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junowritings · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I request hcs of the dorm leaders having a crush on reader please? Normally reader is a pretty shy and serious person. But one day, they see reader from afar (alone or with Grimm): Reader is acting happy go lucky and goofy, without a care in the world. How would they react? (Reader is the type to be silent and introverted in social situations but when they are alone or with someone they are comfortable with, they act bubbly and lively) Thank you!

dfghjhgfds okay so I really got carried away with this one and it shows - this focused less on the crush and more like moments between them so I hope that you like this hun~! ------

Riddle

♡ How someone so serious and reserved managed to wrangle Heartslabyul’s first years into an unlikely friendship is anyone’s guess, but it really didn’t take long after your appearance at Night Raven College before Ace and Deuce started hanging out with you and Grim. Riddle’s heard talk about you before actually meeting you for himself - it seems that even despite your shy demeanor, you’ve become fast friends with some of the other dorm members. Trey’s talked about you coming over to watch him bake, and how you were pretty adept at listening to instructions; and Cater often brings you up in conversation, bringing up some of the selfies he’s roped you into taking with him and showing them to Riddle, lamenting about how you seem to clam up at the mere prospect of large crowds. ♡ It’s because of this that he’s somewhat prepared when the two of you initially run into one another - if only the circumstances were better given the whole unbirthday party issue. Still, that doesn’t seem to ward you off, if anything, Riddle finds you visiting Heartslabyul even more often after that event ♡ All things considered, you and Riddle actually get along rather well - whilst you don’t talk much, preferring to let the people around you do that talking for you, you’re rather pleasant company to have around. You don’t know even a quarter of the dorm’s rules, but he recognizes your effort to adhere to them as best as you’re able when you come to visit, and for what it’s worth the effort doesn’t go unappreciated on Riddle’s part, especially on his journey to be a little more lenient. He’s not exactly sure when you start winning his favor, or when he starts paying attention to little details about you when you’re around, but he notices he seems to act a little softer during your interactions, though he swears to himself that’s an unconscious reaction to a friend and nothing more. ♡ He’s heard Grim mention that you’re way more outgoing when you’re at Ramshackle alone, and Riddle has to ponder on if it’s because you’re more comfortable being yourself on your own. He’s the first to recognize that you’re more bubbly and lively when you’re comfortable, but doesn’t see it for himself till later on. ♡ He’s walking through the dorm halls on his way back to his room, when he hears snickering coming from the common room. Nothing too unusual, but he finds himself idly wondering what’s going on in there, so he makes a small detour to double check, just in case there’s trouble brewing. Riddle walks past the common room, watches a familiar black furball go flying up into the air, and promptly backtracks to see what’s going on. He’s already preparing to chew what he assumes is some plucky first years making a mess of the common room, when he spots you, arms outstretched as Grim falls and drops on top of you, where you skillfully catch him. ♡ You’re beaming at such a simple action, scritching Grim behind the ears as you hold the monster back up; Riddle doesn’t understand exactly what you’re doing until he watches Grim go soaring back into the air thanks to you promptly tossing him up at the cat’s signal. The sight is weird - especially because he’s pretty sure that Grim could fly just fine the last time he checked, but you genuinely look like you’re having a lot of fun throwing the feline up into the air and catching him, getting progressively higher each time. ♡ It appears Grim must trust you more than he lets on to let you do this, either that or the head pats you give him every time he comes back down is enough of a bribe to go along with the little game you’re playing. It’s rather childish, and not something he expected to ever catch you doing, which is exactly why he justifies staring at the scene for as long as he does instead of stepping in. There’s something about the way that you’re acting now that seems almost carefree, nothing quite like the stern, solemn look on your face back when he’d first caught sight of you at the induction. In all honesty it’s an almost enviable expression, or at least, that’s the feeling Riddle assumes he’s feeling when a warmth starts welling up in his chest the longer he watches the two of you play together.

Leona

♡ Has no idea how he ended up crushing on you - you’re quiet, keeping to yourself most of the time unless you get dragged into other people’s problems. That honestly suits him just fine since it means you’re less of a pain to have around - he doesn’t have to concern himself with needless blabbering or deal with the stunts the more reckless ones of his dorm seem to have a field day trying to pull off.

♡ The longer you and Leona are around one another, the more he’s convinced that there’s more to you than what you’re letting on. Sometimes, he’ll see little flashes of something beneath your usual silent demeanor, especially during moments when you’re happy; it’s like you want to express yourself more, be more open with your feelings. But every time he sees those flashes they’re gone just as quick, which makes him start actively keeping an eye out for those little moments.

♡ One such moment is where he gets a proper glimpse at what you’re like when you’re truly comfortable. Leona was more focused on trying to nap rather than entertain guests, so he’d let Ruggie take care of you while he found a spot to get comfortable; he’s in and out of it, only half paying attention when the sound of giggling rouses him. With a grumble, unamused at being disturbed, Leona cracks an eye open to see what Ruggie’s up to now - fully expecting you to be the latest recipient of one of the hyena’s latest trick when he sees the two of you sat on the floor, legs crossed and facing each other.

♡ It’s easy to assume at first that Ruggie’s just using his unique magic on you to make you follow along with his expressions and actions, but the longer Leona watches the pair of you, he notices that your reactions are just a beat slower than Ruggies, as though you’re waiting for the hyena to move first and acting accordingly. If imitating Ruggie’s your game, you’re doing a pretty good job of it, but every time you mirror his expression Leona can see the pair of you physically struggling to stop yourselves from laughing, watching you bite your lip and seeing the corners of your eyes crinkle in an effort to steel your expression even as a smile tugs at your lips. Ruggie’s not much better, grinning like a fool as he works to make you pull the silliest expressions he can muster, making himself look equally ridiculous in the process.

♡ It’s a childish game, and you’re sure that you can hear Leona huff at the silly display, but that doesn’t stop him from watching the scene play out, easing himself up from his previous napping position into one more comfortable to keep watching. He’s more focused on you than he is Ruggie, watching your expression contort every which way before breaking out into that same grin when a snort of laughter ruins the otherwise quiet of the game. You don’t look as serious and timid as what he’s used to seeing, and you’re interacting way more than you usually do, even sticking Ruggie with some spicy retorts every time he snickers about how silly you look. It’s actually kind of refreshing, in a way, to have his suspicions confirmed that you weren’t just that silent stone wall that others had stuck you to be, so he finds himself looking at that grin of yours like he’s trying to carve it into memory.

♡ Leona makes a comment about your expressions, a little jab that you’re used to hearing by now after being around him for so long; but Leona’s surprised to find that you’ve got a little backbone this time around, sticking him with a defiant huff as you stick your tongue out at him. It’s bratty behavior, but he at least appreciates the cheek you have to pull that face at him before you whirl back around, hands excitedly patting your legs as you egg Ruggie to keep going with this little imitation show. You can’t see it, but that action earns you a raised brow before Leona shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he flops back down, making you assume that he’s trying to get back to sleep as you continue playing - and he would be, if he didn’t want to keep listening to the sound of your carefree laughter for just a it longer.

Azul

♡ Azul knows better than to just assume that everyone shows their true personalities without hesitation - keeping your cards to yourself until it’s safe and avoiding moments of vulnerability around those you aren’t close to are traits that he knows all too well. And it’s precisely because of this that he doesn’t immediately judge you based on your initial shyness, instead opting to give it time and see how things pan out. Besides, after the events of that whole contract incident, the way you ended up handling it, and the things that have been thrown at you since, has piqued the dorm leader’s interest.

♡ Visiting Monstro lounge after hours has become a common occurrence, to the point where Azul’s more used to seeing you sitting somewhere in the lounge than he is not - there’s an unusual emptiness to the place on the days that you can’t make it, even if Azul’s not always interacting with you outside of the nod of acknowledgment and initial greeting. Whether you enjoy the quiet atmosphere or the company is anybody's guess, but when you’re visiting on your own you hardly cause any trouble, so Azul doesn’t mind you coming around in the slightest. Plus, you have a tendency to keep Floyd occupied when things get slow, which works out for everybody working there since he enjoys having you around as well. Today’s one such day where you’ve got his attention, as you’re helping to move some of the stuff people have left behind on the counter for the brother’s to pick up. Upon seeing the little collection of cups you’re making, Floyd doesn’t think twice about sliding one over to you, with little warning other than telling you to catch as he does so.

♡ You’d acted without thinking; all you’d seen was a glass coming at you from the corner of your eye and you swatted it back the way it came, almost immediately realizing your mistake as you whip your head around to watch the cup coast back over to Floyd. He looks down at the glass with a look of surprise as he catches it, but in the next moment that confusion is replaced with an amused grin and he nudges once again over to your side of the counter. This time you actually grab it, and after a second of skeptically eyeing the glass and Floyd you send it back at him; and, just like that, your new little minigame is afoot.

♡ The glass whizzes back and forth, getting progressively faster with each clink across the counter. And it’s that clinking that draws Azul’s attention, as the sound is enough to draw him into turning his focus over to the counter, watching the two of you play. You’re focused, tongue poking from the corner of your mouth as you focus on the glass as it comes back towards you; Floyd’s also thoroughly invested by the little game, and Azul can see his grin getting a little wider every time you have to lean over to bat it back over in his direction. It’s only a matter of time before something happens, Azul can see that clearly with how fast the glass is moving, but instead of calling out to the two of you to stop, Azul watches the exchange anyways, if only to wait for that moment to come.

♡ You must have underestimated the shot, as the next time that the glass goes whizzing towards Floyd it slips right past him and rockets off the counter. You both yell and make a grab for it even though you’re on the far end - Floyd just about falls off of the bar stool trying to snag it only to hit the floor hard enough to make the shelves rattle. Thankfully, Jade’s able to pluck it right from the air right before it hits the ground, sauntering back to the kitchen and carrying the leftover glasses from the remaining tables with him.

♡ Floyd pouts and mourns the loss of your playing glass, but you burst out into a cheer at the nice save, clapping for the Leech twin as he nods in your direction and offers you a smile as he disappears into the back room. The sudden outburst actually shocks Azul, who regards your shout with wide eyes; he’s never heard you yell before, much less that loud, so the sound catches him off guard. It seems that you catch yourself just as fast however, as the second you spot Azul looking at you, your face visibly flushes, embarrassed over him watching over the little scene, face only turning brighter when he flashes you a smile upon noticing you looking at him.

Kalim

♡ Honestly, the two of you couldn’t be more polar opposites to people on the outside looking in. Kalim’s good vibes personified, whereas you’re incredibly introverted and shy around people that you don’t know too well; it makes for an interesting dynamic between the two of you, but Kalim takes it all in stride! Regardless of whether you’re the shyest person in the world, or if you’re the most outgoing, Kalim has a way of finding the best in people and wants to be friends if you’re up for it. So when you first meet at the induction ceremony and you greet him, timid and nervous, Kalim’s really excited to greet you back, already armed with a slew of questions and things he wants to know - what can he say? He’s always interested in getting to know new people! And you’re no exception.

♡ You’re not much of a talker, preferring to let Grim or your other friends do the talking for you, but Kalim doesn’t mind in the least! Though he’s the kind of person that tries to take any and all opportunities to coax you into talking more, which can be very overwhelming during the first few weeks that you spend getting to know him. Fortunately, Jamil’s almost always there to rear him back and stop him from getting overly excited whenever he starts noticing that you’re getting uncomfortable or overwhelmed. It helps that Kalim gets Grim to warm up to him really easily, as seeing that your dormmate actually wants to hang out around him too makes you feel a bit more comfortable hanging out around him and letting loose a little more than you usually would.

♡ And Kalim’s not the only one excited for your visits. His magic carpet’s got a mind of its own and a playful streak that’s apparently only amplified whenever Grim’s in the vicinity - looks like the fluffy monster makes for a prime playmate. You, frankly, find that fact adorable, but Grim gets so miffed being constantly hounded by a magic rug that he actively goes out of his way to avoid it, even if that means swallowing his pride and hiding under or behind something until it’s gone (a fact that you love to bring up when it’s just the two of you - that’s gained you more than a few singed hairs). Unfortunately for your fluffy companion however, neither of you have really been good at knowing where exactly it is when you drop by Scarabia to hang out with Kalim, which means you either don’t have any interactions with it at all, or you do and…well, you get situations such as this.

♡ You’re walking in stride with Kalim, listening to him as he talks - he loves that you’re such a great listener, though that’s only an added bonus thanks to your usually shy demeanor (not that you’d tell him that, he looks so happy every time he gets to ramble you could listen to him talk all day). He’s mid conversation when you spot something whizz across your vision from the corner of your eye - you have no idea what it is, but you’ve got an idea of what it could be when you spot another flash of vibrant fabric.

♡ Unlike you Kalim’s completely oblivious to this, and you’re still not quite sure what you’re seeing till you finally watch a blur round the corner. The carpet spots Grim, and in the next second Grim’s gone from his spot and zipping down the hall on the carpet's back. His scream is abrupt and loud enough that your ears ring, but the sight of the cat clinging to the fabric and cussing up a storm of curses you didn’t even know he knew makes you react without thinking.

