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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months ago

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For the Love of Dogs - An Alfie & Beth Solomons One Shot Story.

I think writing that long overdue check in with these two made me realise how bloody much I'd missed them, besties. Here, another installment in their story. I do hope I will have more ideas for further stories to follow :)

Words - 7,890

Warnings - Mention of death, but lots of fluff!

She entered the house on complete, brain disengaged autopilot, her outstretched finger finding the keypad to the alarm system, punching the code in and then simply standing in the welcome hall, a home much, much too quiet for her liking. The heaviness of it squeezed her heart, sniffing hard, rubbing her thumb over the soft leather of his collar. A collar now redundant.

Her beloved Cyril. Their beloved Cyril.

“Come ‘ere, darlin’.” Beth wouldn’t have been able to get through it, the last goodbye with their faithful family dog, without her husband at her side. Sinking into the comforting bulk of Alfie’s embrace, she wept against his chest, hearing him sniffing back further tears of his own. He hadn’t been afraid to cry as they’d both sat out on the grass behind the veterinary surgery, Cyril wrapped in soft blankets in a dog bed provided by the staff, the birds tweeting as they’d told him how he was loved, how much of a good boy he was.

The gargantuan mastiff had taken his last breaths feeling warm, calm and safe, his mum and dad right there with him. Thirteen years had come to a peaceful end as loving hands stroked his soft fur, leaving a hole behind in the lives of his family that far eclipsed his own huge size.

“If it’s anything to you, thirteen is simply unheard of for a Bullmastiff to reach. You both cared for him exceptionally well, truly.” the kind vet had offered sympathetically. She’d also been the one to suggest they put him to sleep outside, a practice that they’d had to develop over the Covid-19 lockdown, and one she now offered as a much nicer alternative to pets being euthanised upon a table, in a room so many of them felt anxiety towards.

The children were with their auntie Magda, their parents feeling it best they didn’t attend. It was heartbreaking enough for them as two adults; it would have been much too upsetting for the little ones to witness. Abe and Flora had said their goodbyes to him earlier that morning, sitting with him in their pyjamas, Beth calling the school and explaining they would not be attending on account of the event that afternoon, explaining she felt they would be too upset and distracted to concentrate in class. Luckily, the secretary had been understanding.

Instead, Magda had booked a day off work and taken them out to keep their minds off it, Thorpe Park being her chosen destination for them to visit. “Ain’t no bother at all, sweet. I could do having a day with me kids, unwind a bit. Poor little mites. Don’t you worry at all, and I don’t want no money, either. I’m treating them, whatever they want, they get.” Beth had been eternally grateful to her children’s godmother for her kind assistance.

Venturing into the house, Alfie pulled her wine bottle from the rack when they reached the kitchen, pouring out two glasses. He seldom drank, but felt like he needed something in that moment. His heart was truly broken, to be without the loving dog he’d had in his life for so long. Watching girlfriends come and go, his business empire going from strength to strength, meeting the woman who would eventually become his wife, adding children to their family, it had all been with Cyril by his side.

His loss was profound, sitting down at the island, passing a glass to Beth. “To the best bloody dog who ever was, baby beast.” They chinked glasses, smiling sadly as they remembered Cyril fondly. Their first child, as they always called him. Beth still hadn’t released her grip upon his collar, and for the rest of the afternoon she held onto it, thumb still stroking the leather.

“Would it be wrong of me if I decided to blow off my article and get pissed out of my face?”

Alfie’s smile tilted his lips, reaching to stroke her face. “Nah, treacle. Did Mags say she was taking the nippers for dinner an’ all while they’re out?”

“Yeah, she just texted me, actually. They’re currently at TGI Friday’s awaiting a plethora of their favourite foods.” She smiled at the thought, knowing how Magda loved it there just as much as the kids. “I don’t feel much like cooking for you and I, though.”

“Ain’t no bother to me, darlin’. I was gonna suggest we order from that new Italian place we like. I ain’t much in the mood for eating, but a bit later I could probably see off a piece of that lasagne they do. Tell you what, why don’t you go for a nice, long soak in the bath. I’ve got a few calls I need to make anyway.”

She took him up on his suggestion, kissing him before sliding from her seat, placing a kiss upon the collar still in her hand, too, before putting it up on one of the shelves behind the breakfast nook. She’d get to putting away all of Cyril’s other belongings at some point, but couldn’t face it right then. His bed they’d had to throw away that morning, the dog having an unfortunate bladder accident upon it. It had sealed to them that they were doing the right thing in putting him to sleep.

His toys remained, Beth looking at them mournfully where they sat in the basket for that storage purpose, deciding to move them to a place the kids wouldn’t see upon their return. Picking up his plush frog, she couldn’t resist sniffing it, smelling his lovely fur upon it, her eyes filling with tears all over again. They had decided to have him cremated, the vet advising that his ashes should be back within the next ten days. She knew she’d be in floods all over again then, too.

Trudging up the stairs, she felt weary with grief, knowing that she had to brighten by the time the children got back, for their sakes. She was expecting them to be upset, returning to a house without Cyril in it, although Magda had stated during various text check ins throughout the day that they seemed to be taking it well. Thorpe Park had proven to be a good distraction, it seemed.

While the bath ran, she tidied up her little office area, smiling as always when her eye was caught by the framed article from The Times, her very first being published within the newspaper. It had been a gift from Alfie upon her moving in with him. She could scarcely believe it had been ten years since her move into St Mark’s House. It sometimes still felt like ten weeks ago.

The smell of her Jo Malone bath oil caught her nose as she shuffled the last stack of papers, the notes of English pear and freesia crisp in their aroma, Beth stripping off her white shirt and jeans, placing them into the laundry hamper. “Need to get a load of laundry done.” she noted to herself, seeing the basket just over half full. It could wait.

The hot water provided a nice, comforting surround of relaxation, her eyes flitting over to the wall by the stained-glass windows, once again viewing her paint swatch choices. She tired of white, wanting something a little different for the space. So far, the smoky blue was a definite front runner, but she also did favour the deep, mustard yellow, almost a dark gold in hue. Hmm. She’d live with the dashes of paint a little longer before deciding. The pink which Flora has suggested was a definite no.

Once done, she got out, dressing in her favourite, comfortable loungewear set, heading back downstairs. The doorbell sounded just as she was about to head to the kitchen, her path swerved back out towards the front door.

“She fell asleep about half an hour away,” Magda whispered, passing a sleeping Flora into her mother’s arms, kissing her cheek. She turned, giving her to a suddenly present Alfie, her husband stating that he would see to putting them straight to bed since Abe also looked shattered. “Got bellies full of pizza and chicken wings, they have. Had a right ole’ feast, we did. I swear, I reckon I’ve put on a bleedin’ stone and I only had the Jack Daniel’s chicken!” She then paused, reaching for Beth’s face, her thumb skimming the apple. “Bloody horrid, ain’t it? Coming back to a house without ‘em in it.”

Of course, Magda understood the pain only too well, losing her beloved Claus only five months before to cancer. Luckily for her and Dennis, at least they still had Marley and Karma. She nipped that little slither of envy immediately, though. “It is, mate. It really is.”

“Well, I know it ain’t much, but I got you a little something.” Reaching into her gorgeous Fendi tote, Magda pulled out a bottle of her favourite Casamigos tequila, handing it over with a smile.

“Awww babe, love you,” Beth cooed, giving her a kiss.

“Love you too, sweet. Open it up, get nice an’ sloshed, and thank me later. Right, I better get moving, gotta go feed his highness and walk the pups.”

“Thanks again for taking them today, Mags. You made a hard situation just that little bit easier,” she spoke fondly, Magda waving her hand.

“I had a right good time with them, babe. Always do.” Beth waved to her from the door as she drove away, thinking herself so very lucky. A little while later, the doorbell trilled again, Alfie answering it that time. The cause was in his arms as he entered the lounge, handing her a gigantic bouquet of beautiful flowers.

“Whoever sent these fuckin’ mugged off half the Chelsea flower show, bloody ‘ell!” he exclaimed as his wife took the blooms, pulling the card from the top.

“Sending all our love to you, Alfie and the babies. We loved darling Cyril so much, too. Lots of love from Mimi and Kinga xxx”

Her heart was beyond touched at the generosity of her girls, getting together like that for her to gift something so lovely in her grief. They understood, though, how dogs truly were family. Those surprises didn’t stop coming in the wake of Cyril’s passing either, Beth’s breakfast with her dear Oliver a few days later yielding another beautiful surprise.

“I hope you don’t get upset, darling, but Brett and I wanted to do something nice in his memory, so this is for you.” He passed the brown paper Habitat bag across the table, Beth pulling out a well wrapped, rectangular shaped gift from within. Tearing open the chic wrapping paper, her throat pinched with emotion, seeing a beautiful black and white photograph of Cyril that Oliver’s husband had taken of him the previous summer, lying outside on the patio, looking so regal in the fading evening light. “Brett says he was the most photogenic dog he’s ever met, and I quite believe that to be true.”

She couldn’t speak for a few moments, sniffing hard, flapping her hand as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love you both so much,” she eventually managed, placing the framed picture down and exiting her seat to give him a huge hug.

“And we love you too, baby. He was a splendid chap, old Cyril. Remember how scared of him I used to be, back when I first visited you at home? And then by the end of that night, he was sitting next to me on the sofa, resting his massive head on my shoulder?” His fond words sparked the memory, Cyril indeed taking to Oliver very much.

She nodded, taking her seat again. “I do, yes. Gosh, it was so long ago. I remember when he first met Brett too...”

“And humped the hell out of his leg!” Oliver finished, clapping his hands together with mirth. What he shouted, too! “Oh, my Jesus, he’s going to give me ligament damage! Queen down! Queen down!” Her emotional wobble was forgotten as she burst into hysterics, remembering Brett literally knocked to the floor while she’d wheezed, Oliver in tears, Alfie having to detach a rampant Cyril from the object of his affections. To Brett he had been known primarily as big gay dog ever since.

They shared a few memories of him before their conversation moved on, both discussing work, Beth enthralled by his tales from New York Fashion Week, from where he had not long returned. He’d also brought with him another gift he alerted her to in the bag, some of her favourite American sweeties, two big bags of Milk Duds present when she looked again. How well he knew her.

After breakfast, she had work commitments to attend, calling in at London Life and Style to discuss an article she’d submitted, her little sheen dented by the fact that the viper, also known as Madeline Arlington-Smith, had dissected it thoroughly.

“I feel that if we leave this part out, this part too, it shall be more in accordance with the overall opinion and not merely a fanciful display of the world according to Beth Solomons.”

She remembered back to being much more novice in her journalistic endeavours, seated in that very chair ten years before, taking the heat for an article Madeline had thoroughly given the bloodletting treatment to. It has preceded her first meet with her now husband, seeking refuge and Cabernet Sauvignon in a bar that belonged to him. “Then why on earth ask me to write the article, Madeline, if not from my own perspective?”

“Because you are commenting on the zeitgeist from the perspective of your peers, not simply you, you, you. How does the subject make women of your age feel, what emotions does it drive, how does it affect you all on a whole? I would like a little more of that. We go to print in two weeks. Please have your corrections submitted within the next seven days.”

The viper was not aware of it, but she narrowly avoided an outburst, Beth physically biting her tongue as she rose from her seat. “I will make sure of that.” Striding from the office, she felt her chest thickening, nodding and smiling at a few of the staffers as she passed them by on the way to the elevator. She knew it was because she was still raw over Cyril, she knew that, not being able to take her critique on the chin with her usual good nature. When she arrived home, though, she succumbed slightly.

“That bloody bitch effing bloody woman!”

Alfie raised his eyebrows, looking at her as he clicked a pen against his teeth. “Madeline’s well then, yeah?”

“She’s right on bloody form, she is! Oy!”

He chuckled at his wife’s continued exasperation, making a motion for her to take a seat on his lap. Welcoming her into his arms, he kissed her head, rubbing her back where she was tense. “How about I take you out for lunch, ay? Somewhere fancy, then we’ll go pick up the babies from school? I know you’re still heartbroken over Cyril, and as such you ain’t takin’ whatever the fuck the cobra woman told you...”

“Viper,” she interjected with.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever the fuck they call her, she’s still a bloody snake, innit? So yeah, you ain’t taking it as good as you normally do, right, so let me take you out and get your mind off it.”

Her face crept into a grin. “Can we go to Jean-Georges?"

He could have guessed that’s where she’d request. “You bloody want caviar, don’t ya?” Her rapid nodding confirmed. It was only in the last few years that she’d really relaxed her moderately Kosher diet to such a degree, telling Alfie it was his influence, turning her into an equally bad Jew as he labelled himself. “Good job I’m worth a mint, innit? Fuckin’ wives and their disposition for pricey fish eggs, I dunno. Let me call Stace and see if she’s got a table.”

Stace, or rather Stacy, was the Maitre'd at Jean-Georges at the Connaught, the hostess always taking good care of them when they visited, as she did with all of her exuberantly wealthy clients. “Stace! How are ya, flower? Yeah, ain’t bad, sweet, ain’t bad. Yeah, you gotta table for about an hour from now? You do? Lovely, treacle, yeah put me down, just me and the missus. Alright, love. See you in a bit.” He then turned to his beaming wife. “You’ve got twenty minutes to go and faff. Hurry up.”

She placed a big smacker on his lips, rushing upstairs to quickly check her face, refresh her deodorant and perfume, and change into something more suitable for a restaurant with three Michelin stars. One pair of leather leggings were pulled on, along with her beautiful, grey cashmere sweater, her red Birkin bag selected, and contents transferred from her other bag, her feet jammed into her black Louboutins, and she was good to go.

“Oh blimey, my hair!” Circling back, she quickly picked up her brush and gave it a once over, hearing her husband boom from the stairs.

“Five minutes, Bethany!” He entered the bedroom, pulling off his sweatshirt, giving her an approving once over. “Love them lovely legs wrapped in leather.” A smack placed to her bum echoed through the bedroom, Alfie chuckling with mirth as he shed the rest of his clothes, heading to the ensuite and getting into the shower.

“You said five minutes!” she yelled, giving his nudity an appreciative once over while leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

“I’ll be out in twenty seconds, darlin’.” She had to envy him sometimes, how he could go from casual to restaurant ready in a matter of minutes. Styling his hair took him all of a minute, whereas for her, she’d battled through her thick mane with the straighteners for half an hour that morning. He dressed in a grey suit with a black shirt, not bothering with a tie, handsome, yet sophisticated and casual. A spray of aftershave had him ready with forty-nine seconds to spare. Yes, Beth had counted.

One drive across London later, and they were being seated at one of their favourite restaurant by Stacy herself, who was as attentive and polite as ever. He ordered his usual sparkling water, Beth a large vodka over ice, since it went best with what she was soon to be enjoying. The way he worded it too, when her caviar arrived, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Enjoying that, darlin’, having a load of sturgeon reproductive goo in your gob?”

She almost sprayed half of them back out again. “Stop it! And yes, I am.”

He chuckled, winking. “Anything I can do to put a smile back on your face, petal.” He paused, sipping his drink and taking another bite of his souffle. “Kids are taking it better than I expected ‘em to, ain’t they?”

“They really are, yes,” she confirmed, smoothing more of the beluga onto a toast point. “Better than me, I think. I burst into tears as soon as I opened Oliver’s gift earlier.” She’d shown it to him before they’d left, Alfie placing it upon the hallway table, next to one of their wedding pictures. He’d loved it, assuring her he’d call Oliver and Brett personally to offer his thanks later that evening when they’d both be at home.

“Kids are so much more resilient than we give ‘em credit for, I think. Flora had a little wobble this morning on the way to school, but she was fine by the time we got to the gates. Told her about rainbow bridge, she seemed to like that.”

The rainbow bridge story. Her heart fluttered at his tenderness with their youngest. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss, Alfie accepting it, albeit with a slightly affronted look.

“Ugh, get away with your fish eggs! Bleedin’ stink horrid, they do!” No, he was definitely not a fan of the delicacy. Still, it didn’t stop him from buying them for his wife whenever she wanted them, though. They followed their starters with a steak for him, Beth choosing the grilled lamb, much too full for dessert. He did, however, stop by at her favourite chocolatier on the way back to Chelsea, spoiling her a little more, purchasing a few treats for the kids, too.

Once home, Beth sat with the children in the lounge, going over their homework tasks with them while Alfie returned to his office. While there, he found himself periodically checking his watch, the habit pure muscle memory. At 5pm every night, he’d leave his desk to walk Cyril. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, absently stroking his beard as he leaned back and thought of his furry best friend.

God, he missed him.

They’d known for a while that his declining health meant only one thing, both making the decision not to keep pumping him full of painkillers for his arthritic hips, and eventual failing organs. It wouldn’t have been fair, they’d decreed, to keep him going just for the sake of their hearts. He’d outlived his life expectancy by three years, it was his time.

Rather than continuing viewing his acquisition profits for the last month, he found himself looking through various dog rescue sites, smiling at the sweet, hopeful faces of the residents. He decided right there and then that when the family were ready, they’d rescue as opposed to buying a puppy. Maybe they could take in more than one? He’d only been looking for a few moments when he felt uncomfortable, knowing it truly was too soon to even consider any dog other than Cyril being in the house, no matter how cute they all were.

Weeks passed, the family getting used to the lack of his presence within the house, life carrying on. For Alfie, with the kids being on their half term break from school, he threw himself into being a present dad, knowing his empire wasn’t going anywhere and would certainly not crumble for him taking time away from it, enjoying days out with them in abundance.

