION IS KEY, BASICALLY.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?: I kinda just like to throw spaghetti at the wall and whatever sticks, I’m down to fly with. I have a lot of ideas, but again, I like to give my partners the option of doing whatever they’re comfortable with, and h aving equal contribution opportunities.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

- AND WHY?: Everyone has their own circumstances, I really don’t mind. If it’s one I’ve been especially looking forward to, I might be bummed, but it’s no skin off my nose really.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: I don’t typically drop threads or abandon them during their writing. The only thing that would make me do so is offensive content, or huge plot elements being introduced that makes my character ooc and wasn’t previously discussed during plotting.

WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

-AND WHY?: I already feel like I need to take a lot of extra steps to understand others and be understood, and that isn’t something often reciprocated. In my experience, just honest communication is the quickest solution to issues that crop up during writing. For those who HAVE actually had me reach out to them in this way, I really do try to be polite and respectful while being straightforward so the situation can be resolved without any hurt feelings.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: As long as it’s constructive, and not merely negativity, I welcome it. After all, I can’t fix a huge flaw in my writing without having an alternative solution. I’m open to accepting feedback and critique, especially wrt Meninas since my portrayal is quite a large departure from popular fanon perception (from those who choose to pay attention to her, lol), but I also thrive on suggested remedies and solutions to issues in my writing.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: I like to tell stories, and I like to tell narratives that take root in emotional expression and how those feelings can act as a vehicle to the storytelling. I want to move people through feeling, because it can be a powerful experience. I use a lot of inspiration from themes in my other favorite series, as well as inspiration from my own personal experiences as well. I tend to pick characters who have one or two traits in common with myself, whether those be negative or positive. I’m very excited to share all the things I have planned for Meninas, as she’s certainly my most ambitious project to date.

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS: For Meninas specifically, I want to interact with Squad 11 and Squad 9 during the CFYOW verse I have planned. Hisagi specifically would be interesting because of the clash of ideals, in addition to being the only other living person to be able to relate to the horror of being under Pepe’s thrall. I’d also like to steal Ikkaku’s bankai, and have more fight scenes. Lastly, Meninas doesn’t do much of anything in CFYOW, so more interactions with Mayuri and Squad 12 would be cool.

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE: I don’t mind briefly referencing darker themes in my writing, especially wrt my own personal experiences, but I want to be very clear that I refuse to write at length or romanticize these themes. I refuse to write anything involving rape, homophobia, transphobia, racism, pedophilia, etc, with this in mind.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: Unless previously discussed, I struggle with starters that have a character pushing mine away. If the situation is super OOC for my character to be in, or frankly too mundane. In Meninas’ case, most domestic stuff is a snoozefest for me (but I LOVE this for other characters).

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?: *saoirse ronan voice* Women. UHHH but no, for real... I like fleshing out female characters quite a bit. Personality types are varied, but I like characters who have some level of nuance to their emotional expression whether it’s an internal or external struggle. I like powerful women too, and the exploration of “strength” as a theme (esp at the intersection of the theme of “femininity” and its expressions) whether this is external strength or internal fortitude. I think I play a wide variety of characters who have vastly different thoughts, beliefs, and forms of expression, but I try to find something in common with who I portray to act as a touch stone. I also like characters who have themes of “justice” and nuanced morality.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?: 99% of male characters. And I also hate tsunderes gjklsdjfd

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I really like my writing style especially wrt using emotion to set a cinematic scene and overall tone. I think I’m really strong with conveying emotion, especially with things that are often unspoken. I try to communicate with partners clearly and establish rapports. I love writing headcanons and have a TON of plot ideas as well.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: Oh I’m the slowest replier on the planet and I’m apparently intimidating lol

DO YOU RP SMUT?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS (i prefer to go into detail about sensations, rather than the actual acts as it comes off stifled and weirdly technical)

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: Honestly I just do what Meninas tells me.

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?: Kink stuff is weird territory for me, absolutely gotta be discussed in private and comfort levels clearly established.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?: YES / NO. Relationships in general rule, and while I do have a romantic ship that plays a large part in Meninas’ plot, the romance comes secondary to the plot itself. I really enjoy writing and developing romances, but more than that I like establishing connections. I love the relationships I’ve got planned with Giselle, Candice, Liltotto, and Bambietta because there are going to be a LOT of drastically different things that inform my portrayal of Meninas coming from these relationships (both positive and negative, but ultimately places of growth).