♡ You burst into laughter, throwing your head back before you can even stop yourself watching Grim disappear from view down the corridor. As soon as he hears you laugh, unabashed and unrestrained, Kalim just falls so hard. He’s seen you smile - he’s actually been responsible for making you smile on more than one occasion, and he loves that he’s been able to do so - but there’s just something about the pure joy in your voice, tinged with disbelief, that makes this moment different. It’s the type of laugh that has you leaning against the wall for support and clutching your side, and you only laugh harder when you hear Grim’s voice in the distance, shrieking at you to stop laughing.

♡ Your laughter is contagious, and it isn’t long before Kalim joins in laughing alongside you; that really doesn’t help calm you down, if anything it spurs you on into a spiral until both of you are laughing hard enough that you’re leaning up against each others shoulders every time you hear Grim’s voice carrying on the wind - it’s a moment to remember for sure.

Vil

♡ You’re shy, reserved and keep to yourself unless it’s something you need to actively get involved in, so perhaps it's exactly that reason that you fly under Vil’s radar for so long. Back at the auditions you had looked as though you’d rather be anywhere else rather than being swarmed by your fellow students, visibly shying away and keeping to your small little bubble of friends right up until the moment that the auditions started. Perhaps it was an act of mercy that you weren’t picked as one of the main performers, and he’d fully expected that to be the last direct interaction that he had with you and that fuzzy little thing that hovers around you all of the time.

♡ Only it isn't, even after the events of the VDC it's as though you’d resolved to go out of your way to visit Pomfiore, having gotten attached to your new friends and wanting to make the effort to keep them close even if it was through quick visits. Your self proclaimed task seems easier, given that little Epel has been unanimously adopted into your little gaggle of potatoes and you’ve gotten rather close to some of the other Pomfiore members since meeting them.

♡ It seems like you’ve wormed your way into the hearts of the Vil’s dormmates - Epel’s hanging around you just about every time that he’s spotted you on school grounds, and Rook is ever doting. Vil’s not really one to talk however, given that he’s the first person to greet you whenever you come to the Pomfiore dorm for one reason or another. This is one such instance - apparently one of your little group had decided to cook some desserts and had an abundance of fruits and treats leftover, so you’d brought a couple to share, with Ace and Grim in tow as you offered Vil a rather excited greeting upon seeing him at the door.

♡ An impromptu call had pulled him away from the group momentarily, and by the time the whole mess was sorted out he was already preparing for the chaos your friends must have caused in his absence (seriously, it’s like they go out of their way to nearly break something). However, as he comes to stand in the doorway, he’s accosted by the sight of what looks like a piece of fruit skimming through the air only to land in Grim’s mouth as the monster zips up to snag it. It appears that while he was gone you’d started up a little game of throwing food across the room for Grim to catch, and given the lack of mess on the floor it appears the monster’s been doing a fair job of catching what you toss. You’re biting back a chuckle as you reach for the next piece of fruit, aiming an apple slice in Grim’s direction and asking if he’s ready - in response he grins and rubs his paws together.

♡ You toss the piece, watching it move through the air and waiting for Grim to catch it. It looks like your trajectory was a bit off however, as it ends up sailing directly over Grim’s head and towards the windowsill where Rook’s sitting; your face immediately flashes to one of panic as you start to rise from your chair, the beginnings of a warning starting to form. It’s almost seamless how swift Rook turns his head, and before you can even blink he’s holding the apple slice between his teeth, flashing a wink before eating it and praising you for the impeccable aim.

♡ This is the first time that Vil’s seen you visibly brighten at the sight of a challenge, and he finds himself pausing in the doorway as he watches you straighten up in your chair, leaning on your knees as you reach into the pack for the next piece of fruit. This time you pull out a grape, and you shoot Rook a grin as you rear back, aiming the fruit over at his direction as he swivels around in preparation.

♡ This goes on for a few more tosses, and while Vil feels as though he should break up the little exchange, he can’t find it in himself to step in as he watches an orange slice sail across the room in a swift arc and Ace dives from his seat to slide across the floor and catch it, joining in on the fun. The moment he does a roar of triumph rips through the room, and you throw your hands up as you hollar and laugh at the successful shot; only to underestimate how far you’d leaned back and topple right off of your chair. You hit the floor, disappearing from sight, and your friends immediately make a move to check if you’re okay when they hear you laugh, still giggling to yourself by the time your head peeks back up from behind the counter.

♡ You’re disheveled from the fall, hair mussed and collar and tie left askew and loose - had this been usual circumstances, Vil’s first thought would have been to admonish you for letting yourself get into such a unkempt state and he’d have stepped in to correct the slight immediately; instead, his thoughts are trained on your expression, how different it looks from the carefully neutral facade you usually wore. How far that face had come since he’d first met you, now so warm and full of energy, it was as though you were alight with life with each little mark and awry hair only adding to your appearance. You looked...happy, imperfect but somehow...better than beautiful.

♡ Rook’s voice breaks him from entertaining that thought further, clapping his hands together and promptly announcing Vil’s sudden presence to the rest of the party. Vil watches the surprise cross your face, head ducking down so that only your eyes were visible behind the counter as you offer him a timid wave (though the reddening tips of your ears are enough to indicate your embarrassment). He’s swift to stride across the room, rounding the counter to where you’re still kneeling on the floor. You seem shocked when he offers you a hand, and Vil has to ponder just why you’re so shy in his presence as you eye the outstretched hand; you take the offer though, and honestly have to marvel at how soft his hand feels as it holds yours and tugs you up from the floor.

♡ You expect him to move away from you once you’re back onto your feet, but you’re hardly steady again when the hand holding yours moves to your shoulder, balancing you as he gives your disheveled state a once-over. He makes a noise akin to a hum before you feel a hand carding through your hair, smoothing out the otherwise untamable mess with precise fingers and you probably would have flushed under the attention were you not so surprised by the action. Instead of admonishment, Vil finds himself urging you to be careful - potatoes may be sturdy, but he’d rather not have this one getting hurt.

Idia

♡ In all honesty, Idia’s just as introverted, if not more so given his penchant for locking himself away from the world and sticking to the safety of his dorm room at any and all opportunities. So if there’s any chance of you interacting with him, it's either from pure luck, or because you befriended his brother - which given the circumstances, is definitely the latter of the two scenarios. Your shy and reserved personality around others and tendency to clam up in social situations reminds Ortho a lot of Idia, so after his first interaction with you during the Pomfiore auditions he makes an effort to get to know you! It takes you off guard, and Grim butting into the conversation every other minute to ask the boy something arbitrary really doesn’t help with your feelings on the situation; with time, and a little work however, you start opening up a little around him, and with the open and practiced way he approaches you, it isn’t long before the two of you actually become pretty decent friends.

♡ Idia just doesn’t know what to make of you when he hears of your first few meetings relayed directly through Ortho. It’s like you’re some kind of anomaly or glitch that slipped under his radar up until this point in time, and he doesn’t know what trick you’re pulling, but so long as you don’t have any malicious intentions he figures he can tolerate hearing about you. And boy, does he hear it - it’s like you’re involved in just about everything that goes wrong at Night Raven College one way or another, though it seems like it’s through no fault of your own if what he’s seen through the cameras is anything to go by. In a way he almost kind of sympathizes for you, being dragged around every which way by the other dorm heads and students looks exhausting, and you really seem to hate being around all the large crowds that all the school’s events attract. It’s like the only moment of respite you get is with your new flame-haired friend and that talking cat monster, Grim, but Idia doesn’t have much first hand experience when it comes to interacting with you.

♡ The first time you actually meet him face to face, it’s a complete accident. It’s not like he even knew you were going to be coming to the dorm because he hadn’t heard anything about it - it must have been an impromptu invitation, which is really unlike his little brother to do - so imagine his surprise when he rounds a corner and narrowly misses running headfirst into you. He knows what you look like, has seen it through his monitor a few times; hell, you’ve even greeted him through the tablet at dorm leader meetings once or twice when you were close enough to it. But seeing you through a monitor, and seeing you now in the flesh is so jarring that for a hot second he freezes up, looking at you with a baffled expression. You look so different face to face, and he watches you regard him curiously, head cocking to the side as though trying to size him up. It’s only when you give him a confused look and offer a quiet “uhhh,hi?” that Idia realizes what’s going on, and within the next moment he’s gone so fast that you have to double check that he was even there to begin with.

♡ Needless to say, not the best first impression, and Idia’s about ready for the earth to swallow him whole after that incident when you actually go out of your way to approach him the same day. You don’t try to burst into his room or demand him to come out like most of the others, instead you merely knock to announce your presence and mutter out a quiet yet surprisingly serious apology for scaring him back there, mentioning that you hope everything’s okay between you, afterall, you don’t to upset the person that you friend looks up to so much. And then just like that you’re gone, giving him some space as you go off to seek out Ortho.

♡ The friendship between you and Idia is definitely a slowburn, and often has Ortho as the middleman so to speak, being the more outgoing of the three of you when Grim isn’t following you around. Slowly but surely, you open up and start talking to him more, even asking him questions about his games and the kinds of things that he likes to tinker with - it’s a lengthy process, but as Idia spends more time answering your queries he realizes that he’s started to get used to having you around, even kind of looking forward to you coming over. ♡ Idia recognizes the beginnings of a crush, being able to distinguish that these feelings are different than just friendship, and he gets so worked up about it. A lot of his pining is done from afar, as he’d rather keel over and burn the dorm down before he admits his feelings out loud - he’s always thinking of the worst case scenario with social interactions, and just thinking about all the ways you could possibly reject him is enough to make him feel nauseous, so he sticks to just keeping it to himself and lingering on these feelings safely behind closed doors. He’s sure he can keep it to himself, convinced of it...until he sees what you’re like when you’ve warmed up to someone.

♡ He’d crashed in his bed after staying up way too long grinding for an in-game event, leaving you and his brother to play whatever multiplayer he’d dug up for the two of you to take a crack at; Idia’s the first to admit that sometimes he can sleep like the dead if he’s particularly sleep deprived, so it’s not a surprise that he doesn’t wake up till quite a while later. What wakes him up however is laughter - one voice is Ortho’s, he recognizes it immediately, but the other voice takes him by surprise, and he finds himself peeking his head out from the covers, mindful to keep his hair underneath lest he give away that he’s awake.

♡ Idia finds the two of you giggling to yourselves, with you laughing so hard that there’s tears in your eyes as you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. Ortho isn’t much better, thoroughly entertained by your laughing and trying to hide his own chuckles as you struggle to recompose yourself - it’s a bizarre scene to watch, and Idia has no idea what’s got you so chuffed until you compose yourself enough to inch back over to your controller. Upon looking at the screen, he sees that you’re still playing that game - there’s a cutscene playing, however it doesn’t take much to realize that the model looks wrong, some kind of bug giving them hilariously static poses that look awkward as the panels switch from scene to scene. There’s a split second where it looks like the bug’s corrected itself, and the laughter dies down into breathy chuckles as you move to click the button prompt. But then all Idia sees is the flash of a stock horse model whizzing across the screen and into the sky and Idia watches you and his brother just about crumple with a wheeze all over again.

♡ He’s never seen you even laugh like that before, much less act so ridiculously silly over something as small as a game glitch, but he’s practically glued to watching your reaction, watching this new, boisterous side of you with a rapt fascination. It’s hard to compose yourself while fighting off the giggles, attempting to imitate some of the bizarre cutscenes as you ramble excitedly about how weird and funny that whole thing was. Ortho also makes an attempt to follow suit, and that starts the pair of you off all over again. Idia would be hard pressed to deny that the sight of you and his brother, grinning without a care as your face flushes from all the yelling, didn’t make him ridiculously happy. If this is what you’re usually like, then does that mean he hasn’t unlocked that with you yet? He’s quick to shake away the thought, instead continuing to watch the scene unfolding in his room - he almost wishes that he could join in on the fun.

♡ Well, it looks like that wish comes true, as Ortho spots his brother out of the corner of his eye and greets him as he excitedly points at the screen, wanting to fill him in on what’s happened while he’s been resting. Your head snaps over to his bed, and he sees the flush on your face turn a deeper shade now for a different reason as you offer a timid greeting of your own, still smiling that bright smile as you apologize for waking him up. At being caught Idia doesn’t know what to say so he reacts without thinking, letting out a choked noise and diving back into his covers so you can’t see his face burning in embarrassment, though the way his hair flares up makes the action futile.

Malleus

♡ Malleus garners that you’re rather shy when you first cross paths outside of Ramshackle. He’d heard talk about what you were like, as Lilia had taken a particular interest not long after you’d first arrived at the school, having become what one might consider unconventional lunch buddies between breaks. Lilia spoke rather highly of you, though Malleus had yet to place a face to the name until he’d met you on the dorm grounds. He’s no stranger to others shying away from him or being scared in his presence, if anything, it’s the reaction that he expected you to have at the sight of him lingering within the grounds' poorly lit walkways. However, he’s quick to discern that the way you act in his presence isn’t because you’re scared of him, it’s rather just the way you usually act around others.