It was while he was out with his offspring one morning that Beth decided to take up an offer extended to her and try something new. Mimi had been raving about her love for Thai boxing for a good few months, attending both mid-morning and evening classes at her local gym, finally talking Beth into attending one with her.

“You know Abe thinks you’re a ninja now, don’t you?” she spoke as they ran through warmup stretches, Mimi chuckling softly.

“Well, if you enjoy it and keep it up, he’ll be able to say you are, too!”

“Oh no,” she scoffed, reaching to her toes. “I’m still smelly fart head. And Nagatha Christie, thanks to him overhearing Alfie calling me that.”

Mimi all but exploded laughing. “Oh my god, he doesn’t change!” She remembered back to when she’d been dating him, him calling her exactly the same whenever she incisively bent his ear over something. “So, where did you say they’ve gone today?”

Taking to the floor, they sat opposite each other, legs wide and feet pressed together, taking turns to pull back on one another’s hands to experience the deep stretch. “Chessington World of Adventure. They’ve never been before, you should have seen them this morning. God, Mims. The squealing!”

“Awww,” she cooed, leaning back as she softly gripped Beth’s hands. “I can’t wait for Lis to be big enough to appreciate all of this and go there, too. I was actually talking about it to Josh a while back, but I can never remember it’s called Chessington, so I was calling it Chesterton Theme Park and he was like, “erm, what, babes? Where’s that?” until I realised that I was flubbing the name. Typical me.”

It truly was. Mimi would not be Mimi if she wasn’t getting her words confused. Beth still wasn’t over her recent blunder of calling chicken pasta Alfredo, “the Alfred pasta.” Her and Kinga had fallen apart completely while a totally nonplussed Mims had continued browsing the menu. She was a pure joy if nothing else.

As Beth very rapidly discovered once the gloves had been put on and focus mitts brought out, Mimi was also one hell of a mean shot with her fists. Then the kicks happened.

“Jesus bloody Christ!”

“Oh, don’t be daft, mate. I’m not that strong!” Mimi exclaimed, a well-placed kick sending Beth a couple of feet backwards.

She gathered herself, holding the kick pad firmly once more. “I beg to differ!”

By the time they were done and meeting up with Magda for a little shopping and lunch, the latter having enjoyed a blissful morning of nothing due to her booking some time off work, Beth could barely move.

“Alright, tin man.”

Magda’s words earned her a scowl, Beth kissing her cheek. “It isn’t funny, she beat me up!” Turning, they both witnessed a triumphant Mimi flexing her muscles, cracking up at herself and moving to greet Magda.

“Tiny, little blonde Bruce Lee, is it?”

“Not quite,” Mimi muffled from the crush of Magda's usual, warm, bone crunching hug. “But you should come!”

She should have expected the face she got in reply to that. “My love, the only exercise I get is running me gob. You know that. Right! Let’s go be fancy bitches then, shall we, ladies?” The women were heading to Mecca, otherwise known as Covent Garden, their favourite place to shop. Magda’s contact at Chanel and subsequent discount didn’t hurt either. Not everyone was a wealthy as Beth.

She still found it bizarre, though, even ten years into being the girlfriend and then wife of a billionaire, to be able to spend an unlimited budget on herself. She and Alfie did offset it by giving an awful lot of it away to charity, though. Or, as Beth often did, heading to the bank, withdrawing a few hundred pounds and giving out little wedges to any homeless people she happened to see along her way. It made her feel better about the huge divide in the country between the very wealthy and very poor.

Still, the Chanel employees relished in seeing her name down in the appointment book, knowing they were about to receive a very nice commission.

“Mrs. Solomons, welcome,” she was greeted by Leighton with, the chief sales attendant. “Oh, this cardigan is a dream! Is it an Oscar?” he asked courteously, smoothing the black cashmere of her sleeve.

She leaned in close to whisper. “No, it’s actually M&S!”

His mouth dropped open. “Oooh, I love a good bargain! Can I offer you ladies a drink? Coffee, juice, champagne?” Of course, they all chose the latter. Once furnished with drinks, Leighton allowed them to browse unassisted, Magda deep in conversation with her friend Hannah, who managed the store while Mimi picked up a bottle of her usual perfume, and Beth browsed the bags.

She ended up choosing two of the boy bags, quilted effect design with a chain strap, one in grey and another in pink. The pink one was hidden, though, since the recipient wasn’t her. She ferried her choices to Leighton, asking him to gift wrap the pink one, moving to the shoes and selecting a pair of turquoise sandals she liked, too. Those, a skirt and pair of trousers later, and she was done.

Once Magda was done chatting, choosing a scarf and a new pair of sunglasses for herself, and another item also not destined for her, they paid for their purchases and left, hopping into a taxi and heading over to Shoreditch. They had a table booked at Camino, Mimi’s favourite tapas restaurant, a meal she had no idea she was being treated to by her friends in lieu of being able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, Josh taking her for a long weekend in Italy the following week. Hence the purchases at Chanel not destined for their own wardrobes.

“Right then, little miss almost thirty-two,” Magda began, bobbing her tongue between her teeth as Mimi cringed.

“Oh, don’t remind me! I was twenty-one five minutes ago, I feel old!”

Beth snorted, lifting her eyes from the menu. “Oh, stop it. I just turned forty!”

“And I’m hitting the big five zero in six months, so you’re still the bloody baby of the group, ain’t ya?” Magda chimed, giving her a soft poke on the wrist. “Anyway, as I was saying, since you’ll be enjoying pasta and cannoli's over in the motherland on your actual birthday, you get your gifts from us now. Happy birthday, babe.”

Mimi’s mouth fell open when from beneath the table, two double C branded boxes were pulled out and passed to her, a long, high pitched squeak emanating. “Oh my fucking god! You didn’t!”

“We did, now shut your gob and get ‘em opened!”

She did, choosing Magda’s first, her mouth flying open again when she pulled out the long, gold and blue Chanel nameplate style necklace within.

“Oh, darlin’,” the lady herself cooed, Mimi in tears as she immediately put it on and then rushed to hug her. “You like it, then?”

“I bloody love it, Mags! Thank you so much, I love you!”

She was so touched, Mimi always so sweet when presented with gifts. “Love you too, sunshine, and you’re welcome.” Taking her seat again, she then moved onto Beth’s present, almost passing out when she saw the bag she had so coveted within, her hands flying to cover her open mouth with a gasp.

“Beth!” Those hands then began to flap, more tears coming. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Once again, she was out of her seat, wrapping Beth in a huge hug. “I love it, and you! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, darling,” she told her warmly, kissing her cheek a few times. “We know you’ve had a rough year, so we wanted to spoil you a little.”

Indeed, it had been a bad year for Mimi, finding out in January that she was pregnant again, but sadly losing the baby just a week before her first scan. She’d been so sad for months about it, her friends trying hard to pull her out of her funk and be there for her during her period of grief.

Beth knew the pain well, she and Alfie suffering the same between her having Abe and conceiving Flora, so had been a pillar of support for her during that time. It was also one of the reasons why she’d taken up Thai boxing, needing something to take out her anger at the injustice of losing her baby on, choosing the sport to help in catharsis. The fact that she happened to be very good at it and already training for her orange belt was a mere bonus.

After enjoying their lunch, they were about to get a cab back over to Chelsea, since the women were heading back to Beth’s for a girl’s night that evening, when one of them saw something in the near distance she couldn’t ignore. Thai boxing had also made Mimi very brave where conflict was concerned.

“Oi! Oi!” She shouted, pointing. Her heels were off, Mimi sprinting barefoot up the street, Beth and Magda turning to search for what on earth had caused their friend’s sudden reaction.

“Oh, shitting hell,” Magda quietly hissed, beginning to run after her as they witnessed the object of Mimi’s anger, Beth hot on her heels. “I know she’s got all this newly found Thai boxing mettle, our Mims, but she can’t take on some scummy roadman by herself, fuck!”

A roadman was Magda’s preferred slang term for an undesirable man, usually donned in sports clothing, who stank of weed and thought himself to be some kind of hard arsed gangster. A large dog upon a lead that was much too large for purpose was usually involved, too, which in this instance was what had drawn Mimi’s attention. Or rather, the way said roadman treated the animal in question.

“Stop it! You can’t treat a dog like that, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?” she exclaimed, the young man of about twenty yanking the poor, skinny but still sizable, dark grey dog by the heavy choke chain around his neck. “He’s just a baby, you bastard!”

“Yo, what’s it to you, though, yeah?” he spoke, sucking his teeth. “Ain’t got nuttin’ here, girl. No business with me, ya get me, blud?”

“You’ve got a bloody chain about the size they use to secure fucking motorbikes around his neck and you’re yanking him up the street! I’m not standing by and watching that shit, mate! Fucking stop pulling him!”

The man even had the gall to smirk. “Ain’t nuttin’ to you. Yo, don’t touch me, fam!” He tried to shake her grip on his arm loose, Mimi fighting to secure the lead from his grasp, people all around stopping to stare. “Fuck, I’ll fuckin’ stab you up, bird. Ya get me?”

Magda and Beth arrived with them, the former immediately imposing herself. “Threaten her with a knife again, boy. Go on, sunshine. Fucking dare ya.”

“And who are you, old lady? What ya gonna do, yeah?”

Magda laughed, still imposing into his space. “Who am I? Someone who grew up on the fuckin’ roughest estate in Brixton is who I am, you little roadman twat. I’ll take the chain you’ve got round that poor animal's neck and fuckin’ knock every single one of your fuckin’ teeth out your mouth with it if you threaten me or my friend again. Ya get me, blud?”

Her mimicking of his vernacular drew a few laughs from those watching, Magda unblinking, Beth feeling her pulse escalate with nerves. Just then, her focus was drawn by the sudden feeling of softness pushing against her hand. Looking down, she saw the dog moving closer to her legs, Mimi successfully yanking the lead free from the grip of the man still facing off with Magda.

She crouched to him, stroking his crinkles. He was shaking. “Hello, lovely boy. Are you alright? Goodness, this chain is cutting into your neck, you poor soul,” she cooed, checking him over. He was in a state, that was for sure. She recognised his breed, but he looked the furthest from how the huge, proud looking Neapolitan Mastiff should have appeared. He was young too, she noted, nowhere near the full-grown size but still, so undernourished. Looking into his big, soulful eyes as he softly thumped his tail and licked her hands, covering her in a generous slick of slobber, her ears caught the tail end of Magda’s tirade.

“Now, I’ll give you a choice, mate. Walk away and leave the dog with us, or I’ll fuckin’ get the law on ya for animal abuse and threatening my friend with a knife. What’s it to be? Because you ain’t lookin’ after that dog at fucking all, are ya? Look at him, barely out of his puppy months and he’s skin and bone! What’s it to be?”

She stood firm, the man shrugging before cussing under his breath, his teeth sucked again before he simply walked away. He didn’t even fight for his dog, so little was the care for the creature beyond having a status symbol at the end of a lead. A few people applauded, a man coming forth and offering his hand to Magda, telling her how well she’d handled it.

She then turned to Beth, taking the lead from Mimi and handing it to her with a curt nod. “Don’t say I never give you nothing.”

Immediately, tears spilled from her eyes, hugging the dog as she cried into his soft, yet dirty fur. He stank of cigarettes and weed. “Oi, come on, babe. Hold it together, eh?” Magda continued, crouching to put her arm around her, Mimi dipping too to offer support. “Right, nearest pet shop. He needs a bit of proper dog clobber and not this nasty chain. Look at it! You could tow a fuckin’ Jeep out of a bog with it! Poor puppy, Christ! He can’t even be one yet.”

A quick hail of a black cab got them the transport they needed to reach the nearest pet shop, the large puppy more than happy to head along with the three kind ladies who made such a fuss of him.

“He’s a lovely chap, ain’t he?” the cabbie chirped, looking in the rear view. “Please make sure he don’t slobber on me seats though, girls! How long you ‘ad him for?”

“About five minutes,” Beth quipped, the cabbie looking confused. “My besties here commandeered him from a roadman lad who was mistreating him, so yes, I went out handbag shopping and ended up with a couple of them, and a dog, too.”

“Bet you couldn’t pick one of them up in Chanel either, right?” His words had them laughing, obviously noticing the branded bags they all carried from their little splurge in that very store. Once at the pet superstore, they paid him with thanks, Beth taking some tissues from her blazer pocket and wiping up where the dog had dribbled on the floor.

“I can’t take you in on this,” she spoke, removing the chain. ��Are you going to be good and stay with me, or do I have to put my back out and carry you?” He must have weighed a good twenty plus kilograms already, Magda noting on the way over that he was probably under a year in age. “Come on.” She made a kissy noise with her lips, the dog tilting his head before lolloping along with them, pinning himself at Beth’s side.

Just twenty-five minutes into his new life, and he seemed to feel safe enough to revert to how he should have acted. Carefree, silly and happy, as all puppies should. He drew a few questions from the staff, Magda explaining the story while Beth sorted him with a new collar and lead, another member of staff coming over and advising on a harness, too.

“You’ll of course need to come back and fit him with a larger one once he’s fully grown,” he spoke, making adjustments, noting the state he was in. “Flipping well done to you all, too, taking him away from that vile person. I can’t bear to see animals mistreated.”

It was one of those pet superstores that also contained a veterinarian clinic as well as a groomer, Beth pleased to learn that they actually had a few appointments spare for each a little later, waiting around for forty minutes after making the purchases of food, a new bed, toys and everything else he needed before going in to see the vet.

“From his teeth, I would estimate he’s around eight months old, no microchip either, so we can pop one of those in for you, too. I’m going to say I very much doubt he’s had his vaccinations either, so I can start a file for you with a card. I will recommend a course of wormer and flea treatments as well which we sell down in the store. Can I take your details please, Mrs. Solomons?”

She duly gave those details, the vet speedily typing them into the file. “And the dog’s name?”

Oh. She had no idea. Thinking for a few moments, she felt a little on the spot, feeling like it should have been a decision she consulted Alfie and her kids over. It then came to her in a flash, the perfect name for her brand-new companion.

“Wilson.” she smiled. After all, they had been on Wilson Street when they’d found him. Once his microchip had been sorted, the little wounds caused by the chain upon his neck bathed and flushed, the vet made a few more recommendations, Beth taking Wilson’s new vaccination card and thanking him.

They then went to the groomers section of the store, Beth remaining with him while he was attended to, for the sake of it all being so new and not wanting him to feel like he was being abandoned. The colour of the water that ran off him made her insides pinch. She guessed he’d likely never been washed. She was only surprised he didn’t have fleas or skin conditions, the state he’d been in.

Once bathed, Beth held him while he was dried, Wilson swiping at the nozzle for the dog dryer with his paws, comically trying to bite it as well, his large, floppy ears he hadn’t quite grown into flapping around all over the place. He tilted his head back, his big, blue eyes staring at Beth with all the love and trust in the world, his tail thumping. He knew he was safe, and it melted her heart to see him accept his new life so willingly. She could only imagine just what the hell he had come from.

With some flea treatment and wormer purchased, another cab was called for, Mimi calling for an Uber pet service, the girls and Wilson all piling in.

“Oh god, I hope Alfie doesn’t go mental at me for bringing him home. Thank the stars you two are staying for dinner, he’ll make less of a scene with his best mate and the woman he’s terrified of there,” she exclaimed, both snorting with laughter.

Magda pointed at Wilson, reaching to rub his ears. “How the flip can anybody go mental at this face? Look at him! Bloody lovely thing, he is!” He was, that much was true, but just nine weeks after Cyril’s passing, Beth worried that it was much too soon to consider another canine companion. Then again, what were she and her girls meant to have done? Let the poor creature remain with the scumbag who previously owned him? Taken him to Battersea? He had a new start right there waiting for him. It seemed silly to bypass such a fated meeting.

Once back at home, Magda grabbed as many bags as she could, Beth leading Wilson to the front door while juggling his new bed under her other arm, Mimi bringing the rest. Placing everything in the kitchen, Beth unfastened Wilson from his harness, the three standing back while watching him begin to explore his new surroundings.

“Might be a good idea to steer him in the direction of the back door, just in case he isn’t house broken,” Mimi suggested, Beth widening her eyes.

“A very good point, my friend! Oy, could you imagine if he pissed up the sofa before Alfie even gets home to either love him or shout at me?”

Magda snorted. “Babe, he ain’t gonna shout, you’re fine! Look at him, bloody little smasher, he is! Besides, didn’t you tell me you guys wanted to rescue? Well, he was rescued, so there you go.”

Following the dog, they all herded him in the direction of Alfie’s office, Beth jogging to open the door that led to the garden. Once outside, his nose didn’t leave the floor, tail wagging, letting out a few excited baby barks as he sprinted across the patio, chasing a butterfly. Three hearts all melted immediately, Beth’s then catapulting into her chest when she heard the front door opening.

“Stay out here with him, let me go and face the music.” Turning she strode through the office, welcoming her family, Alfie’s eye as eagle as ever.

“What’s with this, this shifty look on your mug, ay?” he spoke slowly, pointing at her face and giving her another kiss.

“Um... something happened today. Kids, go and take your coats off and wait in the kitchen. Abe, sort you and your sister a juice each, there’s a good boy.”

His eyebrow rose. “And?” he spoke, the kids obediently trotting off down to the kitchen.

“And...” she began, hearing a little commotion, and a soft yapping bark before turning to see Wilson slip out of Magda’s grasp and come hurtling towards them. “And we have a puppy.”