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. Like I said, plot comes first. And especially in the case of Meninas, she has a lot of self exploration and reflection to do before she can engage in a healthy relationship or address any feelings of romance. I do place a large focus on the formation of her relationships and how they shape the way she relates to other people and grows as a person, but I am extremely sensitive to making sure I’m not writing a female character who’s entire development is dependent on a romance with a male character- perish the thought lol.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU: MULTI-SHIP / SINGLE-SHIP / DUAL-SHIP — MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: For Meninas, it’s a matter of her acknowledging, understanding, and accepting that she can be worth more than how useful she is to others. She had a series of traumatizing and character defining experiences regarding love, romance, and personal worth that strongly shaped the way she perceives her relationships to others and her emotional expression. Trust is another huge factor for me, Meninas needs to be around someone she believes in. Strength is another aspect. She likes someone who challenges her, keeps her on her toes, and is sturdy like physically. Because she’ll break you. THAT SAID- Meninas tends to be open wrt her body, but closed off when it comes to her heart. Hate to see it, love to write it.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. As long as the premise makes sense. I like relationships to have some matter of significance and planning, especially because of how I’ve written the way Meninas picks and chooses who to get close to in Silbern depending on what suits her interests. Genuine friendship is a weird thing for Meninas, as most of her relationships are formed out of convenience. If you aren’t useful to Meninas’ schemeing, then she has no interest in dealing with you beyond platitudes and keeping up appearances and will interact with you as such.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: WE LOVE DUPLICITOUS WOMEN! No, but at the core of my Meninas characterization, the sentiment is “Everything is not as it appears” even down to the relationships she has with others. Meninas’ entire personality is constructed as a survival tactic from an early age (in addition to being a way to make herself more useful as a tool to others, and thus seen as having more worth in general), and as a result, she hasn’t really allowed herself to live life as a fully realized person. Her plots generally offer silent rebellion, playing a role in regards to her self presentation, chaotic mean girl level bullshit, and cool fights/training. Also you get to interact with a big buff lady. That said about her personality, it depends on the verse. CFYOW Meninas will be more unhinged, while post-CFYOW Meninas will be more honest and rowdy.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?: Muses who are standoffish or disengage right at the start. Meninas doesn’t interact with people without a certain purpose, so if they aren’t interested, she’s not going to be either.

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?: Revenge, strength, redefining what “power” means in terms of how the world works. She wants to see the Shinigami dead for their role in her parents deaths, and feels the same about Yhwach.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?: Ability, potential threat, perceived strength, where loyalty lies; how potentially useful you can be to her.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?: Strength both in a physical sense, but also in belief and convictions. Honesty, and understanding the flaws of the world they live in.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?: Fighting, beauty, freedom, abolishing Quincy classism based on blood purity, music, fashion, blacksmithing.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?: Blind loyalty to Yhwach, talking about the horrors of war as if it doesn’t concern them, Bambietta, Quincy supremacy,

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?: Her parents were killed in the first Quincy war and she was left abandoned and grew up literally fighting for her life and living on the streets. She often likens fighting pits to the bowels of Hell (and I often play with the ironic theme of crawling out of hell to appear as an angel or something divine). She is consumed by a quest for revenge, and strongly believes her ends will justify the means taken to fulfill her ideal. As a direct result of these experiences, her emotional health and maturity is severely affected, and she doesn’t view herself as a person worthy or capable of feeling as much as a tool who, in the right hands, can be utilized to bring about the revenge she craves.

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?: (1) Men who feel non-consensually entitled to her body. That said, she’s done a fairly excellent job at maintaining control and an unassuming threatening nature despite the widely known understanding of her Schrift ability and how it augments. (2) Someone touching her Quincy cross, as it’s her most precious and private item. (3) Anyone who dares get in the way of her plans that can’t be manipulated in some other useful aspect.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?: Meninas hates Yhwach, and the Shinigami most predominately, but she also harbors disgust for Hollows as an instinct. That said, her young life was spent detached from Quincy culture (in addition to being a Gemischt and the inherent isolation that comes with that status), so despite her early induction into the Wandenreich ranks, Meninas does not harbor the same Quincy nationalism and loyalty that others of her race do. They’re a means to an end, and just happen to help her become stronger.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: She comes off as easy to approach, but if you want genuine Meninas I’m sorry the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye!

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: Everything I’ve written about her is based in headcanon! I’ve got both a lengthy biography as well as headcanons gathered in the sidebar links on my blog.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

TAGGED BY: @bazzardburner TAGGING: i think this has made its rounds so steal it!

#MEME / ANSWERED #HANDS OF THE DIVINE ; A SELF MADE CREATION / HEADCANON #ok take 2 dont delete all my bolded shit pls

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