♡ This suspicion is confirmed the next time he sees Lilia and brings you up in conversation; at the mention of your name, Lilia’s expression practically brightens up, interested in the young man's apparent newfound interest in you, and doesn’t hesitate to pry into what Mal wants to know. When it comes to your unusually silent demeanor, Lilia’s quick to add that you aren’t always like that - just give it a bit of time for you to warm up to him, and he’s sure that Malleus might well see that there’s more to your personality than what he’s seen.

♡ Mal’s got no idea what Lilia means, but regardless he still finds himself coming back to Ramshackle - when his usual haunts become occupied he thinks little of finding another secluded location, but this time he finds himself returning. At first, you’d only come outside to check that it's him and not someone out wandering the dorm grounds, but after a handful of meetings, Malleus is intrigued to find you following in stride with him during one of his walks. You don’t give any explanation, nor do you bother with asking any arbitrary questions - which honestly suits Mal just fine - instead, when you cross paths, you just start to walk alongside him for a while. The nighttime strolls have no need for talking if you’re not the speaking sort, and he’s hardly the type to complain about trivial things like that - Malleus is fine simply having the company on what would otherwise be a solitary excursion.

♡ The longer the two of you spend these nights together, the more he gets tiny flashes of your warmer side. You begin opening up a little more with talking, making small comments about the weather or any upcoming events of note - it’s mundane things, but the small talk is...surprisingly endearing when previously you said nothing more than what you absolutely had to. Perhaps this is what Lilia was on about back then, is what Malleus thinks to himself; either way, it's just another little thing that keeps him coming back. Mal honestly doesn’t see himself having a crush just yet - it’s just that he enjoys the company, and the way you interact with him, shy but unafraid, intrigues him in such a way that keeps him coming back. That’s how he rationalizes it at least.

♡ His first glimpse of your more open personality is by pure chance. Usually at this time of night he would find you wandering somewhere around the Ramshackle grounds, either actively seeking Malleus out or looking for some fresh air to shake off the stress of the morning hours; however when he can’t seem to find you at your usual spots, he resolves to approaching the ramshackle dorm to search for you. Chances are you’re just late or you aren’t interested in accompanying him tonight - either way, he’d rather find that out for himself so he approaches the dorm with little hesitation. All of the lights inside are off barring one, and Malleus finds himself walking around to see if he can make out whatever’s inside, hoping that it’s you.

♡ And he finds you, but the sight he’s greeted with catches him off guard. He can hear the music through the windows, an upbeat melody that Malleus would never quite pin you as a fan of until now. And as he gets closer to the lights he can see you inside the living room, sliding into view. At first, he doesn’t have a clue what you’re doing, moving across the floor in a weird way that’s not unlike shuffling. After a beat though, Malleus soon realizes that you’re dancing, spinning and jumping around the room without a care in the world, belting the words out at the top of your lungs loud enough that he’s sure you’d wake up your dormmates if you had any, though he can hardly make out the lyrics from beyond the glass.

♡ The sight is...oddly mesmerizing, in a way, not because you’re particularly professional, but because of how lively you’re acting. You look so happy, so carefree compared to the shy and silent persona that you usually convey around others - it's a bizarre sight, to say the least, but at the same time it’s a welcome one, and Malleus simply can’t tear his eyes away. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been at it, but it isn’t long before you tire yourself out, whirling around a final time before you finally stumble and topple back onto the floor. You fall so suddenly that Malleus would have moved closer to check that you were okay were it not for your surprised shout filtering off into giggling once you shake off the shock. You’re frazzled, with hair askew and breathing hard, but at the same time you’re visibly giddy, lost in your own little world and grinning like a fool as you run your hands through your hair and rest your head back against the floor.

♡ Malleus has no idea why, but the sight of you smiling, so unburdened by the world outside has him entranced - it’s like you’re practically glowing with energy that he hasn’t seen before, and he’s transfixed to soaking in all the little details, as though wanting to commit this image to memory. He probably would have strayed a moment longer had you not suddenly moved, rolling off of the floor and scrambling onto your feet as you disappear from view, apparently called away by someone - probably Grim - and as the moment’s broken Malleus finally catches himself, cursing himself for getting so distracted.

♡ He ends up completely forgetting what he came over to do, and ends up taking that walk on his own. But he finds his thoughts during that stroll almost completely occupied by the moment, replaying the scene in his mind and thinking back on that vibrant, beaming smile that had lit up your face - the way you looked when you laughed and moved without a care in the world. A part of him is a little sad that you’re not like that when in his presence, but at the same time he finds himself understanding why you keep that side of yourself so closely guarded. Still, that doesn’t stop Malleus from entertaining the idea that sometime in the future he can see that vibrancy face to face, maybe even directed at him - perhaps there’s something he could do to reassure you that you can open up around him...

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godwrecks · 4 years ago

Text

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗮

𝗣𝘁. 𝟮 - 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁

word count: 4.1k

tags; college au. angst. confession. fwb. drugs. fluff if you squint.

The first thing you registered was the light buzzing - no, vibrating of Suna’s phone. Much too dazed by your sleep, you didn’t wonder who was blowing up his messages this late at night. Raising up the sheets to shield your naked body from the cold, you tried to get some sleep, but Suna’s incessant tossing kept you from doing so.

You finally turned to him, eyes squinting at his illuminated face. “Why the fuck is your screen so bright?” You groaned and nuzzled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. He merely chuckled, quickly putting away the phone.

“Why so cranky, you just woke up,” despite speaking in hushed sentences, his voice still dripped with mocking. Suna placed his hand on your hip, and though it remained in its station for a few seconds, he soon started trailing his fingers along your waistline.

“Can you even call it waking up? I didn’t sleep at all,” he cocked his head at that, bringing you in closer to him. “I guess I’m at fault for that.”

You smiled quietly, clearing your head as much as possible to get a wink of sleep, though you knew he’d be up and going soon. It had been a few weeks since the...incident, if that’s what you could call it. Nothing changed, really, for better or for worse. Sometimes he was more careful around you, but your relationship was only good for sex. That’s what you had to remind yourself, right? But everything remaining the same was what bugged you. You knew better than to demand more because this was never meant to go past fuck buddies. And while he started coming to you slightly less high, sometimes even seemingly sober, you knew better than to get your hopes up.

With your head like this on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Steady, while yours seemed to always mess up and skip around him. And yet with the slow rhythm of his heart, of his breathing, you surrendered to sleep.

When you woke up again, the sunlight was already rudely peeping past your curtains, and the other side of the bed was empty. Still adjusting to the light, you looked around the room slowly, filled with a strange relief when you found Suna dressing up.

“Practice?” You rubbed your eyes carefully, putting on a hoodie and wobbling when you stood up to reach him. He smiled arrogantly as he ran a hand through his hair, proud of the mess he made of you.

“Yeah. I gotta stop to get something on the way, so I’m heading out now.” His voice was still raspy from sleeping, some of his locks awkwardly falling over his eyes.

Though you wanted to smile at the sight, you knew he was talking about his plug and picking up shit from him. It wasn’t that you judged him for smoking - if that had been your preference, you would’ve known better than to get involved. You and Suna started out as friends, and you had been good friends for a long time at that. Some of the boys on the team always smoked together, and you almost always happened to be there with a few other girls, sometimes even taking a hit you’d be offered. Some of those girls were flings you’d never see again, others were girlfriends. But you were just a friend at the time, not thinking much of the tall and laid-back middle blocker.

“Will you be there tonight? For the party, I mean,” he spoke casually, sitting down on sheets that now smelled like him. “I’m not too sure. I have an assignment due, and I have to be up early tomorrow,” he nodded from his place, tying his boots. You hadn’t been going to many parties lately. The semester nearly ending meant your workload was accumulating, which also meant seeing Suna less. It was at parties and gatherings that you really got to see him, anyway - he was always busy with volleyball and zooted out of his mind most nights he was free. Your thoughts were abruptly cut when you felt his lips press against your forehead, finding an apologetic smile when you looked up.

“You’re starting to bore me,” he joked, but it still made your smile falter. You wanted to give yourself a good slap; since when had you become such a crybaby?

“I’m gonna go now, don’t miss me too much,” Suna stood in the door, offering a charming wink.

“Bye, loser,” you smiled back before shutting the door right in his face.

You had tuned into your laptop to absorb every piece of information from the lecture, or at least try to, as you sat in the library. A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearly midnight. Surprisingly, the library was open all night for students to study - go figure, maybe they guessed most procrastinate until the night thereof. You were taking a few sips from your drink when your phone lit up for an incoming call.

“Rin?” You spoke quietly, not bothering to decipher what the background noise was on his end.

“Baby! You picked up,” his voice was lighter than usual, a mixture of sweetness and relaxation. Suna was the type to become touchy when he was intoxicated, whether by alcohol or drugs. His hands wandered everywhere and he became extremely affectionate, even cuddly, though it was mostly him grabbing your ass. You had only ever seen it for yourself; it was what he did when you were around, and you didn’t have the heart to ask what he did, or who he did it with, when you were absent.

“What’s up?” You let out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair, fingers toying with the straw of your cup.

“I wanna see you,” he spoke and you guessed he had walked out of whatever room he was in.

“I’m studying right now. I told you, remember?”

“Mm, yeah, yeah, you did,” Suna grumbled before a sharp noise echoed through the line, followed by a curse.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked some shit over. Anyways, come on, just take a break.” You took in a sharp breath, wanting to knock your head against the wall. You knew when to say no, but when it came to him that never meant it was easy.

“I really can’t, Rin. If you just want a girl all over you, call someone else,” you flinched at your own tone, stupefied by the coldness of it.

Whilst you were pondering the source of your sudden anger, Suna was chuckling, probably shaking his head. “Hey, hey, where’s that coming from?”

“Well, I’m just giving you a disclaimer. I’d love to be there, but my grade for this class is desperately crying for help,” you laughed, hoping to cover up whatever that had been.

“So what? I just call someone else?”

“If that’s what you want right now,” you frowned, a detestable panic rushing through you. It was so stupid to even suggest so in the first place, what were you hoping to accomplish? Maybe you just wanted to check for yourself what happened when you weren’t there to satisfy him.

“Unfair, much?” He sighed, and you wished you were facing him right now, if only to catch a glimpse of what goes through his mind.

“How?” You ventured with a gulp, heart pounding against its cage.

“You’re the only girl who doesn’t sober me up,” your stomach twisted onto itself at the smirk on his voice. You felt sick yet couldn’t point down the reason why - there were several. You being foolish enough to even think of this fact as a confession, him only calling you because he just wanted his high to last. Was he using you? The thought raced through your mind, along with a few scenes of you laying next to him.

“Hey,” he blurted out seriously. Between you only remained the loudest silence you had heard.

“Hey,” you were utterly breathless, struggling for air as your lungs closed up and rebelled against your will. You wondered if this was truly so shocking. While you were in the back of his hair, this fear was always forced to the back of your mind. You had knowingly mistaken every moment for more than it was.

“Are you o-”

“I need to go, actually. I’m still at the library, so I should head home. Have fun, yeah?”

Before he could even reply, you ended the call, gripping your phone so tightly that your knuckles went white.

The ride to your apartment was loathsome, to say the least. Not even the loud music could keep you away from your thoughts long enough. You turned the engine off and made your way to the elevator. In the process of searching through your backpack, your phone almost slipped from your hands when you jumped in surprise, startled at the arm sticking through the closing doors.

Your heart dropped when they opened up to reveal a panting Suna staring right through you.

“Rin, what are you doing here?” You stammered when he pressed the button to your floor, nearing your figure.

“I came here to see you,” he was still slightly out of breath, eyes scanning you as if they were searching for something. Had he run for so long?

You took a look at your handwatch and cringed. It was late, but not late enough for him to come knock at your door.

“Thought you’d be busy until later,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well, change of plans.” His sleazy eyes never left you, and you regretted not taking the stairs.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way here, but you should go-” You stared at the hand wrapped around your wrist that pulled you closer until you stumbled forward.

“Don’t do that.”

You chuckled viciously, a sound that bruised him. “Sorry I’m not really in the mood to have sex right now.”

“You know that’s not what I’m here for.” Suna started to be visibly frustrated, or at least you thought so by the strength with which he was gripping the pole behind you.

“Then why are you here? That’s all we’ve ever done, Suna,” the name rolled off your tongue awkwardly, and as distasteful as it was for you, his flinch made it clear that he disliked it even more. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, straight to your apartment with the hopes that he’d stay behind.

“Oh, so now we’re back to the last-name basis?” You felt him right behind you, his heavy breathing audible.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You half-assed the apology as you struggled with your keys, the slight shake in your hands slowing you down.

After stepping inside, you turned just in time to see his shake head.

“Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes rolled back at his indifference. How could he be so dense? Was he feigning innocence like this was a game to the both of you? It may have been for him, but not for you.

“I don’t know!” A step towards him and you were already too close. You felt claustrophobic from the way he hovered above you. “Maybe because I feel fucking stupid? I know there’s nothing between us, I’m well aware,” the laugh that formed in your throat was bitter, yet it didn’t compare to the tightening of your chest. “But this just isn’t what I want anymore.”

Suna looked at you as if you had gone insane, unaware of the slight craze in his amber eyes. “What do you want?” He grabbed onto the door, stepping forward until he had cleared his way inside.

“Not this, not whatever you want out of me.”

The grin on his face, unlike his usual striking ones, branded an emotion he had never worn before. “Which is?”