“What the fu...” he began, his eyes widening as his mouth dropped open. “Hello, you! Fuck, look at you, bloody hell! Little tank, innit? Bit thin though, ain’t ya, ay? Hello mate!” Reaching down, he easily lifted him into his arms, Wilson showering him in puppy kisses. “Oi, no biting the beard, yeah?” More washing continued. “Where’d ya get him from? I thought you birds was off up Covent Garden? Last time I checked, they didn’t sell no mastiff’s up there!”

“You’re not cross with me?” she asked, her hand rubbing Wilson’s wriggly legs.

“Nah, darlin’! Bit surprised, like, but I ain’t mad. Look at him, he’s a right little champ, ain’t ya?”

“Told you,” Magda called, ducking her head back in from where she was smoking a cigarette, swiftly going on to explain what had happened, Alfie and Beth joining them outside.

“Bleedin’ might’ve known you two would have something to do with it!” he exclaimed, pinching Mimi’s nose between his fingers. “Thinking you’re some kind of street fighter, takin’ on roadmen, you fiery mare!”

Mimi beamed, giving him a few playful punches. “Worth it though, wasn’t it? Puppy boy here got himself some lovely new parents and a lovely new home!”

“Yeah,” Alfie began, setting him down on the ground again, Wilson lolloping off, “a home he better not bleedin’ take to chewing. Ain’t having none of that game, I ain’t. You got him toys and all that, baby beast? Or we gotta go out again?”

“Nope, all sorted. Hold on, let me go and get the kids.” Rushing back to the kitchen, she retrieved her children, telling them there was a surprise waiting for them outside. When they saw him, oh, their little faces. Excited squeals filled the space, happy tears were shed, and a very big, very wriggly puppy introduced himself with lots of kisses.

Suddenly, the house wasn’t so quiet for the new member of the family settling in, the girls night turning into a family night as they all watched Wilson happily acclimatise to his new surroundings. He played with the kids for a full two hours before flopping into his bed, asleep within moments. Since it was the weekend as well as half term, the kids were allowed to stay up late, their dad treating them to pizza while Beth ordered in a Chinese takeaway for her and her friends, eating it upstairs in the cinema room while they watched Pretty Woman.

While taking a pause between that and the next film, she came downstairs to grab another bottle of prosecco from the fridge, pausing at the entrance to the lounge. There, all snuggled up on a nest of blankets and floor cushions, her husband sat with the children stroking Wilson, who was stretched out on his legs. Noticing his wife there, he smiled, winking. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. All four of you.”

And by god, how she did. With the arrival of one dog who needed them just as much as they did him, their family was whole again. Wherever the spirit of Cyril was, she couldn’t help but think he’d approve, too.

The End.

#alife solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons au #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie and beth #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction

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bluehoodiewoozi · 2 years ago

Text

You Changed Everything

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 10,6k

Wanings: some stronger language. mentions of violence, blood and injuries. it is implied that y/n was in a gang. small food and alcohol mentions.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Two runaways meet in a bar and decide to get an apartment together to escape their worries. Their relationship has fuzzy borders from then on as they explore each other’s past and worries.

Note: a lot more angst than i’m used to writing but my bestie said the fic is just a mildly angsty house husband au, so idek.

You met him on a rainy summer evening.

Though you had put in some effort to dress up nicer than you usually would, you still looked and felt like a mess. Your drink sloshed around in the glass but you had little to no interest in it that night. If anything, it was an excuse to escape to this bar.

You barely liked the place more than you liked the people in it, but you supposed it was an improvement from your normal life. At the very least the lights were prettier there, shining gold and red.

Your thoughts drowned out any sound that echoed between the walls. Perhaps that’s why he caught you off-guard.

“I’ll have a tequila, please,” he called out to the bartender and practically fell into the seat next to yours, startling you out of your thoughts so hard that a drop of your drink fell onto your fingers.

Eyes wide, you watched this man who somehow looked worse than you did. His hair was haphazardly bleached blonde and cut, a few black pieces peeking through here and there; it was a mess from the number of times he must’ve run his hand through it.

“Rough day?” the bartender asked him while placing the tequila glass down.

The man scoffed and slumped against the counter. “It always is.”

Before he could ask anything more, the bartender was called elsewhere, leaving the two of you there alone. You couldn’t help but laugh a little – you hadn’t laughed in days – as he downed the tequila and cursed right after.

“Not much of a tequila guy?” you inquired.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of your voice, but a small smile appeared on his face nevertheless. “No, but I figured I should try something different.

“You don’t look like you’re in a much better place mentally,” he tried to joke without even realising how right he was. “So, what’s your tale?”

“I’m not big on sharing,” you told him that evening and took a swig of your drink, “but if you’re patient enough, you might find out.”

He smiled at your words – whether he was amused, understanding or too much of a jokester for his own good you’d never know. Then, he extended his hand. “I’m Soonyoung.”

To the surprise of both of you, a few exchanged sentences turned into hours of talking. By the time the bartender kicked you out (not before asking Soonyoung to cover the both of your bills, which he begrudgingly did) you were so far drunk and gone that you could barely stand up straight.

You rarely let yourself get to this point, afraid of letting your guard down and getting in trouble that would end with more than a slap on the wrist or a black eye. But this time you couldn’t be bothered to hold back. A new city, a new you – you repeated that to yourself every time you took a shot.

The more you talked, the more you realised the two of you were at the same point in your lives. The same chapter of a different book of a similar genre.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” you started with drunken giggles as the two of you stumbled through the streets together later that night.

Soonyoung seemed only a little more sober than you, seeing as he was the one providing most of the balance the two of you shared on your trip. Still, his face was red and he was laughing non-stop at just about anything, so maybe he just had very good balance. He nudged and prompted you, “What idea? Tell me, tell me!”

“What if we–” You burst into giggles again. “No, we couldn’t possibly.”

“We couldn’t?” he seemed almost scandalised that you would suggest something so preposterous – whatever it was you were suggesting.

“Okay, hear me out,” you eventually managed to get out when you got a break from your laughter, “your life sucks, my life sucks, we’re both new here – let’s move in together.”

He stopped in his steps, halting you with him. His eyes seemed to clear at the idea. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t have a place to stay and not enough money to cover the rent of anything alone. But together– Together we could rent an apartment, somewhere in this city.”

A smile appeared on his face and your drunk self felt a little weak at the knees at the sight. How had you stumbled upon this gorgeous specimen at all?

To your utter surprise, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder a little tighter and nodded, slurring his words a little as he answered, “That sounds wonderful. Let’s do that. Together.”

You moved into apartment 4C close to midnight only a week later. It was then that you learned that Soonyoung wasn’t particularly fond of the dark. Funnily enough, the darkness was where you felt most comfortable.

And yet, as you walked around your new home, 4C was like something out of a horror film.

The ceiling had obvious water damage. The floors were covered in dust and bits of dried mud. And the bathroom made such terrifying noises that Soonyoung had to ask you to keep watch outside the door every time he used it.

Even the guy in charge had seemed baffled in your interest in the place when he showed you the apartment two days ago. But this was all the two of you could afford.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much to carry up the stairs. You and Soonyoung only had a single bag each. You and your trusty backpack, Soonyoung and his suitcase – that was all you had.

Be the state of the furniture of the apartment as it may, at least it was there. You had a sofa, a dining table and a queen-sized bed – what more could you possibly need?

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” you told your new roommate as the two of you looked around, exhausted from your journey. “You take the bed.”

He didn’t seem to like the idea as much as you expected him to. Instead of a grateful smile, what you received was a disapproving scowl. “No, I’ll take the sofa. You take the bed.”

You were baffled at his response. It didn’t take much to figure out that this man was used to living in luxury – he wore a button-up shirt on moving day, for crying out loud! Why would he possibly give up the bed?

“It’s fine, Soonyoung,” you insisted and prepared to settle down on the sofa. “I’ll be fine. You can spread out on the bed.” You felt a little jealous of him, really.

“But that’s not very fair,” he said and pulled you back up just as you managed to lie down. Before you could protest, he took your place and melted into the cushions. “You go sleep in the bed and tomorrow we can– Ow!”

He sat up as fast as he lied down and glared at the sofa before lifting his hand to inspect it. A bloody scratch stood in his palm, thin and painful – you thought it a warning.

“That’s it,” you sighed and pulled him up just like had done for you just moments ago, “we’re both sleeping on the bed. At least it has a new mattress.”

Soonyoung grumbled under his breath as he realised that he couldn’t be the perfect gentleman this time. Not with this cut in his hand.

“Really,” he cursed under his breath and glared at the scratch while blindly following after you by the hold you had on his sleeve, “who even gets injured by a sofa?”

“You, apparently,” you told him with a scoff before pushing him to sit on the bed.

You turned on the single light in the room and found that the bed was a little smaller than you had thought. Still, you brought this upon yourself, so with another sigh, you picked up your backpack and rummaged through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“The first-aid kit.”

“Why do you have a first-aid kit in there?”

“Because of you, it seems,” you bit back before victoriously digging the item out and throwing it on the bed. “There, clean that scratch. God knows what that couch has seen. I don’t want to nurse you back to health from the dead.”

“Aw, you care,” he giggled as he looked through the little red bag.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged off your leather jacket. “No. I just don’t have the money to pay this rent alone.”

“That’s what they all say,” he joked before thanking you nonetheless.

While he cleaned and dressed his wound, you took it upon yourself to make the bed. The owner had been kind enough to get you a brand new mattress, two blankets and three pillows as well as some bed sheets. You hoped they’d be as comfortable to sleep on as they looked.

Once the bed was made and you lied under the covers, the situation sank in. You were finally independent and free and you hadn’t had to do anything really illegal to achieve any of this. All it had taken was a friend.

Said friend grumbled on the other side of the bed. “Why is it so cold here?”

“The landlord said the heating would take some time to start,” you reminded him softly and tried to get comfortable with the idea of sharing the bed, as big or small as it was. “Just pull the blankets around yourself a little tighter, Soonyoung.”

Silence filled the room. Too loud to let you sleep just yet. When you let out a defeated sigh, Soonyoung spoke up again, “I don’t want to seem rude or needy or anything but–”

“What is it?” you mumbled and turned to face him.

“Can I hold you?” he whispered after a hesitant pause before ranting on, “I’m sorry. I just can’t sleep unless I hold something and it’s cold and you’re here anyway, so I just thought–”

To this day you don’t know what came over you that night. You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you wrapped yourself around his frame. Your arms comfortably rested around his torso, your head on his chest. You could hear his breath hitch and his heartbeat pick up before his arm wrapped around your body.

“Better?” you mumbled into his chest, thankful that it was too dark to see. It made it easier to forget you were actually cuddling a real human-being and not a giant pillow.

Soonyoung sighed softly, relieved and happy, before humming. “Better. Good night. Sleep well.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply – you had never fallen asleep faster.

Your apartment felt empty still even after three whole days. It felt less like a home and more like a shell. And yet you hadn’t felt so comfortable in years. A little worn-down, lacking a lot of the essentials, but free and, most importantly, safe from your past.

“It’ll feel more like home eventually,” Soonyoung whispered as he sat next to you on the small torn couch, his side pressing against yours. You felt his gaze on you, his voice impossibly small as he added on, “Right?”

You were still hesitant as well. Without much thought, you leaned into the comfort his warmth offered and rested against your head on his shoulder. It scared you how quickly you had grown used to his presence and affection and – worst of all – how fast you had started to reciprocate.

“The sunrise is beautiful,” you whispered back instead of answering his question, eyes still stuck on the view out of your living room window. A nice big window with a beautiful view towards the river – just like you’d always dreamed.

Soonyoung chuckled and rested his head against yours. “It’ll only become more beautiful the longer we stay here, I’m sure. We came all this way to see it.”

And come a long way you had, from the cold and unforgiving streets of the city. You could only hope this would be the turning point of your life and you could now finally forget your past.

“Do you think we could get a pet?” he then asked you. “I think a dog could make this place more lively.”

“No,” you told him before you could even fully comprehend and contemplate. You had always wanted a dog, or a cat. But old habits die hard.

He pouted. “But why?”

“Just because.”

“Because…?” he attempted to get an answer out of you, eyes shining hopefully.

You bit your tongue despite the excuses threatening to come out one by one: “because we can’t afford one”, “because I don’t trust myself to care for another being”, “because what if my past catches up with me?”. You held your mouth shut and just shook your head instead of voicing any of those reasons.

“Fine,” he groaned in defeat. “But I will win one day and you won’t be able to deny my request any longer.”

A part of you doubted you’d even stay in his life long enough to see that day. But the other part of you was just as hopeful as he was, if not more, and eagerly awaited that day.

“Can we at least decorate this place?” he then wondered, already eyeing places for trinkets and flower pots. “It’s so cold and empty.”

“Decorate?” You wanted to laugh. “You and what money? We need to find jobs first.”

With an offended scoff, he sat up and glared at you before starting, “I’ll have you know that I have–” and just like that he trailed off and shut up.

“Right,” he eventually mumbled and reached up to run a hand through his hair, “we’re poor.”

That word could barely even cover your situation. You had been lucky to get anything more than a house-shaped cardboard box for the cash the two of you scratched up just a week ago. It had taken some busking on his part (something you found he was decently good at) and a secret threat to a random guy in the streets on your part (something you knew you were very good at). The apartment was barely up to the standards of any person and yet here you sat.

The only places you had managed to clean so far were the bathroom, the one usable bedroom, and the living room window. This place was a complete mess but now it was your mess and, despite its many shortcomings, you were proud of it.

“Maybe we could clean the kitchen tomorrow,” you suggested after a pause.

Soonyoung grinned at the idea. “Yeah, it would be nice to finally have some homemade food.”

“When was the last time you had any?”

He frowned in thought and began counting, his lips moving without a sound as he did so. Eventually he said, “About a year ago? Back when I lived with my parents. Mother used to cook the most delicious bulgogi and my grandmother’s kimchi was out of this world–”

As you listened to him reminiscing, it hit you that you couldn’t remember the last time you saw your parents. You could barely even recall their faces. It had been far more than a year.

Soonyoung’s voice suddenly faded into silence. You didn’t even realise because you were so lost in your daze – in an attempt to recall your mother’s smile or your father’s voice, or anything really. Why was there nothing you could fully remember about them? Had you really already worn those bright memory photos down to blurry smudges?

The walk down memory lane came to an abrupt stop when you felt the warmth of a hand against your cheek.

As he gently wiped your face, Soonyoung spoke in a voice that seemed almost impossibly soft, “Why are you crying?”

“I–” You hadn’t even realised you were crying, but indeed, tears were rolling down your cheeks and your breathing was heavier than before. You had walked a little too far into your memory. “Sorry, I don’t know what–”

“Don’t apologise,” he interrupted and carefully pulled you into his embrace. “You never have to apologise to me.”

“Life will get better soon,” he added after a moment of letting you cry into his shoulder. “Let’s just hang on a little longer. We have this entire place to fix up and decorate.”

You sighed. “We’ll have to find jobs first.”

“I’m sure we can manage that. Together.” He offered the most endearing smile, one so full of hope that your frozen heart swelled at the sight. “After all, everybody else has jobs. How hard can it really be?”

It was only a week later that Soonyoung burst into the apartment with a wide bright smile and papers in hand. He immediately located you on the sofa and practically threw himself at you.

“Guess what!”

You blinked at him slowly before softly sighing and asking, “What?”

“No, you’re supposed to guess,” Soonyoung whined and squished your cheeks together for his own amusement. “So, guess.”

Taking a deep breath, you pushed his hand away so you could speak. “You saw a cute dog?”

He paused. “Actually, yes, I did that too.”

“Really?” You hadn’t expected it to be true, honestly.

“Yeah, the guy living across the hall has this fluffy white dog,” he told you, almost getting distracted already. Almost. “But that’s not it. I have far more important news.”

“What news?”

This time he just about stomped his feet and glared at you in disappointment. “I said you’re supposed to guess.”

“Why did I agree to move in with you?” you wondered under your breath before clearing your throat. “Okay, fine. Did you get free food?”

“Man, that would’ve been nice,” he breathed out – and you felt a little disappointed as well because you could only eat so much instant ramen before it became too much – but he still shook his head. “One more chance.”

“You… Yeah, I have no idea.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted only briefly before a bright smile took over and held the papers out for you to read. “I got us a job.”

Your eyes widened and you sat up immediately, grabbing the papers to inspect them. “You got a job?”

“For us both,” he beamed and awaited praise, much like a little puppy. “How is it? Didn’t I do good?”

Unfortunately for him, you were too baffled to give him the compliments and head pats he so deserved. “How?”

Though he was clearly a little let down by the lack of praises, he still smiled brightly as he proudly recounted the tale. “I ran into one of the girls who lives in this building – Mina, or something like that – and she said that her parents need help with their shop and she remembered that we were new in the city, so she set us up. They want to meet us the day after tomorrow for our first day at their shop.”

“A shop?” You supposed it was better than joining another streetgang for quick dirty money. At least this sounded legal. “What do they sell there?”

Soonyoung squinted in thought, eyeing a random spot on the wall as he tried to sound out what he remembered. “I think it was a bookstore? Or a bar that has books? Or a–” He sighed in defeat. “Something to do with books.”

“I like books.”

“I don’t, but I’m willing to take anything at this point,” he breathed out and leaned back against the sofa. He let out a groan of pain barely a second later and sat back up to stare at the very spot he had just leaned against. “I don’t care what you say: I’m blowing my first paycheck on a new sofa.”

You laughed at that and he practically lit up at the sound, eyes bright as he watched you. Despite feeling shy under his gaze, you couldn’t help but elaborate on your amusement: “You do know how much a sofa costs?”

“Absolutely not,” he admitted without any shame, “but it can’t cost more than our future health bills without a normal sofa.”

You had to agree with that.

“How’s your hand?” you then remembered to ask.

He shrugged and looked at it. “It seems fine. A little sore at times, but I think it’s almost healed.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a pat on the head. “I’m glad.”

“And you’re proud that I got us jobs,” he urged with a playful smile, leaning a little too close to you, “right? I did good, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Much like one would do to a puppy, you finally gave him headpats and cooed, “Yes, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He giggled at your affection but made no moves to reject it. In fact, he leaned further into your space and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Thank you.”

“No,” you sighed and held him close, “thank you.”

Soonyoung hadn’t been too far off with his job descriptions. It indeed had to do with books – a café-library hybrid. Exactly the type you had imagined when you were still young and naive. For the past ten years, you hadn’t even thought this kind of business could actually exist.

Under Mina’s supervision, Soonyoung was appointed the newest waiter at the café section. It took him a few days to get a hold of the coffee maker and the cash-register system.

In the meantime, the far less sociable you was in charge of tending to his near-daily burns as well as restocking and organising the bookshelves.

It was a perfect work division and you didn’t even mind the job too much – especially not when Soonyoung all but ran over to you with a fresh cup of your favourite hot beverage every time there were no customers in the building.

“Did you make this by yourself this time?” you asked between sips.

Soonyoung was practically shining, his chest buffed out proudly, as he nodded. “How is it? Better than last time, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t taste burnt this time,” you half-joked and pinched his cheek affectionately. “Good job.”

“Yes!” He just about vibrated in his place, excited to see improvements in his work. “I’ll become the best barista this town has ever seen.”

“Considering you couldn’t even figure out how to use a kettle the other day, I really can’t wait.”

“Right? Me neither.” He smiled at you, choosing to ignore the little jab at his technical skills. “How are the books treating you today?”

You glanced at the return cart. “It’s not the worst day. It’s manageable.”

“We got really lucky with this job, huh?” he thought out loud. “We should get paid today.”

“Still going to buy a new sofa with the first check?” you teased.

He scoffed as if he felt offended by your words. “The moment we get out tomorrow, we’re going to IKEA. I’m not even joking. I cannot stand that damn thing anymore.”

“And how do you suppose we get that thing to the fourth floor?”

He preferred to not embarrass himself by admitting that he hadn’t really thought that far yet. Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured to the return cart. “Do you need help with those? Mina said I’m not allowed at the counter because I keep stealing her loyal customers.”

“That’s what you get for being too handsome,” you joked and handed him a book to put on the shelf.

He grinned. “You think I’m handsome? Really?”

“What? You thought you’re getting all those tips just for being so good at making coffee?”

“Well,” he paused and pressed his lips together into a tight line of defeat, “no, but–”

“But?”

A confident smile came back onto his lips. “But it’s nice to hear that you think I’m handsome.”

You scoffed and shoved a book to his chest. “I’m never admitting anything to you again.”

“You can’t help it. You think I’m handsome.”

You chose to not interact with him for the rest of the work day, aside from a few hums, remarks and laughs at his dumb jokes. No one could fully ignore Soonyoung. The day went by faster in his presence.

To your surprise, you had multiple notifications when you finally remembered to check your phone. A bank notification to inform you of the paycheck going through – you let out a little sound of cheer because you were officially no longer poor to the point of hunger – and two messages from a number that made your blood run cold.

[did you really think you could just run to a different city and your debts would be forgotten?]

[tomorrow, 8 pm, the corner of rosewood and williams. bring the money and don’t be late.]

And just like that your week took a sharp left turn towards hell.

“You’re not coming to the store with me?” Soonyoung wondered in surprise as the two of you walked out of the store. “Why not?”

You hated lying to Soonyoung. So you didn’t. “There’s someone I have to meet.”

Not a lie. Just an omission. He would never know. It was for the best.

“Am I supposed to pick the sofa out on my own then?” he pouted and tugged at your sleeve. “But it’s your sofa too.”

“I trust your taste.”

Now, maybe you weren’t entirely uncomfortable with lying to him. But this was a lie so dumb and bold that it might as well have been a joke with how annoyed he looked.

You groaned under his scrutinising stare. “Fine. You can just text me when you think you found something you like. And then I’ll say if I like it or not.”

He seemed a little hesitant still, almost as if he knew that your plans for the evening were too dangerous for you to go on your own. But he trusted you. You wished he didn’t.

Finally, he sighed softly and nodded. “Fine. But if you don’t answer within five minutes of each text, I have the right to be mad.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” He smiled proudly at that and nodded. “I’ll go and find us a sofa then.”

“How are you going to get it inside?” you still wondered.

He rolled his eyes, making a show of his tiredness of you underestimating him. “I already talked to Jihoon. He promised to help and get some of the other guys to help as well.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Somehow you felt the need to show him you cared in this moment. “Don’t strain your back, okay?”

He nodded, looking a little solemn at the realisation that you really wouldn’t go along with him. Briefly you wondered if he actually did know where you were going as he took your hand and insistently looked into your eyes. His voice wavered a little as he told you, “You be safe too, alright? Call me if anything happens.”

“Of course,” you breathed out and shook off his hand before heading your way. How you wished you could keep your promise.

As you made your way to the meeting point, you briefly wondered if you were doing the right thing at all. This was something the you from your hometown would’ve done. You would’ve liked to believe that the you of this city was brave enough to not even bother with your past.

Maybe it would’ve been smarter to call the authorities and ask them for help. Heck, even asking for help of one of the guys living in your building could have had better consequences than your current plan.

But your mind was already made up: you were going to break out of this circle the only way you knew how – by facing it head-first.

You reached the the corner of Rosewood and Williams just a minute before 8. When you did, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you checked it, you couldn’t help but sigh at Soonyoung’s name on the screen. As you were about to reply, however, a voice interrupted you.

“Glad to see you’re still as punctual as ever. Now, where is my money?”

You took a deep calming breath. It used to be a lot easier to fake nonchalance before you met Soonyoung. He had changed you.

“I don’t have your money.”

When you turned to face the woman, you did so with the knowledge that it would be your last time to do this, one way or another…

Soonyoung never did hear back from you after the two of you went your different ways in the street. Though he had expected you to ignore his texts and calls, even expected you to come home a little late, he truthfully wasn’t even half-prepared for the anxiety the situation would bring him.

He spent the better part of the night pacing back and forth in the apartment. He was restless – more so than ever before. He hadn’t even been able to pick out a new sofa despite his generous paycheck because he was simply that worried.

There had been something off about you when you bid goodbye that evening and he both feared and waited the moment you’d come home. Even when he tried to rest, he couldn’t go to sleep until you came back to him.

At around 2 am he gave up on sleep and simply sat down on the floor in the middle of the living room, facing the front door as if it could open at any moment now. Between his anxious sighs and curses, he unlocked his phone in hopes of an update. When there was no sign of you even there, he groaned and texted Jihoon to let him know – the man was his only friend in this building besides you.

The clock dragged on.

3 am – nothing.

4 am – nothing but it appeared that Jihoon had fallen asleep in spite of Soonyoung’s panic.

5 am. He heard a rustle at the door.

At first he paid it no mind, assuming it was Seungkwan and Bookkeu going for their morning walk. But his half-asleep brain kicked right into gear when he heard the sound of keys against the lock – against your lock.

Without a second to lose, he jumped up – a little sore from sitting on the ground all night.

He just about cried when he opened the door to find you there. “Where were you?! It’s 5 in the morning!”

You could only whine in response, all of your energy going into staying even somewhat upright. It took Soonyoung a moment to realise your distress, but once he did, he flew right into action.

“Wait,” he gasped as he helped you inside, “you’re bleeding?!”

“Just a little,” you told him and sat on the chair he promptly pulled out for you. “It’s fine.”

Soonyoung looked ready to scream when you told him that. But he must’ve realised that was a dumb idea because he squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then mumbled under his breath, “I’m so killing you after this, I swear to god–” He ran towards the bathroom all while still grumbling, “Where’s that stupid first aid kit? Under the sink?”

You could only grit your teeth and fight the urge to cry. You weren’t one to cry – crying meant weakness and Soonyoung had seen you at your weakest two more times than you would have liked.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital? What if you die?” he scolded you once he emerged from the dimly lit bathroom with a familiar red bag.

He placed it onto the counter next to you and prompted you to lift your shirt enough to show him the wound. You shook your head and pushed him away before reaching for the bag yourself. With practised grace, you pulled out the disinfectant and bandages. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I just want to help–”

“You’ll get nightmares,” you interrupted him while doing everything you could to not cry out when the disinfectant touched your skin. After letting out a muffled hiss, you looked up to still find him there, staring like he couldn’t look away. You rolled your eyes at the sight. “Soonyoung. I’m serious. I can do this myself.”

He seemed almost sad at the mention. “Yeah, but… Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

You sighed and continued to clean the blood. “Just let me be.”

“What happened to you?” he eventually asked your most feared question. You didn’t dare open your mouth to answer. Yet, he pressed on, his voice rising a little with each passing question. “Who was it? Was it that someone you had to meet? What did they do to you?” When you still didn’t dare answer, he scoffed and his worry grew into anger. “I asked who did this to you?!”

You gulped. “An old… acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance?”

It was then that you realised that he wouldn’t leave you alone before he got the full story. You didn’t like that idea one bit. “Soonyoung, you don’t need to know any more. Just leave it.”

He rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth. “Let me get this straight: you think I should watch my roommate– no, my closest friend walk in, blood all over them, at the dead of the night – hell, it’s morning! – and just leave it?” He just about laughed at the idea. “You won’t let me tend to your wounds, so at least tell me what happened. You owe me that much.”

A deep breath – painful due to your injuries – and a sigh. You hesitantly began, “I used to hang out with some… horrible people. I didn’t like to, but I didn’t have a lot of better options around. So, I became a horrible person too.”

“You were in a gang?” His eyes widened before he looked away, as if he was ashamed of even knowing you. At least so you assumed – it was a look you were accustomed to, at least. But when he looked back at you, his eyes were brimming with tears. “They came to get back at you for something, didn’t they?”

You cringed. “I may have stolen some of their cash and… told on them to the police in exchange for a new start.”

Soonyoung wasn’t the smartest guy in town, or even the building, but it appears he was smarter than you. “You didn’t think one of those bad guys would find out and come to get back at you? Didn’t even consider it?”

“Not really, no.” You refused to actually admit that you were that dumb just a few months ago. At least you refused to admit it directly. “I guess I was just foolishly hopeful.”

He let out a deep sigh, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling to blink back the tears of both rage and sorrow he felt for you.

Silence once again filled the room as the two of you stood there, one cleaning their wounds and the other thinking thoughts unknown to the other. Finally, after what felt like forever, once you had wrapped the bandages around your abdomen and arm, Soonyoung looked at you again.

The tears were gone and a glint of fire burned in his eyes instead. His voice was uncharacteristically cold as he uttered, “They won’t touch a hair on your body again. I’ll make sure of it.”

You blinked in confusion. “How exactly?”

He didn’t offer another word of explanation. Instead, he sighed and glanced at the clock before rubbing his eyes and yawning. He offered you a narrow-eyed stare and an accusatory pointed finger. “You’re not coming to work tomorrow.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re taking a sick day, maybe a week. I’ll talk to Mina about it, don’t worry,” he told you, his voice still low and even before he made his way to the bedroom. You followed soon after.

“We need the money though,” you argued all the while trying hide your limp.

He turned around to offer a pointed stare. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine–”

His voice rose again, “Did you forget the part where you almost died?!” He took a calming breath, closing his eyes before adding in a whisper, “You’re staying home and that’s final.”

You didn’t dare argue.

Though you were anxious of what was yet to come, of how your relationship with Soonyoung would go on, it appeared your exhaustion won. The bed had never felt so comfortable and safe, if a little cold without his arms around you this time.

In fact, he made a conscious effort to remain on his side of the bed this time, barely willing to graze against you as the two of you slept.

But when the morning finally came, even through your sleep, you felt a hand softly brushing over your cheeks and soft murmurs of promises you would forget by the time you woke up.

You spent the next day home, alone. It was lonely and cold without Soonyoung around as his presence had largely made up for the lack of decorations and home-like feeling in the apartment.

When he didn’t as much as spare you a second glance in the morning, you first worried your secrecy had enraged him to a point of silence and the ruins of your friendship.

You spent half the day in bed, contemplating if you could really face the day when you had managed to frustrate him so. The other half of the day was spent aimlessly walking in circles around the apartment, looking for anything to do to distract you from your worries.

You found yourself glancing at your phone in hopes of a new message from him, of any sign he thought about you at all.

Fortunately, Soonyoung proved your fear wrong when he returned from work with a bright-eyed smile and a take-away bag of pastries from the café. “Hey! How are you feeling today?”

Just hearing his voice made you soft inside on this day. Without a second of hesitation, you ran over (the best you could with your limp) and pulled him into a hug. He was taken off-guard by your sudden affection, almost to the point of dropping the bag of pastries he’d brought.

When you didn’t utter a single word, his smile morphed into a pout and his hand reached up to rub your back. His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. Finally, you found your voice. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you?” He opened his mouth to argue but soon realised that he was, in fact, just a little bit upset with you. “Well, I’m not going to let you be miserable just because I’m a little upset with you. Speaking of which, I bought you some–”

“Just hold me now. Let it be,” you whispered and leaned further into his embrace. He couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

So he just held you, right there in the front hall, still fully dressed in his coat and boots.

“Soonyoung,” you then started, “about yesterday…”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“It’s not that. I just want you to know,” you leaned back to look at him, “you don’t have to worry about the guys who hurt me.”

His brows rose. “What do you mean? Of course I have to worry about them! They hurt you and you just want me to forget about that? We should report them to the authorities not–”

“I don’t think you understand,” you laughed a little, though there was little humour in the sound. “Soonyoung, we don’t have to worry about them anymore. They got what they wanted and, believe me, they fear me more than I fear them now. I walked out pretty unscathed compared to some of them.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth to inquire some more but remained silent. “I… don’t think I needed to know that. But,” he sighed out in relief, “I guess that means I don’t have to ask for a favour from a friend of mine after all.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of friend?”

“... The head prosecutor of this part of the country.”

“You–” Your jaw dropped. “You know the head prosecutor?”

“I know a lot of people,” he admitted with a shy laugh, stepping back out of your embrace to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“What kind of people?”

“Powerful ones.” Your silence prompted him to add some examples. “The prime minister, some people in the state secretary… The president.”

It strangely made sense now that you thought of it. He did tend to dress a little too formal. He was impeccably polite. And yet he seemed to lack any understanding of the most trivial things.

“You come from old money, don’t you?” you eventually realised. “You’re one of those Kwons.”

“Those Kwons?” he wondered.

You smiled as the pieces fit further together, forming the perfect picture you had been to close to fully see. “One of the richest families in Korea. You’re an heir to a billion-dollar fortune, Soonyoung. I kept wondering why your name rang so familiar.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t done a very good job of hiding.”

“But why are you here then?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’re rich, you’re practically famous. Why this dump? Why me?”

“That– That is a story for another day,” he sighed and took off his coat, toed off his shoes, and walked into the apartment.

But just like he had been the day before, you decided to keep pushing. “Soonyoung.”

And unlike you the day before, he cracked far more easily. “I was sick and tired of the way I was treated. I was practically a play doll for the company – I was whatever they wanted me to be, whenever they needed me to be. I never got to grow to be what I wanted.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

He laughed bitterly and slumped onto the sofa, you following right after, your hand reflexively coming up to rest on his shoulder. “You have no idea. I was a Kwon before I was Soonyoung. I was the property of the company before I was my father’s son. I had all the money in the world but none of the freedom to use it. I hated every second of it. So…” He sighed.

“You ran away.”

“Thought it was my only option. But I don’t think I realised how much more difficult life is without all the money and the contacts.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered and let him lean into your side, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. With the softest kiss on his forehead, you promised, “We’ll figure it all out together.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just taking in the situation and each other’s company. Now that neither of you had anything to hide anymore, a strange new sense of home filled the apartment.

The sofa was still just as creaky and hard as the day when you arrived, and the rooms were still hauntingly empty, but there was more than enough comfort for the two of you.

“So,” he started again, a little more cheerfully, “do you want macaroons? I bought some.”

You smiled. “I could go for something sweet, now that you mention it.”

“Sugar helps you heal faster,” he joked and poked your side, making you wince just a little, “and you need it more than I do.”

“Does that mean I get to eat extra macaroons?” you teased and he immediately gasped at the mention, wounded by your suggestion.

“After all I have done for you–”

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

Despite Soonyoung’s protests, you returned to work just one day later, even as you continued limping and wincing every time you moved.

Obviously, he kept on worrying and checking in on you at every chance. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was both amusing and annoying to see him peek between the shelves every time he caught a break, as brief as it was. Each time, he’d offer a toothy smile and sometimes a candy he nicked from the break room.

“You know you have a job of your own, right?” you laughed when he returned to your side for the 20th time that day. “I bet there’s a queue forming at the register already.”

“Nah,” he waved away your concerns and leaned against the bookshelves to watch you, “rush hour’s done. We should be fine for half an hour at least. Besides, I’m more worried about you.”

“And you’ve chosen to spend that half hour bothering me just because of that? Any other reasons?”

“You’re pretty to look at.” No hesitation. Not even a waver in his voice. “I love spending time with you.”

You scoffed and hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered he made you feel. “You don’t know a lot of people, do you?”