“Making you cum while you’re high, apparently,” you sneered back, tearing his hand away from the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Suna gritted through his teeth, slamming the door shut. You groaned, debating how hard you would have to smack his head with your backpack to give him a concussion.

“Oh, am I? You said so yourself.”

“You’re twisting my words,” he pointed his finger at you accusingly, fuming with every breath.

“How so?” This time you didn’t back off. Instead, you hit his chest, resisting the urge to claw at it so he’d at least keep a distance. “If you care to explain, go right ahead!”

“I never said that’s all I want,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to keep calm, which was turning out difficult for the both of you.

“Right, because only seeing you after you've smoked wasn’t enough of a message. I don’t even see you throughout the day!”

“How is that only my fault? You never told me you wanted something else, and you were as happy to fuck as I was whenever I knocked on your door.” You could only scoff at his words, amazed he could even dare to try and blame you.

“You know damn well this isn’t on me. I'm not the unavailable one, I'm not the one that's always gone until it's convenient. I'm not the one who barges in and acts like they own me, or did you forget about that already?” You had begun to scream out without realizing, but the rage you felt burning through the cracks of your heart was urging to be released.

Suna stood there quietly, staring at you with distant eyes, like he was too busy making sense of his own thoughts to even mind yours. When the clock ticked away and he had still not spoken a word, you inhaled, bracing yourself.

“Listen, this was nice. And I’d like to stay as a friend, so let’s just leave it at this. If you had plainly admitted that all you ever wanted was sex, I would’be been slightly better now.” The words were calculated and detached as you held onto the sleeves of your cardigan.

“You’re not fucking getting it, it’s not just the sex that I want,” Suna finally mumbled, but your hand was already placed on the knob.

“Well it's all you ever cared to ask for.” You opened the door and stepped away, unable to look anywhere but at the floor.

“When I said I didn't wanna leave you, I didn't mean- I meant…” each word was a separate struggle, and you lacked the strength to bear it any longer.

“What did you mean, Rintaro?” You only offered a tired smile as he stood there once again like a fish out of water. A silent challenge he never took on.

It only took you a few seconds to decide to push him from behind towards the door. You were angry, and heartbroken, and definitely not okay, but something like this was not worth losing him over. Despite everything, he had been a great friend before.

“Have a good night,” and with that, you spelled away the image of the tall brunette you came to adore.

You were still dripping from your long shower, the robe you wore doing little to collect the water before it hit the floor. It was early afternoon, not even 24 hours after the fight, yet it felt like an eternity had passed. You hadn’t heard from Suna at all, and a part of you wondered if you would soon or if he would disappear for a while. Shaking the thoughts away, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a drink when the doorbell rang. You frowned, scrambling your brain for anything your friends had said about coming over, but you were sure none had the plans to visit. The moment you opened the door, the scent of musk and ginger washed over you.

“Please don’t shut the door on me, you seem to have taken a liking to it,” he blabbered out as soon as your eyes met. You hesitated, shifting your weight on your feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“Give me a chance?” You frowned, scanning his face for ulterior motives but all you found was honesty. Despite it, your stomach sank at the sight. Though you didn’t know if you had wanted to see him or not, you wouldn’t have imagined it would be this hard.

“Rin, really, what are you-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, too bewildered to properly speak. Another glance at his face told you he was sober - he even looked more put together than he usually did, though it looked like his volleyball uniform was under his outerwear.

“For someone who was so upset, you should at least give me the opportunity,” he joked tediously, ignoring the dense air that had formed between you two.

His smile was rueful, and genuine from what you could see. “Just...let me do this properly. Dress up and let’s go to my game,” he announced, hints of timidity teetering his voice.

You simply gazed at him, lips forming a thin line. “What are you doing? Just- what are you planning?”

“Nothing!” He swallowed down, raising up the hand that was holding two bags. You raised an eyebrow at it, unamused. “Here, I got you something.”

Receiving it from his cold hands, you looked carefully into it before digging through it. “You’re joking,” you hissed, dangling the pink lingerie in front of his face.

He was smug, toying with you for his pleasure as always. You would have too if you had not been in this situation.

“It was a joke. That’s not...really what,” he quickly delved into the other bag, holding out a small, black box. You surveyed it before cocking your head, taking it from him and opening it. The necklace inside was pretty - beautiful, actually. But you didn’t want his money, you wanted him, which was likely a harder request. “It’s not gifts that I want, Rin,” you sighed, now painfully aware that he would never be something you could predict.

“I know that, angel. But I never treated you, or did something nice for you, and most guys do with, you know,” he trailed off, eyes darting away from your face.

“My problem is you only calling me when you’re high. That issue won’t be solved with gifts,” you massaged your temple, slowly becoming a mess as you tried to put the pieces together and figure out what he was doing.

“I’m not a damn addict, princess. It’s not all I fucking care about,” Suna swore as he leaned against the door frame.

“I know that! I never said you were, but you can’t just go from only giving me that to acting as if you actually want us to be something more. So tell me, how am I supposed to feel?” Though your voice nearly broke, you held onto the door - determined to at least stand your ground. You had been clear with him. You had specified you couldn’t do this anymore, so the least he could do is respect that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, glimmering ever so briefly that you wondered if the change had been a figment of your imagination. “Listen— I've never,” his chest trembled with a breath before he continued. “I've never been in love with someone, alright? I don’t know how it fucking feels, and that was the last thing I planned on doing. And don’t get me wrong, I was hooked on you from the very beginning. But then suddenly you're the only person I’m attracted to,” Suna’s voice was uncharacteristically weak, threatening to crack at any moment. “And believe me it wasn’t for lack of trying, because while my dick was inside someone else, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to see you. And I didn’t- I don’t know how to process that, all that you fucking make me feel. I don’t even know if I want to process it at all, if I’m being sincere.” His lips lifted into a pained smile that didn’t reach his tormented eyes. “But when you ended that call, you sounded so hurt I panicked. And I don't have a plan, and I'm rambling, and this is probably the most I’ve ever said at once, but if I know something, it’s that I can't let it end here,” his throat bobbed but his steps to you were resolute. You almost turned away when his hands cupped your cheek, spanning the skin delicately.

You couldn’t find your voice for all it was worth. It was hard to tell whether your brain was working faster than your heart.

“You say that, but,” you jerked when you felt a tear trickling down your cheek. Suna’s fingers stuttered undecidedly, but his thumb wiped away the salty trail. “Assuming you truly felt that way, you never acted on it. Actually, you acted very differently,” you hiccuped, biting the inside of your cheek in shame.

“You want me to be honest with you? I feel like such a mess around you, like I might explode. It’s easier to deal with that in certain situations. Hence me restricting our time with each other to me being high,” Suna murmured, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was scared all the good I’d ever do for you is a nice fuck. What if that’s all I get until I mess up? You’ve got it so together and I’m here, not even able to talk about my stupid feelings.”

You gaped at his pale face: the beautiful carving of his features, the slight quavering of his bottom lip, the long eyelashes framing half-mast eyes.

“You mean that?”

He laughed at your simple question, likely expecting more after everything he had let out. You wanted to give him more, but you were unable to, still trapped in your fear that it would all be fake.

“I do. And I’m sure it can’t just be me who feels like this.” With a look at you, he pinched your cheek gently, looking for an answer.

“It’s not just you. Obviously,” you grumbled disapprovingly. It was pretty obvious to you, but he still smiled sweetly, the frenzy in his face slowly fading.

“I’ll probably miserably fail, but I at least wanna try. I wanna do this — with you. So please let me. And if it’s not enough for you even after that, then I won’t waste your time anymore. But give me the chance.” His hands lowered to your jaw and neck while he spoke the words, forcing you into a retreat.

“Rin, do you even know how relationships work?” You scoffed, quirking your eyebrows at the boy.

“Yes. No. In theory?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. He really was awfully cute sometimes.

You eyed his waist, reluctantly deciding to wrap your arms around it with a heavy sigh. “I’ll probably regret this and get my heart broken.”

“Hopefully it’s not your heart that gets broken,” Rin quickly added, looking down at your body with a sneaky grin. You glared at him, hiding away the smile on your lips.

“You know we have to like- go on dates. During the day and all?”

He nodded like this was a work interview and he was expecting the question.

“Okay, so get ready. Let’s go to my game,” he signaled over to your room given your bathrobe, but you could only stare at him cautiously.

“I mean it. Come cheer for me,” Rin leaned down to you with the whisper, reaching your eye level. You nodded, rushing to get dressed once he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“You know,” he started off casually, grabbing your hand. “I might’ve cried if you hadn’t come back with me.”

“Oh, really?” You smirked at him, curiosity filling you.

Swiftly noticing your mood shift, he explained. “Well I talked to some friends...for advice, or whatever. So if I had showed back alone, those two jerks would’ve never let me hear the end of it.”

He squeezed your hand as laughter soared through you, your free hand traveling to your abdomen when it began hurting. “Seriously?” You added when you managed to control the laughter, gaining a glare from Suna.

“Seriously.”

When your eyes had returned to the road ahead of you, he lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm.

“I’ll do this, so just don’t complain anymore okay?”

This was so long??? If you actually read all of it, THANK YOU LMAO. also sorry for the weird spaces sometimes, i like writing in docs so i don’t lose anything aha so it b weird sometimes idky. okay yeah thank you !!

art credit: damnzucoyy on tiktok

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ninjastormhawkkat · 2 years ago

Note

Amazo Guy pondered deeply about what Dr. Two Brains said. The villain's words, his body gesture, the pleading look in his red/pink eyes. Every part of Dr. Two Brains was screaming to Amazo Guy that he was telling the truth. Amazo then glanced at the tied up henchmen. He saw how the original two were resigned to the idea of going to jail. Being very used to it by now, but the new one, Mac, Amazo froze as he stared at the henchman. Mac looked to be shaking, petrified, terrified at the idea of going to jail. He looked up at Amazo with a fearful, ghostly look in his eyes. Mac's expression wasn't saying "i'm sorry don't take me to jail." but rather "Please don't take me there. Don't let them find me!" Amazo felt genuine pity and sympathy for this man. He was truly frightened of something or someone. Amazo Guy sighed in defeat. He knew what he had to do hear despite it going against all his heroic rules. "Okay. I will let you go." Amazo Guy finally said as he began to untie the ropes. Dr. Two Brains looked elated that Amazo Guy was going to listen to him. "Thanks Amazo. I really appreciate this.." "I'm letting you all go." Amazo Guy interrupted, not looking at the mad scientist as he finished untying the rope, letting Joey and Charlie free as well. Dr. Two Brains was taken aback by his statement as Amazo Guy proceeded to untie Two Brains after he was done with the henchmen. Amazo Guy saw Dr. Two Brains very puzzled expression as he proceeded to untie him. "I am not happy about doing this, but like you said, you are trying to protect this person from very bad people. So it is important for his safety if he doesn't get separated from you or your henchmen So try to avoid any more crazy big schemes where you can get caught." Amazo Guy spoke with a frown. Dr. Two Brains stared at Amazo Guy with shock and surprise after he was let go, still processing what the hero just did which was extremely out of the ordinary for the man. "One more thing, I would like to talk to you later and get the full details of this man's situation. In a more private setting if you will. I would like to help out in any way I can." Amazo Guy stated in a commanding voice. Dr. Two Brains expression shifted to annoyance. "Yeah, yeah. we'll chat later. I make no promises not to steal cheese for the mouse brain's sake but I will make sure no pesky hero is around to ruin my work." His expression then morphed into a glare as he spoke to Amazo Guy in a serious tone, pointing a finger at him. "Just so you know, I care about my "important things" more than you will ever know. I do my damn best to make sure they aren't affected by my crimes and live as much as a normal life as possible. I would turn you into swiss cheese right now for your words if my "important things" didn't care about you too much and would miss you if you were gone." Out of spite, Dr. Two Brains took some of the cheese right in front of the hero before walking away with a huff. The other henchmen began to follow their boss. Only Steven turned around and saw Amazo Guy see them off with a hardened scowl before it morphed into something...sad. The hero then took off with super speed leaving the villains alone and Steven with a lot of thoughts and questions running through his mind as he walked back to the van.