“No, but the people I do know are all wonderful. Like you. Oh, and did I tell you that I ordered a new sofa for us earlier?” He grinned proudly. “So you can rest better while you heal.”

“Can you two stop flirting?” Mina’s voice carried into the bookstore side of the building. “Soonyoung, you’re supposed to be helping me clean!”

His eyes widened at the mention. “Oh shoot.” He hesitated to return to his post, eyeing you in concern as you lightly leaned against the shelves after a movement that was too sudden. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Soonyoung.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But when we get home, you’re not moving even an inch without my permission,” he threatened with a playful smile before kissing your cheek and rushing back to the counter.

You spent the next half hour in a daze — it was the first time he had kissed you at all.

From then on, you often wondered if you even deserved the affections of this man. He seemed far too great and perfect for you. Too wonderful and kind for the likes of you who used to make people’s lives hell for the fun of it.

But sometimes you thought maybe – maybe he was exactly what you deserved and needed: a broken yet cheerful man to mend your equally broken and lonely self. Maybe you were meant to heal each other.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you asked him through a tired laugh as he frantically flipped through the instructions’ booklet. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

“It’s a sofa,” he grumbled, “how hard could it possibly be?”

“You keep saying that but then it has also taken you like an hour to assemble even a third of it.”

He hummed in response, brows furrowed, too deep in the instructions to really listen.

You scoffed at the sight. It had been unbearably adorable just thirty minutes ago, but now? It had been well over an hour and the heating was acting up again. You were getting cold. Very, very cold.

But unfortunately Soonyoung had explicitly forbidden you from moving a single finger unless you wanted to extend your rest – a rule you had taken for a joke at first. But now an entire month had passed and Soonyoung had kept his promise: when you weren’t at work, you were on bedrest at home until he deemed you healthy again.

Thus, now wiser than a month ago, you remained seated on the old sofa, arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, and sighed. “Soonyoung…”

“Listen,” he sighed and looked up at you finally, “I am trying. This thing is more complicated than it looks.”

You pouted – a habit you picked up after living with this man for over two months now. “But I’m cold… ”

His pout matched yours immediately. “What can I do about that?”

“You could hand me a blanket?” you offered with a hopeful smile.

Soonyoung chuckled at your tone, his earlier frustration at the sofa disappearing immediately. He got up and headed to the bedroom, soon emerging with a warm blanket and a garment in hand. He placed both in your lap. “Here, a blanket and you can have my hoodie, too.”

“Your hoodie?” you wondered, picking up the item and eyeing it suspiciously. “Weren’t you wearing this just now?”

He shrugged. “Nice and warm for you, sweetheart.”

You shut up at the nickname, afraid that if you voiced another thought your voice would betray you. But your face must have betrayed you regardless.

“Gosh, you’re so cute!” he cooed just seconds later, squishing your cheeks together a little before pressing a kiss to your forehead as he now often found himself doing. It was as if his need for physical affection had doubled after you got injured.

You whined and shook out of his hold, pulling the blanket over your head to hide. “Stop calling me cute. I’m not cute.”

“You’re absolutely so cute.”

“I’m not.”

“The absolute cutest.” He continued squeezing you through your warm, cosy fortress made up of a single blanket. Thankfully, he soon let up, with a laugh, and returned to his spot on the ground where the pieces of the sofa lied.

“Okay, I can do this,” you heard him whisper to himself in encouragement. You quietly cheered him on from underneath the blanket, peeking out just a little to watch his adorable pout and furrow of brows return.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath, blood running cold in fear despite your heart beating faster in adoration, “I think I might be in love.”

You had dreaded this day. Feared it. Had nightmares about it. But it had come and it was even worse than you imagined: you had finally fallen in love.

But love? Love meant being tied down. It meant being vulnerable and loyal. It meant being there for him when he needed you. But you weren’t sure you could offer that to him.

It was a terrifying realisation. You weren’t used to being tied down or attached to anyone. You had made more enemies than friends in your lifetime. Lovers? Never.

Then there was the issue of reciprocation: just because you were in love didn’t mean he had to be as well. And this was something you couldn’t bear.

You decided that a lonely heart was better than a broken one and distanced yourself in hopes of it being a passing fancy.

It started small. Short answers to his questions. Avoiding his eyes at work. Rolling as far away from him as you could in bed (a fruitless effort, as somehow you still woke up in his arms).

When he didn’t seem to notice, you escalated. Avoided him at all possible places. Took your breaks when he was too busy to join you. You even began sleeping on the new sofa under the pretence that the rising outside warmth was making the bedroom and his embrace too hot to sleep in.

Had you not been so preoccupied with your own feelings, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes shone less brightly and his smiles didn’t quite reach as high as they used to. He had noticed your distancing efforts, and he was heartbroken.

Still, you didn’t dare risk it. You didn’t want to get your heart broken when you were already the most fragile and vulnerable you had been in years.

“Okay, I have had enough of this,” Mina declared one day, stomping over to your section of the store to drag you to lunch. She practically threw your jacket at you before leading you to a café across the street. “Come on.”

After sitting down, you began to fear the worst. “So–”

“Why are you playing with Soonyoung’s feelings?” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest while glaring daggers at you. You paled at her sharp tone. “Is this a game to you?”

“Game? I’m not following–”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Not following?! Have you even looked at him this past week?”

“Sure I have.”

“Really? And you didn’t notice anything strange?”

“Strange as in?”

Her stern look dropped into something more akin to genuine concern. “You– You actually didn’t notice?”

“I have never been so confused in my entire life,” you confessed despite the little bell at the back of your head ringing to say that you knew exactly what she was talking about.

She relaxed in her seat and stared at you, wide-eyed. “I’m worried about both of you now, then. Listen,” she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, “I know I used to tease you about flirting all of the time and what-not, but… I miss hearing the two of you goofing off at work. Now it’s just dead-silent all the time.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

You hesitated.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she encouraged sweetly. “Maybe all you need is someone to listen to you.”

“I… I think I might love him,” you eventually whispered, breaking under her relentless stare, “and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Or if I even deserve it.”

“Oh, honey…”

“He’s so sweet and he’s funny and caring and gives me his hoodies when I’m cold and he learnt to cook so I wouldn’t have to. And me– I’m just a wreck. I don’t deserve to love him.”

“But he loves you,” she whispered so sincerely you almost believed her. You shook your head at the thought, laughing at it almost, until she took your hand and repeated, “He loves you. And I think you’re the only one who hasn’t realised yet.”

“You read too many romance novels,” you told her with a sigh. “How could he ever love me?”

“I assume he thinks the same way about you,” she told you with a sympathetic smile. “You know, he talks about you a lot. I swear he could write a whole novel about you. So, why can’t you just love him back?”

“He doesn’t love me. Even if I love him. He can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if he loves me, he’ll get hurt. He’ll find out that I’m more broken than I let on. He’ll get his heart broken and hate me for the rest of his life. I don’t want that to happen.”

“But,” she was close to tears, always a hopeless romantic at heart, “what if he’s your romance of a lifetime? What if he’s the one that’s meant to be with you?”

“What if we crash and burn?”

“But how do you know that you will if you won’t even give it a chance?”

You didn’t say anything else but her words echoed in your head for days to come.

Soonyoung was many things. Patient was not necessarily one of his qualities. In fact, he was rather short-tempered and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

He let you be for a week – two even. He forced himself to be patient and calm and keep smiling even as you ignored him. He almost hit a breaking point when you picked up your blanket and pillow and left to sleep on the sofa, but still he told himself that you were going through a phase and you would come out of it a warmer person.

But then the third week began and you were colder than ever. He felt as if an ice wall had been built between the two of you. And frankly he was sick of it.

When the day came to a close, he gathered his courage and headed out the café door. As usual by now, you stayed behind at work a little longer under the guise of working overtime. And unlike usual, he stood there waiting for you outside the store.

About an hour passed and he was about to lose hope when you finally stepped out, clad in your hoodie. He jumped up from his spot on the sidewalk and ran to meet you. He didn’t bother to smile.

“Soonyoung,” you gasped in surprise and took a step back as if to hide. “What are you doing here? You should be back home. It’s late.”

“Strange,” he laughed humourlessly, “I was about to say the same about you.” He looked at you up and down once before sighing and shrugging off his jacket, despite your noises of protest. He placed it around your shoulders, adjusting it as he spoke, “Where’s your coat? It’s not even proper spring yet and you’re walking around like it’s summer.”

“I’m fine.”

He frowned and scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in three weeks,” he whispered, hand falling from your shoulder to your palm. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? If you were so mad at me for making you rest, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve–”

“That’s why I didn’t say anything. Because if I told you that something was wrong, you would do anything to fix it. But you can’t fix this.”

“I can try.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He let go of your hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it as he sighed, “Why not? Why won’t you let me help you?”

You felt your lip begin to wobble. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, Soonyoung.”

He frowned at your words. “Why would I get hurt?”

Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Because I love you, and if you loved me, nothing good would come out of it! I’m not good enough for you!”

You felt a stray tear fall. Perhaps it was too late to hide now. Your voice wavered as much as your confidence did. Because even when you shouted at him, even when you broke his heart, he only looked at you as if you had set the stars in the sky to light his way home on this dark night.

“You’re making me feel things I never thought I could and it’s scary. You changed everything: the sun is suddenly brighter because it reminds me of you, the people I used to deal with regularly are suddenly scarier because I fear they’ll come for you, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad, whether I’m happy or sad. I’m a wreck, and I’m not good for you.”

“You think I don’t feel the same way about you?” he breathed out after a pause, close to tears himself. “Do you have any idea how selfish I used to be? I ran away from my family just because I wanted to prove myself. I’m not even disinherited, I still have access to all that money if I want it – but, instead, I made you live in that shell of an apartment with me because I was too damn proud to ask my parents for help. I’m not any better than you.”

While you reached up to wipe his tears, you gave in to the temptation to run your fingers through his hair: it had grown since you moved together. Blonde and spiky and short when you met, his hair was black and smooth now, almost reaching past his eyes. He looked like a different person all-together – more mature and sure of himself than before. You wondered if you did too.

“You say I changed everything for you,” he spoke softly, leaning his forehead against yours, “but you changed everything for me too. Please don’t take it all away from me now. These past three weeks have been like hell for me. Please make it stop…”

You couldn’t even find any other words to say. Perhaps you really were perfect for each other as Mina had said. Two broken pieces that fit together.

“Can I…” He took a deep breath before whispering, “Can I kiss you? Even if it’s just this once.”

You nodded. His lips found yours barely a moment later, soft and plush, filling you with a warmth you suddenly craved. The kiss was too brief for you liking you found and when he went to regretfully pull away, you pulled him right back.

The doubts you had, faded into nothingness, but the warmth of his embrace remained as his arms wrapped around your body. It was then that you decided to follow your heart instead of your mind.

“I was being dumb, wasn’t I?” you breathed out when the two of you stepped away from one another, arms still lingering. “I’m sorry.”

“You may be dumb, but I’m no better,” he whispered with a light laugh. “So, does this mean you’ll give me– give us a chance?”

You pressed your lips to his again instead of an answer.

[bonus epilogue]

He whined and fell back into the mattress, letting it consume him whole. “Do we need to fix the other bedroom? We can just share this one.”

“Don’t you want your own space?” you wondered while picking your clothes for the day.

“Why would I?” He pouted. “Why would I need my own space when I could just be in yours?”

You groaned at that. Ever since you began dating, he’d been nothing short of affectionate: holding your hands at every chance, hugging, cuddling, kisses, pecks, head pats. And as much as you tried to hate it, it was hard to find it anything other than endearing.

“Okay, but if you don’t want your own bedroom–”

“Correct.”

“–then what should we do with our other bedroom?”

“... a room for our pets?”

“We don’t have any pets,” you told him with a laugh and sat down next to him to play with his hair (a gesture he greatly enjoyed). “All we have is that one houseplant Mina gave us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” He sat up abruptly, eyes shining, a bright smile on his face. “We should get a dog.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“Yes, but it was before we started smooching–”

“I hate that wording.”

“Romantically cuddling?”

“No.”

“Fine, you’re boring. It was before we started dating and I think we’ve grown a lot since then. We’re ready for a kid.”

It appeared your heart was made of soft cotton-candy rather than cold hard stone. You had eased up greatly in the past few months. And so, not even begrudgingly, you sighed and agreed, “We can get a dog.”

He lit up like the 4th of July. “Really?”

“Yes, but it has to be a dog we both like,” you compromised (or so you told yourself to not admit how easily you gave in to him).

“Then we have a reason to make the other room our pet room,” he declared and jumped to his feet. “Let’s get started.”

You laughed. “Now?”

“Yes, now. When else?”

“I don’t know. I’m too tired.” You emphasised your point with a theatrical yawn.

Soonyoung giggled at the sight of you slumping back in the bed and leaned down to press a single kiss to your lips. “Better?”

You pouted and shook your head.

Another kiss, followed by three more. You smiled now and sat up as he gently pulled you by the collar of your sweater.

“Great, then let’s eat some breakfast and get planning.” Leaving you standing in the middle of the bedroom, he walked out. Then he turned once again at the doorway and smiled brightly, as if an idea had struck him right there. “We should name our dog Tiger!”

“We’re not naming our dog Tiger.”

“What about our first-born child then?”

You raised a brow and followed after him. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And yet you love me.”

He sighed deeply. “I do love you.”

A/N: this fic took so long and i am so sorry. the next fic will hopefully be ready faster and it’ll be more fun to read <3

#seventeenweeklyarticle #seventeen x reader #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung scenarios #.avy writes #series: serenity street 17 💙

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myfaveficrecs · 2 years ago

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Creator Spotlight

@thedroneranger has some of the most amazing little worlds they create with the relationships they cultivate within their stories. My current favorite is the To Do List, but don’t just take my word for it. Please head over to their masterlist and show them all the love with likes, comments, and reblogs.

A Little Q & A:

1: What is your favorite thing you've written or made? This is a tough one! Fan fic for me is so self-indulgent, so it’s hard to pick. Right now, I really like Mustache Masquerade. And, my two Bradley fics, You Get Me Closer and Puppies are Forever, were really fun to write.

2: Top 3 favorite creators you want people to check out? So hard to give just three! I’m gonna pick based on what I’m reading right now. @cherrycola27’s masterlist is a treasure trove. Currently, she’s running two series I’m OBSESSED with: Till Death? and To Hec and Back. Also check out her one shots! One of my favorites is Domestic AF.

@chemistryread ( @ikercasllias ) has a Jake fic I literally can’t stop re-reading. It’s not complete yet, but it’s one of my favorite fics in the fandom. I actually found her because she wrote a Rhett Abbott fic that has just as much of a chokehold on me. Content comes in many forms, so I want to mention @babyrooster and @unicornships. The visual content they create and curate provides a lot of the organic, real-time interaction within the fandom. I interact with something from each of them at least once a day. Truly, this list could go on and on!

3: An idea you have for a future work that people should look out for? Ooh, my WIPs are overflowing. I’ll have two entries for @roosterforme’s Love is in the Air challenge. Of course, one Jake and one Bradley. Gotta do right by my Seresin Girlies and Bradshaw Baddies™️. Something outside my wheelhouse is I have a one shot idea for Bob that I’m fleshing out, so Bobby Gals stay tuned. Working title is Bob vs. B.O.B. 😏 There’s also a Rhett Abbott WIP kicking about for the Lewis Pullman fans reading this. It would focus on Rhett as a bull rider. Plenty of angst. Lastly, I have a few Javy ideas whirling around. Writing about Jake’s bestie seems like a natural next step to exploring other characters in the TGM universe.

@roosterscock

@roosterforme

@bradshawsbitch

@jupitercomet

@seresinhangmanjake

@fandomxpreferences

@wildbornsiren

@babyrooster

@gretagerwigsmuse

@ohtobeleah

@callsign-marlie

@callsign-milano

@callsign-phoenix

@call-sign-jinx

@oncasette

@topguncortez

@topgun-imagines

@roleycoleyreccenter

@call-sign-shark

@cherrycola27

@thedroneranger

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways

@roosterbruiser

@teacupsandtopgun

@endofdays56

#promote creators #creator spotlight #tgm

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zorilleerrant · 4 months ago

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Hmm. I'm going to sort mine.

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

really bad pun

“Song title (and the rest of the song title)”

A singular word that you don’t recognize, then the definition is the summary

Movie reference Non-musical media reference

Clever double-layer meaning

Help I’ve never titled anything in my life I don’t know what this is I just want it to be out of my hands and posted neither you nor I will ever be pleased with this

I currently have 115 fics on Ao3. Using the above criteria, I’ve determined by own naming predilections.

1: Fifteen. Named for what it says on the tin, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with it, or because naming it the obvious thing is just what makes sense.

(The Hogwarts Gender Union; A Cure For Ohan; Pineapple Pizza; Third Sister; Captain Marvel's Day at the Beach; Are You. You Know. Adopted?; 5 times Marcus hated superheroes and 1 time he didn't; A dog might have got blipped! NOT CLICKBAIT; Harry Potter in: The Batfam Goes To Therapy; Another Loki; Truth or Dare; Heir of Slytherin; Seventh Son; The Yule Ball; Conversations Between a Father and Son)

2: Twenty-two. This makes sense because this is what I think of as a 'normal' title and tend to aim for.

(Growth Like A Nurtured Vine; Providing for the Future; In Every Reading Room; Keep The Hearthfires Burning; The Platitude Against The Wall; A Place To Rest Your Head; To Honor A Debt; What We Learn In Chinese School; In The Mythic Tradition; Half Gay/Half Straight; Even A Broken Clock; On Loan from the Wayne Family Collection; This Changes Nothing; Just a Perfectly Normal Rabbit; Five Degrees West; Narcissus at the River's Edge; Educational Overnight; Everybody Makes Mistakes; Forever Home; Small Town Mentality; Best Hadron Collider; Father of the Year)

3: Seven. Way more than I thought, honestly. I use lyrics when I'm struggling to title because it's in the genre tradition.

(but my dreams they aren't as empty; They Call Me Her; I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon; it's a love story baby just say yes; Good Girls Stay Alive; You're gonna go far, kid; Love Will Tear Us Apart)

4: Zero. The longer a title gets the more antsy it makes me, so I tend to avoid long titles.

5: Seventeen. I used to use these a lot to get easy titles, but then I realized I had no idea what fic that was when it got a kudos, so now I only use a single word if it's unique enough that I can remember why I'd name something that.

(Faildeadly; Anabasis; Y-incision; Proprioception; Change!; Anathema; Terrible; Protest; Marathon; Frieda; Worry; Answers; Parabatai; Courage; Besties; Ferret; Babyproofing)

6: Zero. I've only got the one super long fic and it's got the more obvious song naming instead.

7: Ten. Bad puns... or really good puns? Hmm?

(Faire's Fare; Just Monkey Business; When Pigs Fly; Robin's Egg Blue; Ace Shot; The Magic Word; Gift of the Magpie; Attraction; Captain America's Gay Fling; Swearing a Red, White, and Blue Streak)

8: Zero. I just don't like the format.

9: Zero. It always feels condescending to me to assume people don't know a word, so I try not to define them.

10: Twenty-five. Referential titles are an easy go-to for me. I did notice several of them either took a quote directly from canon or used a titling/title card convention from canon, so I wonder if that should be a separate category, or two different ones. I'm also uncertain whether mythology/folklore references should be considered 'media references', or maybe grouped in with titles taken from aphorisms and sayings. Do enough people quote Shakespeare to give him his own category?

(One Face, One Voice, One Habit, and Two Persons; Tendi and T'Lyn at Their Table; Red Bean Buns of Destiny; Does Talia Have A Sister?; Who Gets To Decide Her Own Damn Fate; The Excellent Adventures of Keanu Rhesus; My Concealed Lady; Stabby the SecUnit; Rapidly Expanding Air; The Monkey or The Egg; Words, words, words; And the Mischief of Monkey; In the Museums of the Night; Auntie Yelena Saves Christmas; Dick Grayson, College Student; Meanwhile, At Gotham Grace; Animorty Cricksing: New Pants; Better Together; Don't Call Me Nymphadora; Brightest Witch of Her Age; Just Tonks; Not Always in the Same Way; No Flamz Prepz; A Fish Without A Bicycle; The Boy)

11: Eight. I'll be honest I assumed I'd have more of these because I do love multi-layered meanings. I try hard to achieve them but I'd say they're the most difficult sort of title.

(A Great Deal; Just a Moment of Peace; The Family You Build; Where There's Life There's Hope; Love Like A Sister's; Coffee or Tea?; Brain Freeze; Something that Starts with a P)

12: Eleven. Yeah. Sometimes I struggle with a title for so long I just give up and name it whatever pops into my head....

(Billy Batson in the Wrong Dimension; Incentive Structure; The Burden of the Sword; One Last Kryptonian; An Island Paradise; The Superhero Code; What Makes A Hero; Happy Year of the Tiger; The Smallest Details; Plot Armor; A Better Mousetrap)

types of fic titles

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

#look i said something

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flowersdaggersviolasandblood · 1 year ago

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Blood, Flesh, and Tears

Name: Torment (He/Him)

Race: Zariel Tiefling

Class: Paladin (Oath of Vengence)

Background: Haunted One

It's been a minute! I had all the shots for this playthrough, but I decided to not touch on Torment just yet. Mainly because of the exhaustion of work and I just recently got the Warhammer 40000: Rogue Trader game and just been CONSUMED by that. Don't expect a progress blog about that tho lmao. I actually just want to play that game for myself. Since it has been a minute, there are some fleeting memories, but I do have a good idea of what has happened to Torment since last game.

As with Pero & Admaer (and soon Nalanthar), we discover that the one who has been protecting us from the parasite was a fellow Mindflayer. Despite Torment's basic instinct to kill the creature, he complied with gritted teeth and assisted the Emperor. The Emperor explains their history and offers us a astral parasite to enhance and evolve ourselves, giving us extra mindflayer type powers and making us Half-Illithid. Now, I WAS going to let Torment evolve originally. I believe that Torment would want to become stronger to take over the Absolute, but there something else there as well. His Dark Urge instinct would want Torment to become stronger so that he could kill people in more fun and innovative way. However, I decided to back out of it...Because I didn't think it looked pretty on Torment lmao. A transformation like that gotta fit the vibes and look, and it didn't make the cut. So, Torment remains as it, for now. Because we didn't do Lae'zel's side quest where we get her to turn against Vlaakith, she informs Torment of Orpheus and how we will need to kill him to ensure Vlaakith stays in power; completely oblivious to the truth about his origins. We also got to see Shadowheart change her hair from black to white since she now knows that Shar is not her bestie. Torment likes to new look :D.

Reaching Rivington, we see the refugees and the homestayers in conflict due to the armies of the Absolute coming to town. We were able to keep the family at the nobles house (Arfur Gregorio), but Torment was able to sus out that the nobleman was hiding something. After helping the homeless family, now that I had Astarion in the party, we discovered a hidden basement that had various toys and fireworks lying about. But we discover something terrifying! Apparently, someone wanted to rig the toymaker's (Arfur) toys and even convinced the sick man to do so. That way, it would harm the refugee citizens. With this discovered, we were able to tell the Flaming Fist and prevent a tragedy (got my ass blown up tho lmao).

Exploring around town, we gain some interesting Orin dialogue moments. She constantly calls Torment sibling and asks various questions, as if seeing if we're as feral and bloodthirsty as her. This time around, she disguised herself as a blacksmith (locked the grumpy old man in the closet lol) and as a Flaming Fist right outside the refugee supply barn. Oh, you can also speak with a pig...That pig scared me honestly. They looked like they were up to no good. Also, this was the first time I found a blacksmith in town with THE MOST ADORABLE DRAGONBORN! Her name is Exxvikyap and she's so cute! Wanna give her headpats!

Further exploring the place, we are met with some Tieflings outside a holy house of Ilmater, the god of endurance, martyrdom, perseverance, and suffering. We learn from the priests that a high priest, Father Lorgan, was murdered after welcoming a trouble individual, Brilgor, into the church and providing them aid; in hopes that they would be redeemed and live a better life. However, Brilgor, based on what the flying elephant, Valeria, says, he then proceeded to kill themselves after committing the murder. Many of the priest, specifically sister Yannis, believes there must've been a misunderstanding.

Torment decides to step in and provide assistance, being a Paladin of the law and wanting to see justice for Father Lorgan if there has been a possible misunderstanding.

After exploring that much, it was time we went eepy and consider selling some stuff. While laying low, the one interaction that I wanna talk about the most is Astarions interactions. Torment decided to come forward about the evolved parasite and wanted to hear Astarion's opinions. To his surprise, Astarion was now more hesitant to utilize the parasite further. He explained that before, he thought there were no consequences to consuming the brainworms, but learning that evolving from their current state brings them closer to becoming a Mindflayer. I find it saddening that Astarion already didn't have any control or say over his own body, and he was already changed and turned into a Vampire Spawn; he doesn't want to become anything else.

But this night is only beginning! Because we discover something damning about ourselves!

We learn, AT LAST, what we are; a Bhaalspawn! For those who are uninitiated with the BG3 games, a Bhaalspawn is a creature who is a sired mortal offspring of Bhaal, the god of murder, violence, and ritualistic killings. They have been known to exists since the first and second game and they've always been evil (primarily because they were the main or secondary antagonist of the previous games compared to now where you CAN play the Bhaalspawn as a potential hero), but with Torment, he's become the rare exception since he's been fighting his urge.

But he's clearly not the only one, Orin, is also a Bhaalspawn. Which explains why she constantly calls Torment brother whenever they interact. With this revelation, Torment, instead of falling into despair or accepting his heritage, Torment is now filled with new vigorous defiance. He has survived and conquered his urge more than once. Now knowing the source of his bloodlust, he now see this as a newfound motivation and reason to defeat the Deadly Three...Yet, he's also considering that perhaps he may have to go down with them as well.

While Torment has been able to fight the Dark Urge, he knows that everyday will become an ongoing struggle to keep himself from killing people, innocent and villainous. Especially in such a big city such as Baldur's Gate where there's various cherries ripe for the picking. He will not let his godly father's creations live to harm others, and that will mean (potentially) he will have to die.

In the morning, Torment was hesitant on whom he could share this revelation with. He already was on a thin string with his companions thanks to his urge and revealing his heritage would spell disaster. But there was one person he trusted more than anyone in the party.

Torment decided to have a 1-on-1 with Astarion. When we approached him, Astarion brought up that Torment wasn't sleeping well and asked if the urge was becoming an issue again. With shaky breathes, Torment came forward with his discovery. Torment felt like the whole world was at a stand still as he awaited Astarion's reaction, which he was relieved to see Astarion, albeit surprised, but also sympathetic to his heritage. I absolutely loved Astarion's moment here because he not only comes to terms with Torment being a Bhaalspawn, but also relates his urge to his situation with Cazador.

Both individuals who were enslaved to their previous masters (Torment to Bhaal, his servants, and his bloodthirst. Then Astarion to Cazador his his dark wills) who has escaped their captors; trying to survive in a world who would reasonably hate them (a Bhaalspawn & a Vampire Spawn). And they're both trying to get back at the ones who hurt them.

Astarion encourages Torment to fight not only his urge, but the ones who brought him pain before. Now, I may have messed something up with Astarion's romance (probably started all the way back when Torment backed out of going down and dirty with Astarion back in ACT 1), but I just want to imagine that this was the moment that Torment solidified his love for Astarion and just kisses him >///<

That will be it for a LONG ASS TIME because I'm now on that Rogue Trader grind lol.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #the dark urge #bg3: the dark urge #the dark urge: torment

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attic-club-sandwich · 2 years ago

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🔮✨💫Thank you for 100 Followers! 💫✨🔮

I'm so happy to have reached this milestone! Thank you to all my amazing and lovely mutuals and followers! I wanted to do a mini Follow Forever with some of the people that have made my time in the fandom so much fun!

💌Attic-Club-Besties💌

@delphi-dreamin ✬ @itsmeninerz ✬@tazzyboo ✬

.. and some blogs I really love and look up to!

@asmos-pet ✬ @barbatoss-teabag-leaves ✬ @beels-burger-babe ✬ @brionnne ✬ @belphieslilcow ✬ @cypherleaf ✬ @eternallydaydreaming2015 ✬ @etherealbelphie ✬ @graveswrites @i-slept-for-13hours-ohshi ✬ @leavesandflowers ✬ @leviathans-watching ✬ @leechlips ✬ @moinstar ✬ @moemoemammon ✬ @obeythisass ✬ @pridecomethbeforethefall ✬ @property-of-diavolo ✬ @sandwichbokuroo ✬ @sassykattery ✬ @the-ghost-of-panda ✬

✨Follower Celebration Event:✨

Rules:

I'd appreciate it soooo much (seriously i'll cry) if you'd go check out my recent works. Reblogging is appreciated but not necessary.

To Ascend Again

Masterlist

You also must follow/be following me to participate!

Moodboards 🌠 (Obey Me themed only):

Send me an ask or message including:

If you want your MC or a Character

Color Scheme or aesthetic

OR a description/photo (or both) of your MC

Writing 📓 (Obey Me only): Feel free to send me a prompt or an idea for a short one shot! This will be my first time doing a writing request so be patient and soft with me T_T

Include the character you want (None of the new characters: Mephisto, Thirteen, or Raphael. I don't know them too well yet!) but any others are fine.

No Smut. Suggestive is fine, but nothing too graphic. I'm just not too comfy writing it yet!

Make sure to tell me if you want your MC included. You may want to provide me with details about them though!

Doodles ✏️ (Obey Me only):

I'll do a quick little pencil doodle of anything you want! Your MC, a character, just send a suggestion!

Once again nothing too graphic or anything like that lol

Make sure to give me details if you include your MC

If i'm feeling ambitious i may color it too!

Thank you guys again for all of your support! It's been such a fun time in the Obey Me fandom!

#milestone event #100 followers #the attic club is getting bigger #i'm so happy #thank you guys so much #i love everyone i've met on here so far!!#obey me #obey me blog #obey me! one master to rule them all #my posts #letters from the attic #cass's 100 follower event

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abbynx · 3 years ago

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Things I think about

Ahhhh just a random compilation of thoughts and drabbles I have of JoJo characters because I like day dreaming to avoid feeling the full extent of my daunting existence.

Warning: Language, spoilers for Stone Ocean, descriptions of mild gore

~ Imagine like Speedwagon constantly donating funds from the Speedwagon foundation into orphanages, schools, juvenile facilities, rehabilitation and such

I like to think Speedwagon foundation picks top students from impoverished areas and provide them scholarships to attend one of the most prestigious schools

Just... Speedwagon wanting to help the less fortunate, especially children and teens coming from rough parts of environments warms my heart ya know?

~ OKAY BUT IMAGINE ONE OF THE THREE TORTURE DANCE BOYS SERENADING YOU, DANCING AND EVERYTHING

Okok, I've been watching 21 Chump Street and got to the part where the protagonist was going off about how he asked this girl out to the prom by serenading her with a dance, and the Torture dance boys came to mind

Maybe not all of them will fit the mold of serenading their s/o/crush with a dance (*cough* Fugo) but hey it's JoJo's bizarre adventure

Just... Picture these boys performing the torture dance while asking you out to prom/date/MARRIAGE, I'd accept right then and there ✊😩

~ I've thought about this since I first encounter this character— Aya Tsuji and the goddess she is, helping out a client (I typically envision X reader ideas, so I guess that client is a Y/N) about loving themselves.

Like, this client goes to the chair and Aya notices the lack of love they have for themselves. Them they asked her if it's possible if they can find love within themselves. Aya was slightly taken aback at how unconventional the request is, but she is a fairy godmother, of course she'll help you out!

She didn't use Cinderella on you and instead just gave you a goody bag filled with self care items, plus snacks and her number because now she's not just your fairy god mother, but your bestie 💅

BUT I, A BI, INSISTS THIS TO BE ROMANCE

But I thought that would defeat the purpose of the message of what I'm trying to get across so yeah. But it can be romantic if the reader wishes it to read that way!

~ I've been thinking waaaaay too much about a character I'd love to insert in La Squadra— the extremely girly, catty mean girl you'd see but is actually sweet and smart. I always envision her getting into a heated discussion about what she wears with Prosciutto, wherein you'd think that Pro is arguing with her because he's slut shaming her, when in reality he's just looking out for her...

"GODDAMN IT YOU'RE WEARING A TWELVE INCHED STILETTO'S AND YOU'RE POSSIBLY FACING GUNFIRES AND STANDS!"

Just, La Squadra knows she can handle herself, but will jump at people and throw hands if rando peeps slut shame her.

Idk why, but I envisioned her back getting stuck in Ghiaccio's ice and in panic, she squirms and peels herself from the ice, the skin of her back getting peeled off. Her skin gets grafted and for awhile, she feels insecure about it. She loved wearing backless apparels and after her accident, she no longer wore them. She couldn't even wear tank tops at how insecure she was.

After accepting herself, she's taken to wear backless apparels again and actually got her whole back tattooed with black and pink intricate artwork.

~ I also had this one-shot fic in mind featuring Polnareff and his more protective brotherly side. Like, I had this idea of him hitting on a young teen in a bar and mistook them for an adult and when he finds out, he freaks out because you're not supposed to be there because you're basically a baby. His flirty self gets a full 180 as he transforms as this concerned mother hen who will push you out the bar and take you to your mom or something

~ Maybe this is just me projecting, but Josuke being understanding when you reject his feelings and you can't have a relationship with him because your parents are strict. So even if you love him back, you still can't commit because you fear and respect your parents to obey them. Might be an Asian thing, but eh, that's currently my case.

BUT JOSUKE BEING UNDERSTANDING AND WILL RESPECT YOUR DECISION! I know it's like bare minimum BUT GODDAMN IT I LOVE THIS BOY

And after that he won't even ghost you 😭

~ I've had this idea for a Jolyne one-shot, wherein reader has always been friends with Jolyne (and *cough* has feelings for her). I picture this friendship between two unlikely people, with reader being a top student and perfect attendance and good manners, whilst Jolyne is... Jolyne.

Like omg— Jolyne being her cute adorable self with you after she threatened some guy to knock his front tooth in when he took your spot in the cafeteria or something lmao

Reader being highkey jealous when Romeo and Jolyne are together, especially when Jolyne is very clingy and openly affectionate to him. Reader then resorts to passive aggressive attitude when interacting with Romeo, but Jolyne chalks it up to you being stressed in getting to college.

Okok, onto the plot, Reader is studying is to be lawyer when Jolyne gets arrested. Reader, the ever so loving friend, decided to get arrested so that they can be with Jolyne. They did not do some thinking at all, and just got themself arrested just to see Jolyne again.

You were informed how her boyfriend Romeo, the person she has always babbled about and how she loves him, betrayed her. She claims of attempts to declare her innocence and yet no one listened to her. Knowing she needs someone by her side, you immediately got yourself arrested.