The drive back to the lair was filled with tense silent. Joey and Charlie fiddled with their thumbs, neither man wanting to say anything that would upset their boss more than how he was right now. Steven observed Dr. Two Brains' expression has he drove. The man looked very angry and agitated despite being let go which would have been a happy moment for any villain. Steven couldn't help notice that underneath Two Brains' hardened expression, their was slight melancholy, as if the past event really bothered him. Dr. Two Brains felt Steven's eyes on him and glanced at the man who was looking at his friend right now with a serious, but very concerned expression. Dr. Two Brains face then became calmer and regretful. Sigh "Look Steven. I'm sorry for putting you through that and almost causing you to be taken to jail. I didn't expect Amazo Guy would show up out of the blue like that." Dr. Two Brains apologized to his friend. Steven wasn't angry about almost being taken to jail. He was upset about it, but right now he was more concerned about Gene's emotional health right now. "I'm alright now." Steven responded. "I'm just more worried about you. That battle and that verbal exchange between you two, it sound very personal. Not very typical of a hero and villain banter or even an argument." Dr. Two Brains became angry again as he recalled that battle. "Trust me Steven, that was far from banter." The mad scientist said in an annoyed and bitter tone. He then felt a hand on his shoulder as he saw Steven's face become lined more with concern and sympathy. Dr. Two Brains' expression melted. He knew his friend was worried about him. He didn't know the whole truth. "Amazo Guy is my ex boyfriend. We were in a serious relationship back before I became a super villain. At first we knew each other vaguely. I wasn't interested in being buddy buddy with him back then because I thought he was an arrogant show off. My perspective of him changed when Becky was five. She was kidnapped by someone I trusted for selfish and diabolical reasons." Two Brains gave a shuddered breath as his face darkened with fury at the memory. Even after his mind became warped from the fusion, he would never forgive Athena for what she did to his precious child. Dr. Two Brains calmed himself down as he continued his explanation. After Amazo Guy rescued Becky, I saw there was more about him than just his public image. We dated in his civilian life. He became like a second dad to Becky. She and Bob loved him too. He sometimes takes over watching her when he is not doing hero stuff in Global City which is some miles away from Fair City. Well the reason we obviously broke off was because I became a super villain and new person from the man he knew." Steven remained silent through Dr. Two Brains explanation. He felt a lot of things right now for his friend after what he had just heard. "So..that argument between you and Amazo Guy earlier, do you guys despise each other now?" Steven asked carefully, trying to understand what his friend was going through. Dr. Two Brains pinched his nose. "It's more complicated than that Steven. Amazo Guy really cares about Becky too. He feels that my criminal antics affect her negatively. Well don't you think I don't know that Amazo! You try and appease the obsessions of a vicious mouse brain without committing crimes. I'm sorry I'm not the same man you fell in love with years ago. BUT GUESS WHAT! I am not that guy anymore. Steven isn't coming back buster! But I still damn well love my daughter and I will blow up the moon for her if I have too! So don't you don't you damn near judge me for that you big stupid muscular Adonis!" Dr. Two Brains inhaled and exhaled deeply after that long rant. He really needed to let his frustrations out. None of the other inhabitants of the van said anything. Each staring with frozen silence at Dr. Two Brains venting. A few tears threatened to fall from Two Brains' eyes before he furiously wiped them away.

@drtwobrainsstuff

(this is for the rp idea we talked about on discord)

His lungs were burning as he ran. His whole body ached with pain, screaming at him to slow down, stop and rest. But he couldn't do that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to run, had to get away from the monsters that imprisoned him. He had to get away from those who treated him no better than the human test subjects they had kept, locked in those horrific conditions, only kept alive for unethical experimentation. Deep down, his survival instincts were telling him to keep running, stay ahead, survive! He knew what would happen if THEY caught him. It was still dark out, but soon the man noticed an large and brightly lit billboard. The man let curiosity slow him down as he read the words printed on the billboard through bleary eyes. 'Fair City: An Upstanding Place To Live - 500ft ahead. The man let out a short, elated laugh despite the dryness in his throat. He finally found civilization. He finally found a place he could hide from his pursuers for long enough before he could fully recover from his ordeal. A hopeful thought appeared in his mind, one that motivated him, gave him a reason to live through his past nightmare. 'Maybe this city has the resources I need to finally find him.' The man thought with a hopeful smile. He took a deep breath before running again, towards this "Fair City". "Don't worry Carl." The man said aloud to himself, "I will find Gene and a way to free you."

Becky yawned as she was awoken by the light coming into her room through the window. She got up and then glanced over at her pet monkey Bob who was still dozing lazily on his bean bag bed. Feeling Becky's glance, Bob slowly fluttered his eyes as he stared groggily at the young human looking child. "Morning Bob, ready to seize another glorious summer day with fun activities?" Becky enthusiastically said with a broad smile. Bob just blinked at her before rolling on his back, pretending to still be asleep. Becky huffed with annoyance at Bob's response. She hopped out of bed and walked towards him, now standing over the primate. "Come on Bob, it's a beautiful day outside. There is a lot of fun outdoor activities we can do while the sun is out. You can be lazy on rainy days." Becky stated with her hands on her hips. Bob just grunted, not convinced by her words. Becky sighed in defeat. "Will you please come outside with me if we have a picnic/tea party today?" Becky pleaded with Bob. She really wanted to spend an active day with one of her best friends today, especially since her other best friend Violet was at art camp for the whole summer again. She would have joined Violet if not for her hero duties and her lack of artistic talent keeping her homebound. Bob gave a small, affirmative chirp and an thumbs up. Becky smiled in delight. "Great, now let's head down for breakfast and get a head start on our summer vacation. Becky put on her clothes and went downstairs followed by Bob who was also eager for breakfast.

Soft humming could be heard from the kitchen as he placed down a plate filled with steaming freshly scrambled eggs and crispy side of bacon. It was lovingly made, even looking appealing to Dr. Two-Brains himself despite it having none of his beloved cheese in it. Perking up as he heard his daughter head down from her room. What perfect timing, the villain thought to himself. As always Becky didn't need him to wake her. He was still in his rather comfortable pajamas. Hair in his curlers as he didn't bother to change out of them just yet. Feeding his daughter was more important on his agenda for the morning. It didn't take long for him to prepare an omelette mixture for himself. Back turned as he heard Becky enter the kitchen and sat herself at the table. He of course couldn't forget Bob. Having a plate of food prepared for him as well.

"Good morning Princess! Anything planned for today?" He cheerfully greeted his daughter, back turned to them. When she began to tell him about her plans, he was reminded of the dream that had woken him up in a cold sweat. It had been awhile since he had that reoccurring dream. Him in his father's lab, the men barging in. Chaos breaking loose in a matter of seconds. His father no where in sight as he saw his old friend in the chaos in the floor before he was ripped away. Screaming out a name he hadn't spoken in so long.

"ad..?" It took Becky multiple times to break him from his deep thoughts.

"Dad? Dad are you okay? Your food is starting to burn. " She seemed worried, it wasn't often that he'd mess up whatever he cooked.

"Sorry sweetheart, guess my minds on something else today." He chuckled in a sheepish manner. Immediately focusing at the task at hand. Doing what he could to fix his own breakfast. Seems like crispy cheese was on the menu today. That was alright. He'd eat it anyway, Squeaky would've had a conniption if he dared to waste precious cheese.

Once placing the salvaged breakfast for himself on the table, Dr.Two-Brains joined his daughter abit too late as she finished hers as he sat down. She thanked him and gave her father a kiss on the cheek before heading out excitedly. He smiled at her, she was already so independent. A thought came to his mind. Pretty soon she won't need him at all. Growing up so fast. He could still remember the days of when she was a toddler. Becky had gone through a phase where she stuck to him. Literally. He loved to tease and remind her about it.

What was with him and reminiscing about the past today? He had found it ominous today. Sure he thought about those past events before but it was different this time. He didn't know why but he had to shake it off. Squeaky had been getting impatient with him, wanting them to eat their meal already. Giving in as he didn't want to deal with the rodents tantrums so early in the morning yet.

@ninjastormhawkkat

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shadyteacup · 3 years ago

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Hi! Im the one req 7 for chuuya sorry i didint specified, i just realized it. Can i get angst prompt 7 for chuuya?

Hiya! This pained me to write, so I made it fluffy at the end... sorry if u were looking for pure angst! I can't go to sleep peacefully peacefully after writing angst, I need to clutch my soft toys and cry myself to sleep..

Warnings: Angst to fluff, maybe a swear word at the end.. dw, it's just "bish", but like the actual word.

Word count: 2006 😳yes, I got carried away

Nakahara Chuuya + “Please wake up”

Forewarning

“Don’t move, Chu.”

You grumbled against his chest. It was yet another lazy morning for the two of you. Lazy mornings consisted of waking up late, cuddling on the bed till lunch time, getting dressed and having dinner at some exotic place, going for a long drive, then coming back home. It was a perfect day for a traditional lazy day, except for the fact it was a weekday.

Chuuya sighed. He had to get to work, and so did you. You both couldn’t afford to miss any workdays, considering that you both worked for the same organization, one that didn’t hesitate to punish for untimely work. Chuuya was an executive, and so were you. You both had multiple solo missions planned out for today and one mission wherein you both had to team up. It was going to be quite a busy day, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with. He was looking forward to some lazy cuddles in the evening, after both of your jobs were done.

“We have to get dressed, dove.”

He tried reasoning with you. You were a workaholic, just like him. It surprised him to see this lazy side of you. But then again, you must be tired, he thought.

“I know. But let’s bunk today!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convince him.

Chuckling, he pet your head affectionately.

“The mafia isn’t some school that you could just bunk. Besides, don’t you love working?”

You frowned at that. You were feeling weird today. It’s like something was forewarning you. But about what?

“I just have a bad feeling about today. I don’t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

He sighed. He was never one to believe I such things. That was why you weren’t telling him until now.

“We work in the mafia. How worse can it get?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled, getting up to get ready.

....

“The target is in the warehouse.”

Chuuya said to you. You both were currently seated in Chuuya’ s car, parked on a hill. Your stakeout point had a clear view of an abandoned warehouse. Apparently, it was the location where a rival gang was coordinating with some members of the mafia and stealing their goods. You both had already executed the moles and had sent in one of your trusted members as a pretend mole. He would send you both a signal when he felt that the security was the weakest at the entrance. You both would then attack. He was supposed to cause a commotion in there, resulting in majority of the guards to rush inside and leave the entrance wide open for you two. Your men had already sealed all exits to ensure no one got out. Now you were both waiting for the signal.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Chuuya pouted at your jab.

“I was just being thorough!”

“By stating the obvious?”

“You’re so mean.”

“Says the angry redhead.”

“What has my hair got to do with anything?!”

“Your hair has got to do with everything! I-”

A sharp sound was heard. Both you and Chuuya were blinded for a second as white filled your vision. You felt your torso pinch a little. It almost felt like someone was sticking a few needles into your tummy. You heard screams. They sounded frantic. A few moments later, your vision cleared, and you saw yourself floating in the air, a frantic Chuuya saying something to you. It all sounded mangled and mixed up. If you could have laughed at the moment, you would have laughed at how funny he sounded.

The screams had turned to cries, now. You were so confused. Who was crying? And why was Chuuya pressing down on your stomach?

Looking down, you saw the blood. There was blood everywhere. It had completely soaked your shirt. Chuuya was using his ability and his hands to keep it in. He seemed hurried. His eyes were watery, and streams of tears were flowing down his cheeks.

Finally understanding the situation, you realised that you were injured. Looking down at your torso, you saw the two bullet wounds. And now, you finally felt them. The pain was overwhelming. It rushed in like water at the breaking of a dam. It completely filled you up. You now realised that those cries of pain were actually your own. You wished to have never woken from your daze. You wanted to remain oblivious. You wanted the pain to go back to mere pinpricks. It was too much. Succumbing to the enormous pain, you let your eyes shut close. You realised that your body was going to sleep. Maybe for the last time.

....

Chuuya sat in a chair next to your sleeping form. You were lying unconscious on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. Your entire torso was covered in bandages. You had taken two bullets, one in the side and one right next to your belly button. The doctors were able to save you in time, and it was a matter of time till you gained consciousness.

Chuuya held his face in his hands. The memories of just moments prior to visiting the hospital kept running through his head. He kept seeing flashes of your blood oozing out of your body. He kept remembering the way your eyes had glazed over while he tried to apply pressure on your wounds. There was so much blood. His mere two hands were proving to be inefficient. So, he had activated his ability to push the blood back in. He had no clue if that had helped. He remembered activating his ability the moment you had let out a blood curdling scream. He had levitated you both out of the car and high up in the night sky.

He should have listened to you. Your forewarnings were right. Something terrible had ended up happening. The mole he had sent inside was found murdered by the backup team, and the head of the organization had fled. His men had taken up sniping positions all across the hills. Two of them had shot you at once. He remembered going on a mad spree and pelting boulders at all the men in his sight using his ability right before he flew to the hospital with you in his arms.

“Has she gained consciousness?”, the doctor asked as she peeked in. Chuuya had asked all medical personnel to leave him alone with his sweetheart, a little too passionately, after they were done treating you, and hence the poor doctor was a tad bit scared to check up on your vitals.

Chuuya whipped his head up.

“No.”

The doctor scrunched her brows in worry. Rushing in, she did some tests.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if the patient doesn’t wake up in another hour, we will have to declare a coma condition.”

“What?!”

The doctor jumped at his outburst, but answered him, nonetheless.

“The body is behaving as if it is already in coma. This can also be because it is repairing itself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be coma.”

She sighed.

“But, if the patient retains this state of unconsciousness, we will have to rule out a natural healing process. I suggest you try to communicate with the patient. Sit close, hold hands, maintain physical contact. Try speaking. That way, maybe the body will react to a familiar scent, touch or voice, and gain consciousness.”

Chuuya gulped, worried, and nodded.

“I understand.”

He shakily made his way to your face, observing your serene features. He hesitantly put your hair behind your ear, breathing unsteadily. He felt immense guilt and anger. He was guilty of not paying your uneasiness an ear, and he was angry because he couldn’t save you. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he would have been able to smell a rat.

“I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have been able to protect you.”

He gasped inaudibly, trying to keep his sobs in. He couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks, a symbol of his immense fear of losing you. He couldn’t bear the idea of loosing you. It might be selfish of him, but he wanted you to live, because God-forbid, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that if such a devastating situation ever occurred, he would lose all sanity and go mad. He would lose his mental balance and completely fall off the edge. He couldn’t bear to be separated from you for two days, forget the rest of his lifetime.

He caressed your cheek, smiling bitterly at your sleeping form. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he let himself truly cry. He let out all his emotions into your hair. He found comfort in your warmth. He has always felt the safest in your embrace. That’s where he could truly be himself.

He didn’t realise how long it had been when he began talking to you. Telling you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you. He pondered on how he would take his life if you left him.

“I’d have to go to that stupid mackerel for guidance. But then again, he has been unsuccessful in killing himself for 22 years. He’s probably the worst suicidal guy out there.”

He was lying next to you now, cradling your frail form in his arms.

The doctor waltzed in, a serious and sorrowful expression straining her pretty features.

“Nakahara-san, I’m so sorry.”

Chuuya gritted his teeth, holding onto you tighter.

“No! There’s still a chance that-”

“Its hopeless. The patient has already been in this state for 16 hours.”

“16 hours?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

“I gave you a lot more time. I thought maybe the constant contact would help. But sadly, it’s out of our hands now.”

Chuuya sat up, holding your face in his large palms.

“Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

He shook you gently, desperate to get any kind of reaction out of you.

“Nakahara-san! Please get away from the patient! You mustn’t cause any harm! Security?!”

The doctor rushed forward to pull Chuuya off of you, but he held onto you. He grabbed your arms, looping his own around them and pulling you towards him.

“Wake up!”

He rested his face on your chest, sobs escaping him.

“Please... please wake up...”

The doctor reached forward to clasp his shoulder, trying to pry him off of you.

A large gasp followed by couple of coughs were heard.

You took in a large breath, trying to swallow. Your throat was dry and scratchy.

“Y/N!”

Looking up, you saw Chuuya holding you in his arms, a relieved and surprised expression on his elegant features.

“Hey.”

Your voice sounded raspy, but it was music to his ears.

He engulfed you in a hug, one that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“She’s still a patient!”

The doctor reprimanded as the security guards pulled Chuuya off of you.

You smiled at the tiny ginger.

“I’m alive, Chu. Stop being dramatic.”

Chuuya laughed at your carefree attitude. He didn’t resist the men as they pulled him out of the room. He was relieved to see you awake. He didn’t care about anything else. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.

“Call Gin and tell her that I’m not dead!”

“You don’t need to call me, idiot. I was waiting right outside.”

You smiled as she walked in, giving you a hug.

“Why does she get to go in but not me?!”

Chuuya whined.

“Hey Gin, guess what?”

Gin smiled at you, sitting at the edge of your bed at the nurses did their check-ups.

“What?”

“I’m alive, bitch!”

Your snickers could be heard till the hallway, where the rest of your friends were seated. Shaking his head, Tachihara snickered.

“Good ol’ Y/N.”

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years ago

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Do you think canon Zuko has any understanding of the idea of duty? That he, especially given that he aspires to political power, should act like his status as Prince gives him certain responsibilities? That doing what's best for the for Fire Nation or the world might require him to do things which make him unhappy or uncomfortable or require him to make grave personal sacrifices? Does he even understand duty as a concept?

Oof. Complicated questions, thus, this sat in my inbox for a veeeery long time.

I honestly, seriously, genuinely... don't think Zuko truly understood, at any point in canon, what it really meant to be a leader. I know many of us (and I think you, too?) don't particularly like the comics, but in my opinion, The Promise did a surprisingly decent job at highlighting several problems left in the wake of the end of the war, and perhaps unintentionally, this is one of the problems: upon becoming Fire Lord, Zuko is remarkably erratic, unsure of his choices, even seeking advice from his FATHER, of all people, because he has no idea what he's doing.

In the most favorable possible view of Iroh, he taught Zuko to be a better person. I don't entirely adscribe to this belief, but fine, let's concede that he did, or else this answer would never end: not just because you're a good person, however, are you guaranteed to be a good leader. Zuko, as we both know, is far from the best person in the world, and he is prone to making impulsive, emotional mistakes that can cause harm and trouble, and typically, Zuko doesn't face the consequences of most his actions, or the narrative just pins the blame on someone else. When we see this sort of behavior in a real-life politician, the immediate reaction we would have is "this guy is awful at his job", and sadly, I find myself thinking that quite often when it comes to Zuko's canon tenure as Fire Lord.

So... what is Zuko's concept of duty? Going by his pursuit of Aang in the first two seasons, duty is a task given to him by someone whose approval he seeks (in this case, Ozai) and he must pull it off, no matter what, to gain said approval. By Book 3, this logic still applies fairly easily to how Zuko acts over Iroh: I've highlighted in the past that the main motivation for Zuko's redemption is Iroh, doing right by Iroh, making amends to Iroh, regretting how he treated Iroh. He points that out explicitly in Ember Island Players, he does it as well indirectly by bringing up Iroh first of all, when confronting Ozai: this is his main priority. Ergo... I'd honestly say it's safe to judge that this is what Zuko regards as duty, as what he has to do. Iroh wants him to be Fire Lord? That's exactly what he becomes. The difficulties and complications in this particular line of work are taken for granted, and so, we have an outcome that was remarkably well depicted in The Promise, despite that comic's many glaring flaws: Zuko gets swept back and forth, twisted left and right by all the pressures and responsibilities, because he has no idea what he's doing as Fire Lord, and no idea/experience in how to be a real leader.

As far as I can tell, the core of the matter is that nobody really seems to have taken Zuko all that seriously as future Fire Lord. Ozai, evidently, wasn't training Zuko to be his personal heir. Ozai himself is a questionable source of information regarding learning what it means to be Fire Lord, considering he, as well, wasn't raised to take that role, just as he didn't raise Zuko for it. Yet Iroh didn't exactly teach Zuko how to lead anyone either, as far as I can tell: his lessons were meant to be of a more personal nature, and even then, Zuko had lots of trouble accepting most of them. Iroh's firebending lessons to Zuko were typically stunted in the basics because he was hot-headed and rash about getting to the intense and interesting stuff...

So: neither Ozai nor Iroh gave Zuko actual responsibilities. Ozai gave him a punishment Zuko was trying to endure however possible, a punishment he wanted to prove himself unworthy of by finding the Avatar and "regaining his honor". Then, Iroh punished Zuko as well by giving him the cold shoulder in Book 3, then he escaped and Zuko did everything he did, after betraying Ozai, to prove himself worthy of Iroh's kindness once again. It's not actual duty, the way it is in Azula's case: no doubt, Azula wants Ozai's approval too, but she has the madman's trust when it comes to finding her brother and uncle, to taking down the Avatar, and to conquering Ba Sing Se, as far as anyone can tell. I do doubt Ozai gave her all these missions at once, but he gave her the resources through which she pulled off ALL of them: she had the firebending procession, she had a ship, she had a train-tank, she had mounts... Zuko had a rundown ship that looked like a 1:10 scale version of every other ship in the harbor back in the very third episode: he was being punished. In contrast, Azula is entrusted with a mission, with LEADERSHIP, while Zuko has no visible, tangible, objective experience with the latter (consider how Azula steals the Dai Li's loyalty from under Long Feng: when did we see Zuko pulling off something like this? Even with Jet, Zuko was more of an associate to the Freedom Fighters, and Jet was still the leader).

I've always thought Zuko wasn't prepared to be Fire Lord, and the main reasons are the ones you indirectly point out through this ask: Zuko doesn't seem to treat the throne as a responsibility, but as his right. I won't get tired of pointing out that this was NOT Zuko's birthright, he was NOT born thinking he'd be Fire Lord: he was born to the second branch in the Fire Nation family. We literally SEE the day in which Lu Ten's death is revealed to him. According to somewhat official sources? He's ELEVEN in Zuko Alone's flashbacks. I, personally, think he looks a little younger than that, but I think that's the official wikia age, no idea where they got that info but that's what it says. Meaning...

Zuko, objectively, only had been crown prince for FIVE YEARS.

Zuko was NOT raised, not by his mother, not by his father, with the belief that the throne would one day be his (Ursa is gone before Ozai is crowned and Ozai clearly wanted Azula for the job rather than Zuko).

And yet, when you backtrack to the show? It seriously looks like that was the case. He clings to the throne in Books 1 and 2 as though he had no other purpose in life, as though this was everything that was promised to him (in contrast, Azula only ever indicates wanting the throne in Sozin's Comet: Part One). Even when he's an outlaw, discarded and cast out, he STILL talks about the throne, as though most his identity were built upon the notion that he must become Fire Lord: why? How come? Within five years, he's crafted his entire existence around being the heir to the throne? That's... a bit weird.

And a bit wishful, too. Which is why I commend that the comics show him struggling as Fire Lord, if anything they should've had him struggling MORE than that, because Zuko is simply NOT prepared for these responsibilities. He never gave any indication, any sign, of seeing it as such. He sees it as his right, his birthRIGHT. Why? Why more people don't ponder how utterly strange this behavior is, beats me. But it really does bother me that Zuko built his entire existence around being Fire Lord in a very similar way to how Korra built her own about being the Avatar. I have very little praise to give LOK in general, but the premise of Korra learning she was a person, a human, and not just the Avatar felt like the perfect parallel to Aang's story, where he was very much anchored in his humility and belief that he was just "one kid", and his rejection of his duties as the Avatar was meant to change gradually as he learned to accept himself as he was. Korra, however, never fully hit the mark with this subject, in my personal opinion... much as Zuko doesn't hit the mark either, since the show's only direct attempt to "deconstrue" Zuko's clinging to the throne happens in one dialogue, and his attachment to the idea is built up again, right afterwards:

Zuko: And then ... then you would come and take your rightful place on the throne? Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko. Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes. Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation. Zuko: I'll try, Uncle.

And there we have it. The only point in the show (that I can remember) where Zuko seemed to not feel worthy of the throne and questioned he should be the one sitting on it (RIGHTFULLY!), buuuuuuuut he goes right back to wanting it, right afterwards, based on how this single exchange was enough for him to be 100% determined to take down his sister, merely a few lines later.

As for his willingness to make personal sacrifices... some might say he was outright willing to die for Katara in the finale -- though I'll point out he was trying to redirect the lightning anyway, didn't do it as well as he should have, but he wasn't exactly, consciously, trying to DIE for her... --, some might say that he left Mai behind in the FIre Nation, and that as well was a sacrifice... but was it? We don't see him missing her, or suffering about her fate, at any point in time after SHE sacrifices herself for him in the Boiling Rock (my biggest gripe over this particular canon couple is this, tbh). I feel like the show generally presents Zuko's situation as somewhat... self-sacrificial? Especially in Books 1 and 2, and yet that's really not the case: it isn't Zuko himself who makes the choice of traveling to find Aang, it's a punishment inflicted upon him.

This particular view upon his circumstances makes it so Zuko is never responsible for... well, any of his choices? It's always someone else's fault, therefore, whatever he suffers through, there's always someone he can (and usually does) resent for it. Therefore... I can't genuinely think of anything Zuko sacrificed in order to come as far as he did. He was forced to let go of things by his father, typically, by Zhao as well, maybe, but even then, it's not like we saw that he has a super healthy and happy relationship with, I don't know, Earth Kingdom people (his only meaningful positive EK bond was with Jin, which went nowhere and goes forgotten after a single mini episode)? The Palace staff? The commoners of the Fire Nation (they just treat him like a hero and he seems awkward and distant about it anyway, like he can really just do without their worship)? He doesn't have other friends beyond Azula's own friends... thus, he doesn't sacrifice anything that really matters. And in a sense, some people might say he doesn't have to sacrifice anything at all: he already went through so much strife and struggle that why would he need to sacrifice anything else? But the thing is... you DO have to learn to make such sacrifices if you're going to be a good king.

So often, people who devote themselves to their jobs have to consciously neglect their families, to name one thing: Zuko neglects Mai and she explodes at him for it in The Promise, then he just tries to get her back at all costs in Smoke & Shadow, with no thoughts given to the fact that maybe he isn't ready to juggle both a relationship and the throne, that maybe Mai could be happier with someone other than him, someone who can give her the attention and relationship she's looking for... THOSE are the sacrifices I'd be referring to, personally, sacrifices where his happiness and peace of mind have to be set aside for the sake of something much more important than himself, and I expect that's the kind of sacrifices you're referring to, too. I seriously don't think he's ready to make them, and with the comics as reference, there's seriously no evidence to suggest he's prepared to accept these burdens that come with the heavy mantle of leadership and ruling. I've never seen any signs of him being ready for it, myself. Maybe I need to reexamine the show and see if maybe I'm missing something... but I don't really think I am.