This is perhaps around the part where Anasui is making the moves on her and WHOO boi, he has the big mad for you, threatning to kill you and all. But knowing Jolyne would be upset, he resorts to just belittling you when Jolyne has her back turned.

"Lawyer, huh? Why didn't you just set her free with that fancy little degree of yours? Instead you chose to be selfish and see her in prison." Or stuff like that.

And reader, the number 1 Jolyne simp responds to him that shuts him up. Can't think of it yet tbh.

Basically a love triangle but you're obviously winning lmao

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Lipstick

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: borderline nsfw like I thought real hard about it, weapons, talks of murder, slight spoilers for resident evil 8

Author’s Note: just impulsively wrote this and am posting it promptly after writing so it has not been edited. Besties im down bad about this sarcastic basterd (also if anyone wants a nsfw part 2...i am willing to provide) (or any other requests for him and Alcina, my favorite bi panic people rn)

Summary: You run into Ethan in Castle Dimitrescu on your way back to the factory.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Ethan Winters genuinely just wanted his daughter back. He was so sick and tired of going through this village in an attempt to save her, running into every possible inconvenience he could find and knowing that he would probably lose fingers fighting them.

Castle Dimitrescu was vast and regal. He might have liked it if he wasn’t running for his and his daughters' lives from the four vampires that lived there.

He was crouched down, holding a gun up as he walked very quietly and carefully throughout the house so as to not alert any of the Dimitrescu daughters. He opened one of the unlocked doors carefully and immediately stopped moving at the sight of someone.

You wore no cloak, to signify that you were a daughter and you were much shorter than the lady of the house. You grabbed one of the lipsticks that Alicna had plenty of and leaned over the vanity to see how it looked on you.

Ethan stood up and held the gun up to your head. You raised an eyebrow, looking at him from the mirror reflection.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice rough. Rougher than his face looked. You put on the lipstick and then rubbed your lips together.

“Do you think this is my color?” He shoved the gun further into your head and you scoffed. “Fine fine. Not one for makeup eh?” You put your hands up and turned around. He let you sit down on the vanity but not without his gun still pointing at your skull. You seemed unphased which would have been weird if Ethan wasn’t incredibly desensitized to everything ever.

“Who are you? Are you one of the vampires? One of the other family members? Who are you?!” You put your hands slowly down on your lap. He let you, but you were testing his patience.

“Not quite.” You gestured to him. “I’m human. Like you. Well not like you, I’m completely human, no mutations or anything done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hissed. You waved him off.

“If you hurt me, you will have Karl on your head and I imagine it won’t be pretty. It’s the only way I can get from Castle to Castle unharmed,” you told him.

“Karl?”

“You know, fun hat, frizzy hair, has that big hammer thing. Karl.”

“Heisenberg?” You nodded.

“Yes Ethan, I thought you were smarter than this.” Ethan shook his head quickly and then regained focus, his hand holding the gun shaking a bit.

“Where’s Rose?” You shrugged.

“Fuck if I know Ethan Winters. I’m just the person who lives in a factory and becomes a nuisance for each and every Lord.” He jabbed the gun at your head and you didn’t even flinch.

“You’re lying.”

“Truthfully, I am not. If I knew where Rose was I would at least give you a hint, just to make it interesting.”

“What is Heisenberg to you?” he asked. You smiled a bit, crossing your legs.

“I’m Heisenberg's...girlfriend for lack of a better word. Whatever Mia was to you.” His mind flashed back to Mia. He had barely been able to mourn her. He shook the thought out of his head.

“You know how to get out of here and get Rose yes?”

“I know how to get out of here. How to get Rose, I have no idea. We’ve been over this.”

“But Heisenberg knows and if I can bring you to him, he can tell me.” You shook your head gently.

“Ethan sweetie...I could call for Alcina or the girls at any time and they would be in here in seconds to tear you to pieces.”

“Not before I could pull this trigger.”

“Again, if you so much as scratch me, you’ll never breath non metal infused air again.” Ethan shook his head gently and took a deep breath. He grabbed the gun at you again. He was silent and then he lowered it.

“I’ll just be going then,” he muttered, defeated. You nodded pleasantly and stood up from sitting on the vanity. You put the lipstick back on it. You walked forward and put your hand on Ethan’s shoulder. He looked you in the eyes.

“Good luck Ethan Winters.” You started to leave but turned to him. “I do suggest that in order to save your daughter you don’t kill Alicna’s in the process.”

“Any bits of advice then?” You put your hand on the doorknob and turned it, opening it just a tad.

“Grab the masks for the main room. Do you have a map?” He handed it to you, a tattered old piece of paper. You grabbed the lipstick again and marked some places. “Avoid hurting them as much as you can.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t like Mother Miranda. I don’t trust Mother Miranda. She is the one who has your daughter I’m sure or she must know where she is. But the Dimitrescus and Karl...even Donna for that matter, are people I like and trust.”

You stepped back outside the room.

“If I hear you’ve killed any of the daughters, I’ll tell them what I know of you. If you think the Dimitrescus are scary, just wait until you meet Donna.”

You shut the door in his face. Ethan shivered.

====

You walked up the stairs to the second floor. You knocked on the door of Alcinas room and she swang it open. She took a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. I thought you were Ethan Winters.”

“You think Ethan would knock before coming in?” She scoffed. You held her the lipstick you were wearing.

“Where did you find that?”

“Downstairs where I ran into Ethan,” you said honestly. Her eyes went wide and her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Did you see the girls?”

“No but I’m sure one of them ran into him as he left the room. He was only there a couple of minutes ago, it shouldn't be that hard to find him.” She walked past you without saying goodbye. You huffed. “You’re welcome!”

=====

You made it back to the factory in just a couple of minutes. You had gotten so used to the walk that you were on autopilot the whole time before you were back to your room. Karl was already there, clearly taking a quick break before returning to his never ending work day.

“Where did you go?!” he asked, walking up to you from the bathroom. He put his hand on your arm and you grabbed his glasses which were hanging from his shirt. He had shed the jacket and hat, clearly about to shower.

“Relax, I was just at Alcinas castle,” you told him gently. He let out an annoyed exaggerated sigh that you knew all too well.

“How is my sister?” he asked. You took the lipstick out of your pocket. Alcina hadn’t actually taken it in her fit of rage to go and get Ethan. Now you had something extra for your own personal vanity back at the factory.

“Shy of one more lipstick.” You walked past him into the bathroom. He followed you as you placed it carefully on your vanity. You admired it for a second with a smile on your face. You wrapped an arm around yourself and turned back to him. You hoisted yourself onto the bathroom counter. “I ran into Ethan Winters.”

His face, which had been admiring your new addition to the vanity which was full of stolen things and things he had acquired for you, turned sour. Karl put his hand on your arm and raised it, checking your side and arm for injuries.

“I told you not to leave the room until he was caught,” he grumbled. He was trying to act like he hadn’t been worried about you from the second he realized you were gone. He was trying to ignore the fact that he himself almost stomped to each of the Lord’s castles to make sure you were alright. He didn’t want you to run into Ethan Winters, that was his worst nightmare. Ethan didn’t have any regard for you. Ethan just wanted Rose. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head.

“No. He asked me if I knew where Rose was and held a gun to my head but in the end we parted ways peacefully.”

“You could have brought him back here,” he muttered.

“I told Alcina where he was. I figured she could take care of him. You already had your shot.” He rolled his eyes and his grip on your arm tightened.

“You could have been seriously hurt. The Lord’s won’t hurt you but Mother Miranda might, Ethan might have.” You brought your free hand up to his cheek and leaned forward so your lips were just barely brushing over his.

“I can take care of myself.” He pressed a harsh kiss against your lips and made a low groaning noise. He let go of your arm to grab your leg and part them so that he could stand between your thighs. He dipped his head to kiss you and you pressed your body against him, feeling every inch of his breathing.

There was a harsh rasp at the door and he pulled away. You grabbed his neck and shook his head, kissing his jaw and peppering kisses down his neck.

“Come on, Mother Miranda doesn’t need you that bad,” you whispered. You pressed a long kiss to his jaw again and he had to physically tear himself away, however much it pained him.

“She might,” he grumbled. You held him until he moved too far away for you to. You groaned and put your head against the wall beside the mirror.

“Maybe I should go and find Ethan Winters again to finish the job. I mean he may only have eight fingers but he’s stayed alive this long and-” He grabbed your arm that was waving around as you spoke and looked you dead in the eyes.

“I will finish the job. You just sit tight kitten.” You kissed his knuckles and then let him go.

“Better be quick Karl. I get very restless very easily.”

He put on his hat and coat (the opposite of either of you wanted in the moment) and slammed the door in frustration against Mother Miranda behind him.

You took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long.

NSFW Part 2

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines

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flowerslut · 2 years ago

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Hello! Do you mind telling about your writing process? Like, how exactly do you outline the chapters, and do you ever lost the excitement about a story bucause the idea of it was better than the thing itself?

hello there!!! you're in luck because boy oh boy do I have a nice in-depth answer for this one. time to introduce to you what I now affectionately call DayDreamLand

(glitter text provided because it felt necessary for emphasis)

now, I'm someone who writes long-fic by default. I've managed to successfully spit out shorter fics over the past few years (ranging from around 8-10k on the low side and 20-25k on the 'high end') but those fics very rarely, if ever, get outlined or planned-out. most of those smaller fics (why yes I am calling 20k words of North Star small) are stories that I pretty much just sit down and throw up out of my brain. there is no process for those other than: daydream, daydream HARD, and then once the daydream is bubbling inside my brain, sit down, pick a starting point, and write. (unhelpful advice, isn't it?)

with my long-fic I have only recently started following a strict outline for my stories! and the way that I get this outline put together is by doing the exact same thing as I do for any of my stories: I buy a one-way ticket to DayDreamLand baby!!!!

I think that's the thing I spend the most time on if you don't include the actual writing itself: I think and think and think about the idea until it sparks so much joy in my heart that I have to put it down on paper; or, more appropriately, in an iphone note. I usually know once I'm ready to take an idea from DayDreamLand to the physical world we inhabit once I get to the point where emotionally, I feel like I'm going to burst if I don't start writing SOMETHING down.

and if I'm looking to elevate this from a little one-shot or short-fic to a full-blown Long-Fic that is the point in which I start an outline. every single one of my outlines starts as a bullet pointed list. sometimes there are gaps in the list where I imagine a scene break/transition or a new chapter might occur. sometimes the things I write in the outline don't even happen the way they're outlined. but the outline is just the bones of it. you can build on top of those bones in whatever way feels right or works for your scene.

(the rest of this answer is going under a cut bc boy is this shit going to get long. sorry bestie)

here's a snippet from my Call of the Night outline from march 2018 as an example:

in my outlines I take the scenes I want to see, plan them out like you see above, and then suddenly anywhere from 3-20 bullet points of 'outline' becomes a multi-thousand word chapter while I build on those bones and fill in all the blanks and let the action and dialogue erupt from the scene I've set.

I am someone that writes and plans stories in chronological order approximately 95% of the time. but even despite this I usually know the answer to three things from the very start:

what is the main conflict?

what is the point of no return?

how does it end?

for example, in Call of the Night, my main conflict is that Alice's first vision of Jasper is a terrible one in which he kills her. the point of no return is when Maria's broadcast goes live. and it ends when Alice finally 'lives out' her vision.

in A Loyal Wife, the main conflict is that Alice is in an army down South but still sees visions of Jasper, who belongs to a warring coven. point of no return: when she first kisses Jasper. how does it end? she kills her 'husband'.

for me the main conflict is the one plot point that quite literally haunts nearly every scene. sometimes there are multiple of these and they do overlap but they usually all link back to one main plot point. (sometimes the main conflict isn't introduced until the point of no return and sometimes it's present for the entire story)

the point of no return is—and I am certain there is an actual literary term for this that I don't know about—the point in the story where you can mark a sharp sudden change that alters the entire pace and mood of the story. this is what gets the story MOVING! perhaps the main conflict arrives suddenly on the scene, or the emotional tone veers off course in a way that gets your adrenaline pumping or your anxiety going. when you're at the point of no return the pressure is on. it's go time baby!!!

and when I say how does it end I don't mean "what does the very last scene look like" although it can be that. for me it means "what happens during the climax of this story" and "how does the main conflict get resolved."

once I have those major details sorted—and usually I only receive these answers and these details from spending hours and hours in DayDreamLand—I'm able to really connect my outline. very rarely will I outline later parts of a fic before I get to it chronologically but I've been trying different systems recently, and honestly if you know the ending before you know the middle, go ahead and write down what that might look like! I personally tend not to do that because I usually shift gears and change details so often during the beginning and middle that the end has to be Vastly Different anyways (minus the answer to question number 3) but I know so many people that outline and plan out of order and it works well for them. so really I think you should do it in the order that feels right to you. and if that gives you trouble, try switching it up a bit!

my current project's outline has provided me with so many goddamn chapters. I quite literally have FIFTY-FIVE chapters outlined, THIRTY-THREE written and I'm either around or almost at the half-way mark. outlining has helped me write faster and more efficiently than I ever have before but holy fuck does it not help me determine how long a story is going to be lmfaoooo

sorry this has gotten so long but I'll go ahead and wrap this up with referring to the second part of your question: I don't think I've ever gotten bored with an idea before while writing. I don't usually start writing until I've gone so far into DayDreamLand that I can't not write something, yknow??? if it's not exciting enough I'm not even going to try to write it. (sometimes there are exciting stories that want me to go study them in DayDreamLand but I outright refuse to because I have too many damn WIPs at this point)

I actually usually find that the opposite of what you mentioned is true for me!!! once I have a fun idea and once I start writing, the story itself becomes more and more exciting as I start to flesh out all of the characters, their individual motivations, the world, everything!!!!!! once it starts coming to life is when I get more excited. the only times I've ever felt my excitement begin to wane while writing is when my overall fixation is waning, too. or in the case of my CotN series, when I just need a breather because I've spat so many words out in that universe already. (although the excitement is still there; just dormant while I focus on other stuff atm)

I recommend long, extended stays in DayDreamLand in order to let your brain properly marinate the idea that you're tossing around in there, that way when you start outlining or writing you're pretty much bursting at the seams and so so so intensely ready to just WRITE baby!!!!!

this might not have helped because I got a bit sidetracked, but I hope it did!!! buy your tickets and book your stay in DayDreamLand today!!!

#writing #cotn #ffr

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enmerald · 2 years ago

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Heyy bestie! Ik this isn’t a minghao ask but I just wanted to say… I loved your Dino imagine and I NEED a part 2 😫🙏 ❤️

first of all, thank you! i'm glad you loved it!

secondly, omg i forgot i put that! i didn’t think anyone would send an ask so i put it as a joke. please feel free to ask anything :)

honestly i intended for it to be only one part but since you asked, my brain already has some ideas so i’ll try my best to fulfill your wish!

[ 05:41 ]

"love?" a deep, husky voice groggily whispered into your ear. you tried to roll over unto your back but a muscular arm wrapped around your waist held you tightly back against a hard chest.

"hmm? it's too early chan, go back to sleep."

you felt chan mutter against your hair and you smiled.

it was the morning after your second anniversary and you could feel you lower region ache from the strenuous activities the two of you participated in last night. you had been a little to excited and chan being the whipped man that he was, complied with your every whim.

in all honesty, ever since your divorce from your ex-husband, you were hesitant to start dating again, especially when chan was too eager to "court" you, as he liked to call it.

however, you were more than glad that chan was willing to wait for you to be ready. he never pressured you to rush things, even if that meant he had to start from square one.

"chan look out!" you exclaimed right as chan was about to be shot down by the enemy in call of duty. he screeched as he ducked behind you, causing you to die in place of him.

you felt your eye twitch.

"lee chan! if you don't stop being a coward and hiding behind me every time you are about to be killed, i'll tell wonwoo to replace you as my gaming buddy."

chan immediately clung unto you like a baby, looking at you with puppy eyes and pouting at you.

"but y/n!" he whined, "you promised to protect me from anything!"

"that does not include video games, you small otter!"

you gently slapped his arm and attempted to remove his grip on your waist but he only wrapped his arms tighter around you.

you looked at him, a feeling of fondness washing over you as you saw how this adult-baby clung unto you almost 24/7. you would have thought that from your first meeting, that chan would be against any type of physical affection but he proved you wrong when he would constantly shower you with hugs and cuddles whenever he could.

you smiled as you remembered the beginning of your friendship with chan. back when you were still reluctant to accept any type of physical contact, let alone a confession from him. and yet, you were beginning to fall for him even if he was oblivious to it.

"chan, i want to say first and foremost, thank you for being so patient with me when you could have just left me to deal with my heartbreak by myself and find a significant other that isn't as broken as i am—"

"y/n, i'm going to ask you to be quiet for a moment." chan grabbed your hands, forcing you to stop blabbering as his warm fingers wrapped around your cold ones.

"but..." you traced off when you saw the stern look chan sent you.

"you are the most wonderful person i have ever had the pleasure to meet. yeah, you're right. i could have left you to alone and find someone who wasn't so persistent on being slow with things but the truth is, the moment we met, i fell for you. i couldn't stand the sight of someone so vulnerable crying by themselves so i decided to invite you over to my apartment because i wanted to be the one to comfort you. i wanted to be the one to hold you close to my chest as you cried to let out your negative feelings. i wanted to be the one you chose to live your life with. so never speak so bad of yourself, you provided me with a ray of hope in this cruel world and i want you to know that if it weren't for you, i'd probably be homeless right now."

by the time chan stopped speaking, your eyes were already brimmed with tears. your heart swelled at the words chan spoke. you couldn't believe you have been given a second chance at love. and with a wonderful man at that.