The worst part, for me, is that Zuko isn't even doing the bulk of the things he's doing in pursuit of genuine happiness: he's doing it over a sense of destiny. He never stops to reason with that destiny, to wonder if maybe he doesn't need to be Fire Lord, if maybe he could have a life beyond that role. Book 2 veeeery briefly suggests he MIGHT be on his way to questioning that destiny, but as I've said before, I don't see the sense in Zuko's big change of heart after the Appa incident considering we don't really understand what he's learned, other than how to be the perfect nephew for Iroh, apparently. Zuko never really is happy, as he says in the show: his happiest moments are with Mai and they're only like a 25% of his relationship with her, everything else is a mess (and his relationship with her isn't exactly the core of his character, either). So, the way I see it... Zuko is even worse off than it looks at first glance. He's out to fulfill a destiny he has never stopped to reason with, a destiny he's 100% sure is his, despite he has only been on that path, objectively, for five years? Despite he wasn't raised all along under the belief that this was what he was supposed to be? If given a chance to be genuinely happy, what on earth would he even do? A lot of the growth I gave him in Gladiator was based on that particular question: is the throne really what Zuko needs to be happy? It doesn't look like it, even in canon. If it's not... then it's not happiness he seeks, it's some sort of sense of assurance that he's doing the right thing, according to the figure of authority he follows at a set point in time: by Book 3, said authority is Iroh, and Iroh wants him on the throne. His motivation, as far as I can see it, is as simple as that.

Long story short... I don't think Zuko really has a strong grasp on many concepts that he absolutely should have reasoned with and worked out in order to become Fire Lord. In a sense, he's way too young for the role he's given, for the heavy burdens he has to deal with, and I'll NEVER see the sense in not having Iroh taking the throne (beyond how "poetic" the creators and writers found it to crown Zuko to finish his story, of course), at least for a short time, before Zuko can be ready. This is exactly why I wrote things that way in my oneshot where Azula takes Zuko's role, more or less: Iroh serves as regent while Azula prepares for taking the full role of Fire Lord when she's ready. I love her, she's awesome, I absolutely adore her character... but I don't think an Azula who was sidelined and sent on a long voyage with her uncle for YEARS could possibly be ready for the responsibilities of being Fire Lord right away.

Meanwhile? Iroh was given leadership of military missions enough times that he became a general in the Fire Nation forces. By all evidence, he was Fire Lord Azulon's pampered and spoiled son, whom he DID prepare for the duties of a Fire Lord for as long as Iroh was born: Iroh literally had fifty-ish years of preparation, as far as I can tell? How is he NOT the better suited person to take the throne, if just temporarily, while his nephew learns what it really means to rule by watching him, or by maybe learning leadership by managing smaller duties first, a specific town or city, and then putting his knowledge to good use by becoming Fire Lord properly?

Eh... because it wouldn't be an epic enough finale for the show, I suppose. That's the only answer I can find for this particular question.

So... yeah. That got long :'D but in short... I don't think Zuko has a strong grasp on responsibility and duty, let alone on the burdens inherent to these concepts. Yet more reasons why his character's arc can't hit all the marks it should, imo, to make it as great as the whole fandom is already convinced it is.

#zuko-always-lies #more zuko meta #and it got long #:'D #if anyone needs a read more #let me know and I'll add it #but for now #it is what it is #you know it really is sad to write all this when I'm more or less making peace with Zuko via Gladiator #and actually making him reason with soooo much stuff #that he never really had to in the show #*siiiiigh*#he'll never be my fav #that much is obvious #but he could be MORE #and it's sad that he's not #very sad

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left, boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school, taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts au #hoseok au #bts smut #hoseok smut

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purpletaecup · 4 years ago

Photo

10 ☾ he said that’s how he still remembers me

warnings: explicit language (cursing), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of infidelity (not rlly but on thin ice)

notes: you guys... this is a long one and it’s kind of fast paced, but we are finally getting some answers and the drama really begins! next chapter will be emotional, that’s all I know. I’m sorry for putting you through all this angst!! also, I wanted to bring some attention to the crisis in the Philippines right now with all of the dangerous typhoons. A lot of people need donations and rescuing, so HERE is a link to a twitter thread of donation drives! Please make sure to check it out, share and help spread awareness!

as always, come talk to me in my ask box! and if you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, or reply to this post or the masterlist!

not edited!! sorry if there are any mistakes lmfao i usually am sleep deprived when i write so yeah, there are probably some errors.

word count: 5,614

☾

The days following Jungkook’s visit were dull, if anything. You’ve received texts from Yoongi saying that he couldn’t come visit until that weekend because he had to finish wrapping things up in advance at the company so that he could spend some time with you. You had argued over the phone like teenagers when you insisted that he didn’t need to do that and you could take care of yourself until Jin came back. Of course, that led to him ranting about what the doctor said about monitoring you and your symptoms for concussion and to get him to just shut up about the medical stuff (it made your brain hurt more than it did usually), you reluctantly agreed to his ‘visits’, as you’d rather call them.

[nov. 20, 2020]

It was Friday now and you still haven’t gotten any glimpse of actual memories back, although you have been having these strange dreams that you couldn’t really remember when you woke up. You could only describe the feeling it gave you as ‘sinking’, like you were drowning and you couldn’t escape. As much as possible, you tried not to think about these feelings, and focused more on trying to get to know the version of you who lived in this amazing apartment.

The past couple of days that you spent at this apartment put you in awe. It really was the apartment of your dreams, from the color of the furniture down to the little plants stuck in the corner of that tiny shelf in the kitchen. It was beautiful and so you. The only problem was that you couldn’t find anything to help with your current situation. You scoured every nook and cranny and couldn’t find anything dated after your wedding reception. No pictures, no post-its, notes or anything past that date. What you had found in your apartment, you already knew of (aside from the wedding photos). Past photoshoots, high school photos, a notebook full of movie ticket stubs. There was absolutely nothing in this apartment that gave you a clue to the life you lived during the four year gap in your memory.

You even tried to get into your twitter and instagram from when you were nineteen but you couldn’t log in. Wrong password every single time. When you tried to change your password for social media, the email you used had a different password too. You couldn’t figure out what you could have changed your password to. Every password combination you could think of, you tried, but none worked, so you decided to just skip that and maybe go over it later on. Or make a new one. That could work, too.

You couldn’t even look at your twitter account because for some reason, it was private and that seemed strange for someone with almost 130,000 followers. You could see your instagram account from your browser, but it wouldn’t let you see the pictures and posts in full size with the captions and comments, so you were really stuck.

A quick internet search of your name yielded things you already knew. Former model, current writer (that fact was still surprising to you). Old news articles of dating scandals that weren’t true, except for the one with Yoongi. More news articles about your divorce with no further information than what Yoongi had told you already.

It’s as if any clue about your life during your memory loss is unaccounted for. It seemed like at this point, you could only rely on other people telling you about your life and pray to whatever higher power there was to give you your memories back.

This futile search was beginning to make your stomach churn. You almost couldn’t suppress the bile rising up in your throat. Hopefully Jin would return soon. Maybe he could put all of the pieces back together for you.

☾

Jungkook sat in on the uncomfortable leather couch in Yoongi’s office as he waited for the man to finish up whatever he was typing. He looked through his instagram feed and saw one of your posts from July. For a while, he was confused as to why this picture from July would end up on his feed, but he remembered the new instagram algorithm. Curious, he clicked on your profile and looked through it slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to your posts.

“I forgot to ask but what did you and Yn do at her apartment? She said you stayed over for a couple of hours.” Yoongi asked though his eyes never strayed from his paperwork.

Jungkook looked up at him and pondered on what to say.

“Hm, yeah. I got roped into staying. She asked a bunch of questions and we looked through her apartment and her photo albums. Her apartment’s cute, by the way. Way different from what your house looked like.” He comments.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was bright. Lots of green. Nothing I’ve ever seen in the house you guys shared.”

“How was she when you picked her up? She told me a couple of things but I haven’t seen her yet so I can’t know if what she’s telling is the truth or not.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of turning pages filling the room, as Jungkook wondered what to say to this. He didn’t really know when to start with you, especially with how different you were acting.

“Well, she’s fine. The personality is definitely different. She seems a lot more outgoing, and she had a lot of questions but she didn’t push. I think she wants to try and figure things out on her own.” Jungkook replies as he continued to slowly look through your previous instagram posts.

“She’s been like that. She hates being a burden and gets really defensive about it sometimes.” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook pauses at your most recent post. He checks the date. September 22.

“When did you guys divorce again?” He asked.

At this, Yoongi looked up.

“The divorce was finalized on September 29, I think.” He answered, but looked questioningly at Jungkook as if to ask why.

“Did you know she was going to therapy?” Jungkook asked again.

Hearing this, Yoongi stood up abruptly and hurried over to where Jungkook was sitting.

“What? Where did you see that?” Yoongi asked as he looked over Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook showed him the post. Yoongi took the phone from him and examined the post carefully.

It was a picture of clouds with text on it. Is this the life we really want? The caption read “as per the advice of my therapist, i’m just here to pop in and say that I’ll be going on a hiatus for a little bit”.

“What the fuck? I didn’t know this!” Yoongi yelled, evidently angry.

Jungkook looked at him confused. They were together for four years, how could he not know that you were at least going to therapy?

The same question was running through Yoongi’s head. He took a seat next to Jungkook to process this new information.

“Hyung, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Jungkook requested.

Yoongi could only nod.

“What was Yn like when you were together? Why did you marry her?” Those were the first questions that came out of Jungkook’s mouth.

He was truly, genuinely curious. Though he’s heard some things that Yoongi had said about you, he never knew the full story.

“We married each other because we loved each other. Wasn’t that obvious?” Yoongi retorted.

Jungkook pursed his lips at this. “Well that's what you tell everybody and yeah we get it, but considering the fact that I’ve barely seen you two together more than two handful of times in the past two years, I had to ask.”

“That’s because we were both busy, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spend time together. Of course you never saw it because you weren’t there and I’m not one to actively talk about my love life. Yn and I both liked our privacy.”

“Okay, then what was she like when you were together?”

Yoongi was quiet for a while. There were a lot of things he could say about you when you were together. He just didn’t know how to articulate it to Jungkook.

“When we were together… she was charismatic, beautiful and intelligent. Something about the way she communicated made you feel like you could forget about all of your worries and live life to its extent with her. She constantly dragged me out to picnics and made me forget about the business and my career. She made me feel young again. And she had so much love and care for people around her. For a long time, I felt like I would never be deserving of her. She was kind of like a sunflower. Or sunshine, you know what I mean?” Yoongi poured out.

Jungkook nodded. He realized that this was the time to try to figure out what happened to you in your marriage. From his conversation with you at your apartment, to the description of you that Yoongi had just given, he surmised that the version of you that he knew was someone different and he could only wonder if Yoongi saw it too.

“Did you ever feel like she changed? In the time you guys were together?” He probed.

Yoongi thought about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I always found it strange that she decided to quit modelling. When I met her, she said it was all she ever wanted. I never asked because it seemed like a sensitive topic to her, but I supported her regardless. Writing seemed so out of nowhere for her. I don’t know where it came from. Then she stopped wanting to go to business dinners and events with me and after that we just drifted. And in between that, you introduced me to Yura.”

When Yoongi mentioned Yura, Jungkook winced. He had thought about it some nights ago, but he realized that he might have had a hand in your divorce by introducing Yura to Yoongi. Though he knows Yoongi would have never physically cheated on you, he could see how Yoongi and Yura gravitated towards each other. Jungkook had to admit that Yura was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and when she smiled it was like sunshine.

Yoongi interrupted his train of thought. “Yura is kind of a complicated subject to our marriage. I would never, ever cheat on someone I loved. And I loved Yn, so much. When you introduced Yura to me, I was happy to meet a new friend and that’s all I saw, but the more you made me hang out with you guys, the more I started to see something in her that I stopped seeing in Yn. I never meant to have any sort of romantic feelings for Yura, but it happened and I feel so fucking shitty for doing that to Yn when I’m the one who promised her a lifetime together.”

Jungkook straightened his posture as Yoongi’s confession.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“By what?” Yoongi looked at him confused.

“What happened to Yn that pushed you to Yura?”

At this, Yoongi scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t say that it pushed me to Yura, but remember when I said Yn and I started getting distant? As time went on, I felt like she changed and I didn’t know who she was. She used to be so bubbly and happy and always wanting to go look at flowers, but towards the end of our marriage, she stayed holed up in our room no matter how much I asked her to spend time with me. Yura, she was happy to spend time with me. She made me feel like I could forget about everything just by talking to me.”

“Yura made you feel like how Yn used to make you feel?” Jungkook cut him off.

“Well… I guess so.”

Jungkook thought about this for a while but narrowed his eyes at his hyung.

“Hyung, answer this truthfully; do you love Yura?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red after hearing this.

“Love? I don’t know. I like her? I like the way she makes me feel. She’s beautiful and smart and she makes me happy.”

“Hyung, I don’t know if you realize this, but the way you described Yura is exactly the same way you described Yn.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you started liking Yura because she reminded you of Yn when you met her. So, do you really, truly like Yura? Or do you just like her because she reminds you of what you don’t have anymore?”

Yoongi lowered his head.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought of it like that.”

Jungkook put his hand on Yoongi’s back to comfort him. Obviously, the man was confused.