"thank you so much chan."

you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss.

"sometimes i wonder why you chose to wait for me, but i'm glad you haven't given up on me. chan, would you be willing to accept me as i am? are you willing to start a new chapter of my life with me?"

chan smiled warmly at you and replied, "y/n, no matter how much you have gone through or how much you'll continue to change as you grow older, i'll be willing to be there every step of the way."

tears ran down your face but you didn't care as you leaned forward once again and pressed your lips against chan's, your salty tears falling in between the kiss.

"y/n? why are you crying?" chan's groggy voice brought you back to reality.

you wiped your tears, surprised you started to cry at the memory.

"remember when i asked you to become a part of my life? not as my friend but as my lover?" you sniffled.

chan nuzzled into your neck as he hummed.

"i remember. that was our first kiss and i remember feeling so happy finally being able to be with the person who mattered most to me."

you giggled from his nose tickling you. however, there was something you wanted to ask him.

"don't you ever wonder what would have happened if we never met?"

chan grunted, "no."

"how come?"

chan let go of your waist and turned you around, the two of you finally looking at each other.

"because there's no need to dwell in what could have or could have not happened when i have finally found the happiness i have been looking for."

you couldn't help but to let a few stray tears fall, chan wiping each one away lovingly.

"in case i haven't told you already, i love you chan."

chan chuckled but nonetheless replied, "not today you haven't."

"meanie," you gently slapped his chest and started to turn around again when he pulled you forward and pressed your head against his chest.

"i love you too, y/n. today, tomorrow, and forever."

#seventeen #dino x reader #dino timestamp #lee chan #dino #lee chan timestamp #seventeen timestamps #seventeen x reader #lc: t #timezone not found !#lost letters #anonymous letters #enmerald

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lightsovermonaco · 4 years ago

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls.

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods.

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires.

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past.

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him.

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places.

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease.

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone.

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely.

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-"

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue.

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you.

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?"

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium.

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back.

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..."

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze.

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy.

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don��t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

#are you feeling the angst yet #pierre gasly #pierre gasly X reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fanfiction

134 notes · View notes

cubedmango · 2 years ago

Text

live slug reaction (aka naina watches the cm movie after midnight and provides long and dumb and unnecessary commentary) (there be spoilers inside. tread w caution and all that jazz)

THE BOOOKK i wonder if we'll get to see the pages eventually.

also remembered my au i based off it...... i gotta dig it up

the recap aka watch how hard can i cry abt krdcs story despite having it seen it like 50 times already

adachi cringefail compilation in reverse so true

HELP ME WHYARE THEY SITTING LIKE THATSHHDHD. they are just sitting . five feet apart cause theyre not gay

ROKKAKU. I LOVE YOU BUT WHY ..... who was he trying to call anyway .....

their fucking faces i cant do thsidjbfjsjd those shifty ass side glances im losing it theyre so NERVOUS IM YELLING

ADACHI MY BELOVED AUGH HE DIDNT EAT ...... and them both laughing AUGHHH theyre my everythingggGGGG

HAHAHAHAHAHA HE REALLY WAS JEALOUS OF THE CHICKEN NOODLES i thought ppl were kidding but no . oh my god

ALSO.! KUROSAWAS ROOM IN DETAIL FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!! taking notes for No reasons

obsessed w how adachi so Obviously checks to see if their feet are touching and kurosawa, Aware of the powers, just does not see it

theyre so cute fucking hell.....

OHHH GIMME GIMME TIME LETS GOOOO

oh the camping trip ough. . .. would pay to be the fish just to watch this sappy ass shit irl

theyre both so dumb theyre literally made for each other i swear

Kurosawa. What Is Wrong With You. Stop Thinking Things Ur Scaring The Little Man

unrelated but omg the shots are sooo pretty i love the waterfall one....

NOT THE 'LOOKING AT THE PERSON WHILE SAYING "ITS BEAUTIFUL"' TROPE NOOOOO IM WEAK

hh.. h h n . h . . hands.. Hands

THEYRE SO CUTE (counter: 2)

OFFICE GANG IS BACKKK i missed them...... ms fujisaki my queen most of all

WHAT IS W THAT GAY ASS STARE ACROSS THE OFFICE U GUYS HELLO

ADACHIS ROOM !!!!!! sorry i like it a lot seeing it again is like seeing an old friend.......

"for us to be together forever" WHAT IF I THREW MYSELF OFF MY BED !!!!!!!!!!!!

"i wished for our happy days to last forever" AND WHAT IF I PARACHUTE JUMPED OFF A PLANE!!!!!!!!!!

also dear god knowing what happens next as they say this is . it Is.

ah . its them. tsugemina.... ha ha one part of the show i didnt rlly miss

my 'kurosawa actually cares a lot abt rokkaku when hes not busy being jealous of him' agenda REAL and CANON

THE BESTIES ok i did miss adachi and tsuges bestie-isms . they are so funny

MINATO? THEY WERE TALKING ABT DRINKS MY DUDE .......

the og soundtrack in the bg ......... Yeah

ADACHI LOOKING AT KUROSAWA LIKE THAT GUYS I CANT DO THIS I CANNOTTTT

THEYRE SO CUTE FUCK OFF (counter: 3)

comedic genius w that cut from adachi hoping for them to be together all to finding out abt the transfer

rokkaku... i am looking at him .....

ADACHI BEING GOOD AT HIS JOB SOOOO TRUE

noooo noooooooo noooOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THE FLASHBACKS NOOOOOOOOOO MY POOR HEART

seeing all the times kurosawa sacrificed what he wants for adachis sake ....... girlie who allowed this im so

Ah. Kurosawas Face..... Bros I Cant Do This....

THE BRIDGE !!!!!!!!!! THE™ BRIDGE™!!!!!!!!!!!!

KUROSAWA STOP FAKING STOP IT IM SHAKING YOU STOP ITTTT

SONS OF BITCHES FUCKING HELL THIS ANGST AAAAJAJJHDHBD. .JDJJE. DYING

KUROSAWAAAAAAAA

ep 1 parallel..... eats it up. definitely giffing this later Yeah

OUGH THE DISTANCE THE SLIDING SHOT THING (???? IDK I DONT KNOW FILM THINGS) THE DISCONNECT BETWEEN THEIR WORDS AND EXPRESSION OUGH OUGHHHH

A. AAA .A A.A..A. THIS IS JUST BEGINNING OF EP12 AGAIN WHY

hey that reminds me of the evil fic idea i was gonna write after watching the movie :)

Also. just noticed i have been talking in caps too much. sorry but 1) its late my brain isnt working 2) i gotta yell man

NEW FRIENDS who is He ........ who are all of they i need to know for fic purposes

THE PEN FUCK OFF NOOOOO . HE LOOKS SO SAD I . . .... . .. .. .HUGS HIM

adachi my talented brilliant genius amazing son . thats it thats the point

adachi my son hey hello. i understand jps toxic work culture but please. dont do that

so many pretty shots of kurosawa but he looks so sad in them..... this is his burden

adachi, alone, walking past couples/ppl in pairs..... poetic cinema

O NAGASAKI APARTMENT i am Perceiving 👁️👄👁️

kurosawa running to get his phone...... someone fly this man to kyushu Right Now

ough kurosawa pov. . always promising w angst as always

HE WAS LYING........ MY GUYS U GOTTA COMMUNICATE

THE BGM IS SOO GOOD BTW HITS SO HARD i think this is a leitmotif but brains too wack rn to recognise which piece its from

FUCK. THE PEN FUCK EVERYTHING AAAAAA WHY DO THEY DO THIS S

Looking. At the Apartment. Tidbits and Things and Blue Theme (very good and perhaps meant to match kurosawas place) but also adachi why is it . like this

47k yen flight bro............ call me unromantic bc i would not unless Absolutely Necessary

aha. foreshadowing.

oh my god okay its happening . gif

adachi jesus okay no stop stoppp go sit down please im begging you

Ah.

yuta 'jumping to grave conclusions' rokkaku strikes again . in his defense he probably didnt know anything but man

AGH. G GHH J N .. J N J JJ KDJDJD . GOOD GOD

A. . OOF . OKAY i fucking forgot abt that dream oh goodness . adachi i am psychoanalysing ur brain now

not remembering phone numbers he just like me fr

WAIT SHIT FUCJ OH . OH

SAYING THIS AGAIN. THE FUCKING RELIEF ON HIS FAAACEEEEEE IM UNWELLLLL

they hugged there btw im declaring this canon rn

fucking Finalllyyyy they Talk

"i nearly lost it" imagining his perspective and. H. . . ... hsj.. kj. ikk.w..d..

"i thought id never see you again" Who ...... why ................ to hurt me ...????? personally??????????

smashing a rock over my head during adachis lines

JESUS. CHRIST. KUROSAWA .......

OH MY GOD OKAY ITS HAPPENING . GIF (REMIX)

HANDS. PASSING AWAY NOW THANK YOU.

guys . what the fuck (<- rendered speechless)

parallel 2 !!!!!!! lets go!!!!

AH I SEE NOW. THE CARESSING. WOW......

ok a complaint here. honestly there wasnt enough use of the magic to even feel like it was missing tbh ? like it got mentioned and plot device-d but we barely heard any actual thoughts so the lack of it felt exaggerated imo

ITS THE SCENE ITS THE EDJDJJ JJHDJE BACK HUG WAUGH

aaaaand we're back to the THEYRE SO CUTE'S (counter: 4)

unrelated but how did the carpet not stain

PULLING MY HAIR OUT. THEIR PROMISE. SCREAMING

omg the besties <3 ignoring the tsugemina tho lol

HEEEEEEE omg he looks adorable..... also wow damn that was a fast time skip for 8 whole months lmao

THE FRIENDSHIPS. ACTUALLY LOVE THEM SO MUCH....

ROKKAKU I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU HES SOOO SWEET

the student becomes the teacher.....

haha . foreshadowing :D

THEY ARE. SO FUCKING CUTE (counter: 5? i think? slowly losing count)

also complaint 2 a bit suddenly but arent the subs a bit off...... not that i know any jp but i feel like they arent exactly right at times

THE ICONIC PYJAMAS RETURN also omg kurosawa avoiding the topic ohhh i wanna squish his cheeks so bad

THE SWEET LIFE DAYDREAM OUTFITS RETURN....... also the fucking choir playing every time kurosawa goes into his. . Adachi Mode. so good

PICTURES TIMEEEE PARALLEL 3

kurosawa meets the in-law (food truck guy)

OH THE MAIL SCENE AAAWWWWWWWW STOPPPPPPPPPP

guys i cannot. the matching everything. chores list . fucks sake. this is a scene from a fic i swear

my 'kurosawa is Not a morning person' agenda. real and canon

kurosawa scrunkly of all fucking time like there is not a more scrunkly chara ive seen in my life i love him so much oh my god

hey have i mentioned how cute they are yet . no? ok here it is. They Are So Cute (counter: 6 or something)

KUROSAWA CARES ROKKAKU IM TELLING YOUUUUU

oh what does that say on urabes laptop

(unrelated. had to pause here bc i felt a tiny earthquake and that scared the fuck out of me oof,, anyways back to the brain rot)

rokkaku and fujisaku u both are So real

ah them again.... looking at the besties Only

Hehehehehehe Adachi Got Plans

closing my eyes sorry i dont care abt these two at all ,,......

oh my god tsuge cursed...... king shit

ADACHI UR BRAINNN MASSIVE HUGE MY GENIUS SON..... HES PLANNING FAR AHEAD ALREADY SOBBSS

"i want to have a life with you forever and for always" this. .this. the. Head in my Hands. how am i supposed to cope with this . Hello

AAGHHGGH HUG !!!!!!!!!!

i heard the legends of the resume. i did not know it was this intricate. kurosawa my guy what the fuck

taking notes tho. hm yes birthday same as manga kurosawa..... hmmmm yes mari Is his sisters name...... hmmm past jobs (?). hope someone translates the whole thing

boy abt to pitch himself as adachis boyfriend like a stationary product. u know what? unique. points for creativity

WAIT THE REASON FOR APPLY HELP ME DNDJEJDJD THIS MAN someone please please translate this oh my god

KUROSAWA LORE!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god mari got lore too yesssss good for her

why did they reduce kazuyas number of kids.... was it an actor casting thing

OH ADACHI FAMILY !!!!!! LOOKING INTENSELY

kurosawa.......... hes so determined....

AWWWWW IM SO HAPPY FOR THEMMM best family i care them 🥺🥺🥺🥺

"welcome to our family" SOBBING SO LOUD

omg the shogi scene....... that indirect asian family brand of acceptance....... love to see it

YEAHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHH THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE !!!!!!! (refusing to think abt the next part)

chuckles. uh oh.

HEY ITS THAT SCENE . i didnt know it happened here oh

mont blanc again hehe

kurosawa did we not learn. did we not learn from the nagasaki part. my man

PARK!!! PARK™!!!!!! PARK PARK ITS THE OUUHHHHGHHGFFD [passes out]

somehow every speech adachi has given this movie has felt like a goddam punch to the stomach . Pain

losing count of the parallels there are so many Sooo Many

THE BGMMMMMMM ITS THAT ONE SONG

WAIT SURPRISE HUG OH THAT CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD. FUCK THEYRE SO CUTE (counter: i dont know anymore)

preparing my hands to be thrown later

the contrast of their houses is soo interesting me like adachis parents house being small and traditional vs kurosawas parents house being bigger and modern

and smth smth yet adachis family being more accepting of them despite that ....... Looking

saw ppl being like 'why did they bring irl problems into silly gay show' and yes i understand but also 1) this happened in the manga 2) i feel like this is kind of necessary ? not just from a realism perspective but for the storytelling??? like the point is to show adachis growth using hurdles and to show how he gets over them so without a serious scene like this i dont think his chara development would hit as hard

YEAH LIKE THAT. JUST LIKE THAT. HOW BEING W KUROSAWA MADE HIM BRAVER TO TAKE ON CHALLENGES

oh. he said it. well guys it was a good run for my online presence im going to go lock myself in my bathroom for the rest of my life now adios

OK GOOD THEY BROUGHT UP HIS SELF IMAGE AND PERFECTIONISM ISSUES . ITS IMPORTANT TO ME

"but then i met adachi. he accepted me as i am" bro i cannot. ep 7 abt to kill me next time i watch it on god

THEY DONT REGRET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TELL HER

adachis chara dev actually my fav thing on my planet for reallllll its insane how far hes come its incredible to see. and honestly for all that i relate to him it really makes me feel hopeful tbh...

HES CHANGED!!!!!!!!!! just repeating lines atp bc i have nothing to add but i must emphasize. Very Important

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO mama kurosawa i hope u get over ur fears entirely and then u and adachi can bond for the rest of time

"i believe your lives are yours to live" Yeah. Yeahhhhh yeah

OH MY GOODDD OKAY ITS HAPPENING . GIF (THE THIRD) (GONE RIGHT)

the growth from magic-dependent adachi in ep11....... Cries

this scene i saw already and yet. yet. . . Oh............... Wow.........

Hands.

The Bgm. normal about this . very

HANDS.

WHY WOULD THEY MUTE IT EVIL FUCKERS LET HIM SAY I LOVE YOU I NEED TO HEAR IT FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH

HUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TEARS IN MY EYES KUROSAWA TAKING THE FALL THSISI ISSO .. ..... GUYS

THEYRE SO HAPPY I CANT I LOVE THEMMM

intro parallel .....................

DORKS. WHY ARE THEY SO CUTE (counter: ???? still not enough times)

OH FUCK OH JESUS OH MU GDIIDJDJD

YES IVE SEEN THIS ALREADY. SEVERAL TIMES. YES IM STILL LOSING IT IMMENSELY . THANKS FOR ASKING!

complaint 3: why is adachis fucking wedding suit not fitting him right. huh

AGH. AGH. AAUAUSHHSJJJVJJKKE [taking emotional damage] HHRAAAHHAGGGFGHH

THE MUSICCCCC THE MUSIIIICCCCCCC THIS ISNT ALLLOWWEDDDDD

. BESTIES IM . ... ... ... OH MY GOD.................. I DONT HAVE WORDS ANYMORE. THATS IT.. ......

THE BOOK NO STOPPPPP DONT DO THIS TO ME IM SO WEAK

(i want that drawing by the way. as a painting. framed on my wall. for art purpose)

where is this location btw i would like to know of anyone has an idea

HANDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SWINGING HANDS

well. ... .. .. im super normal after this. i swear (biggest lie told)

SHINOOONNNNNNNNN YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

if u guys havent read the lyrics to it yet please. please. they are insane.

its 3 am. no thoughts brain kurodachi. this was so worth the 7 months wait. i am filled with serotonin

i did not say anything coherent or deep at all but maybe ill make a discussion post later if i can get my thoughts in order

but first. when i get my hands on that hd rip i am going to make So many gifs u guys are gonna be sick of me i promise

anyways yeah um . .. ....... krdc will continue to be my personality for the rest of the year please look forward to it <3

ALSO . IF OTHER PPL HAVE ANY THOUGHTS THEY WANNA SHARE W ME PLS FEEL FREE id love to discuss (and/or scream in all AAAAAAs) the movie too :D

ok im going to sleep now good night

#cherry magic #cherry magic spoilers #my post #sorry. in my defense i warned u guys several times in advance #chuckles nervously. ha ha good thing for tumblrs read more function huh...............#ough ok i really need to sleep now but definitely rewatching soon. like in a couple hours after i wake up again probably #praying for hd rip by then perhaps

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