“I don’t know if this helps, but I just wanted to let you know that whenever I saw Yn, during those dinners or events, she never gave off the vibe that you described her to be. To me, she was quiet, reserved and never bothered trying to get to know us, your friends, or your business. That’s what she came off as. When you told us that you loved each other and that you eloped, I thought you were joking. When I saw her, she just seemed like the typical trophy wife. Just for show. I never liked her and wondered what you saw in her all the fucking time, but now after hearing this, and after being with her for a couple of hours, it’s obvious that something happened that fucked her up and then fucked your marriage up.” Jungkook ranted.

“I think you might need to reevaluate the relationship you had with Yn so we could help her recover from this whole amnesia thing and hopefully figure out what happened. Something definitely happened, but since I don’t know your marriage like you do, I don't know what it is. I feel guilty now after realizing that I might have had a hand in whatever the fuck she was going through. And maybe figure out what you’re going to do about Yura. Can you keep dating her when your feelings for her are based off of your feelings for your ex-wife, who is currently pregnant with your wife and doesn’t know about it?” He continued.

Yoongi took a deep breath, taking all of this conversation in.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost done with the shit here at the company. When I go home, I’ll sort everything out and talk to Yn and Yura tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep seeing Yura with the current situation. I have to tell Yn about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but I’m scared because the doctor told me to monitor for residual symptoms for her concussion. I don’t even know where to begin with the situation.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here for you. You have to tell her about the pregnancy before she finds out herself. In the meantime, I’ll help you out when you can’t take care of her. I already feel shitty enough for how I acted with her when you two were married. I feel like I had the wrong impression this whole time.” Jungkook offered.

Yoongi remembered the moment earlier when Jungkook confessed that he never liked you and that baffled him because he thought that you two, of all people, would get along well together. More often than not, he would feel jealous of Jungkook, who had your admiration when you first started dating. He remembered you always asking him to introduce you to Jungkook and it took a year for him to budge and actually make it happen.

“I’m sure you’ll get along now. I always thought you did get along. Did you know she liked you before?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t know until the other day when you had me take her home. It probably would have helped if you told me she knew who I was before you introduced us after you got together. She never acted like she was a fan of my music and admittedly, I was a dick to her.”

Yoongi glared at him. It was a first for him to hear about how Jungkook treated his ex-wife.

“Well, you should feel shitty because she really liked you and your music. For a while, I thought she liked you more than me. If I had known you were an asshole to her, I probably would have ripped you a new one. Hearing you admit you treated her like shit makes me feel like shit because I never knew and just assumed you guys were good with each other. You didn’t do or say anything bad to her, right? You’re not that type of person.”

Jungkook could only pretend to smile at Yoongi as he asked this.

He shook his head and lied. “No, never.”

Lying through his teeth to his best friend about how he treated you made his heart fall to his stomach. Well, Yoongi didn’t have to know because it was in the past. You couldn’t remember any of the mean things he’d said to you, so now was the perfect time to make a new, much better impression of himself to you. He decided days ago that he would be better, because deep down, he knew that you didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you.

[nov. 21, 2020]

Yoongi had taken the day off after his somewhat enlightening conversation with Jungkook last night. He decided that he needed to go see you and spend some time with you today, but before that, he needed to settle things with Yura.

They decided to meet up at his apartment for maximum privacy, just in case anything happened. He wanted to account for the worst case scenario of Yura probably getting angry and throwing things around, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to do dramatic things like that.

Turns out, she’s not. When he reluctantly tells her that he can’t continue on with what they had because of residual feelings for you, in addition to the fact that there were complications in that relationship that he can’t speak about carelessly, she had reacted calmly and amicably. Though Yoongi hadn’t expected her to throw a tantrum, he was expecting some kind of anger, but all he got was a sad look passing on her face followed by comforting words.

He apologized profusely for having dragged her around when he still had apparent feelings for his ex-wife and not figuring out his feelings for her, or lack thereof, sooner. She reassured him that it was okay and she’ll be fine.

“I’ll be fine Yoongi. I liked you, but it’s pretty obvious that you used me as some kind of rebound or replacement for your ex-wife, and I was okay with it. Truthfully, I was waiting for you to just come clean and break it off with me. I hope you and Yn figure things out this time, and I hope you can talk to her. Communication is important.” She reminds him before she leaves, but not before letting him know that she would always be there for him as a friend.

He had texted her after she left, and after a couple of minutes to himself, that he was thankful for her being so nice about the situation and all in all, he didn’t regret whatever short-lived affection they had for each other.

Yoongi still couldn’t believe how smoothly everything with Yura went. He hoped that the rest of the day would be the same.

☾

You woke up to a message from Jungkook asking if you were free, so you had to tidy up the apartment and yourself because you didn’t want to look messy in front of someone you had idolized for a long time.

Luckily enough, you didn’t have to cook since Jungkook offered to bring food. You thank your lucky stars for that because for some reason, you’ve been feeling incredibly sluggish and nauseous. It was probably some symptoms of the concussion you suffered. You remembered your doctor saying something about that the last time you were at the hospital.

About 20 minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring so practically skip to the door, excited to see Jungkook and steal the food that he brought.

You opened the door to see Jungkook standing there with a big back of food in his hands. He was wearing all black, with a leather jacket that looked a tad too big on him.

“You look warm.” You comment.

He rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna invite me in or not? I even brought you food.”

You laugh a little and move to the side to give him room to step inside the apartment.

“So, what have you been doing?” He asks as he makes his way to your dining room to put the food down.

You make your way to the kitchen to get some plates for the both of you.

“Nothing. I’ve been trying to look for some stuff but I don’t know where to start so I just gave up until you or Yoongi could come help.” You reply as you move to the dining room to set the plates down.

Jungkook takes the food out and puts some on the plates. Kimbap, like you asked, and some seaweed soup.

“How have you been feeling? Okay?” He questioned.

You nodded, though hesitantly.

“Eh, I’ve been feeling kind of tired. I think I might be sick because I keep wanting to vomit. Is that my wintermelon tea, by the way?” You pointed to the drink in his hand.

Jungkook poked the straw through the lid and handed it to you.

“Sick? Did you take any medicine? Are you feeling better now?”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed, missing the sweet taste of the drink. It felt nostalgic.

“Mhm, took some earlier and I'm feeling much better thanks to the food you brought!” You smiled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes jokingly once again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t think about your illness any further. It was probably a cold and nothing else.

For about 20 minutes, the two of you ate and spoke about little things, mostly about Jungkook and his career. It helped you get to know him a little bit better since he’s the only person besides Yoongi who could help you in your situation until Jin comes back.

After you finished eating, you told him that you needed his help going through your room in case there was anything that could jog your memory.

“I would ask Yoongi but he’s been busy lately.”

“So I’m just your last resort?”

“You’re literally the only other person in my contact list besides Yoongi and Jin.”

“Right, anyways, lead the way!” He exclaimed.

You laughed as you led him to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I didn’t have that much time to clean up before you got here!” You explained.

Jungkook shook his head, telling you it didn’t really matter since it was gonna be a mess anyways while you two went through your things.

☾

When Jungkook walked into your room, he was once again hit with the feeling that he had no fucking clue who you were in the past years he’d known you. If he could describe your room in one word, it would be enchanting. White walls, white sheets adorn with a baby blue blanket, wooden floors, giant plants and a mirror much bigger than himself. Your desk was filled with different kinds of pens, different notebooks that look to have been trifled through, and an unnatural amount of books and crystals.

From the looks of the rest of your house, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at your bedroom, but it’s still a bit difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that you were this type of person. Bright, intelligent, and incredibly neat.

He walked up to your desk and picked up the different notebooks laid out messily on the table. When he opened each of them, he noticed that they were mostly blank, with the exception of a few doodles. There were some things he’d recognized as lyrics from songs he knew, but nothing truly relevant to the memories you lost.

You stood next to Jungkook and looked at the notebooks in his hands.

“I went through those already. Nothing but a few sad lyrics here and there. None of them triggered any memories.” You mentioned.

Jungkook put them down and started walking around the room with you as you talked about what you did find during the days that you were left alone. What he got from that conversation was that you had no luck with anything and that’s why you waited until either he or Yoongi could come over and help you. Jungkook knew that Yoongi was coming over later, so if he couldn’t help you find anything or answer any of your questions today, then maybe Yoongi could.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that I can’t even access any of my social media, so do you think I can look through my instagram through your phone? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I know some people feel uncomfortable giving their phone to someone else to play around with.” You asked.

Jungkook shook his head and stuck his hand in his pant pocket, reaching for his phone.

“It’s fine, you can look at your profile, I think I follow you. The password is 061313.” He stated as he handed his phone over to you.

You grabbed it excitedly, finally getting the chance to see what your life was like during the four years that were missing from your memory. You fell back onto your bed as you unlocked Jungkook’s phone and clicked on his instagram app quickly.

You took a look at his profile first, staring in awe at the pictures he’s posted. Most of his pictures are very dark and he had quite a few selfies. You smiled a little bit as you admitted in your head that he was indeed handsome.

Okay, Yn, onto the more important things! You thought to yourself as you quickly searched your username ‘faeyn’ on the search bar. At first you were excited, but it deflated when you saw just how many posts you had. 13 posts. And almost all of them were just landscapes. Some had pictures of you by yourself, or with Jin, but that was it. How the fuck were you supposed to try to figure out your life through 13 pictures?

Scrolling through each picture and their captions from the oldest to newest, you quickly realized that you must have decided that privacy was something that should be valued. There was nothing of substance to your situation in the captions you’d written. Just casual mentions of how your day was, or what you did that day. The only thing that caught your eye was the latest post you had, dated September 22. It was a picture of clouds and the caption said something about your therapist advising you to take a break, so you were going to be on a social media cleanse for a while.

Well, at least you learned one thing. Apparently, you started going to therapy again. For what? You don’t know. You only remembered going to therapy a couple of times after the whole incident with your bastard ex-boyfriend.

You filed this little detail into your brain and hoped that maybe it would make more sense later on. Swiping up on Jungkook’s phone took you to his home screen, but you paused for a little. Maybe you could snoop through some more apps and see if there was anything else you can find.

No, that would be an invasion of Jungkook’s privacy, you thought. Another part of you argued that he wasn’t going to know and he’s here to help you. If there was anything worth hiding, he wouldn’t have given you his phone and his password so easily. And if there was anything, it wouldn’t be incriminating since he mentioned that you two didn’t really know each other that well, so you shrugged and clicked on his messages.

I’ll just see if there are any messages to me. I won’t look at anything else, you justified, as if it made it any better.

After scrolling for a little while, you finally saw something worthwhile. A text convo between you and Jungkook and from the preview of the message, it looks like it was from the middle of September. You opened it, excited to see the contents, but what you saw made you furrow your brows.

What is this?

☾

After Jungkook gave you his phone, he continued walking around your room until he got to the side of your bed that was next to the window. He looked around for a bit and saw something in the corner of his eyes. Crouching down lower, he saw something on the floor behind your headboard. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but as soon as he moved closer, he realized it was a thick notebook. Jungkook surmises that you probably hadn’t seen it despite telling him that you looked ‘everywhere’. He took the notebook and sat down on the floor, completely hiding his figure, but not before he could look at you. He wanted to see what was in the notebook before he showed it to you, and luckily enough, you had been facing away from him.

So he sat down and opened the notebook. From just the first page, he could tell it was some kind of diary or journal. There were lots of drawings and stickers and a picture of you in a field of flowers right in the middle of the first page. He flipped through the whole notebook really quickly and found that half of it was already filled.

A part of him wanted to read through the whole thing and see what kind of things you wrote, but another part told him that it wasn’t appropriate. Despite that, he convinced himself that he should read maybe just one entry, just to see if this notebook was something substantial to your current situation.

Jungkook took a peek at you again and noticed you still had your back turned to him so he took that as a sign that he could probably get away with reading an entry. He flipped to a page randomly and focused his eyes on the writing.

The entry was dated August 4, 2020. Fairly recent. He noticed that there were some dark blotches on the paper that made the ink bleed.

He began to read the entry, not knowing what he was going to find out.

It still seems weird to be writing about my problems in a journal. I’m still not used to it, but it’s been helpful since I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.

That made him frown.

I went to my OBGYN today because I’ve been having severe cramps and bleeding, but I already had my period so I was worried. And the cramps were starting to really hurt, so I had to go get it checked out just in case. Well, apparently I was pregnant and lost the baby.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Luckily enough, it wasn’t loud enough for you to notice. He clasped his hand over his mouth at the disbelief in reading this information. A miscarriage? And so recent, too. He didn’t know how to feel. Yoongi had never said anything about this.

Jin actually just left my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the news hit me until now. I texted Yoongi earlier to tell him but he was busy so I think that was a sign that I should probably not tell him. It’s not like it matters right? Since the baby was gone anyways.

I know my therapist told me to stop with the negative self-talk, but it’s moments like this that really push me to just keep thinking I’ll never be good enough for the men that I love. Thanks to my bastard ex for fucking my mind up like this. No matter how hard I try, I always just circle back to the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him, and that I’m not good enough for Yoongi. Even fate is telling me that I’m not good enough to carry a child with the man I love. How fucked up is that?

Jungkook’s heart dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. There were so many things going through his head right now. He felt like he was violating something that was so private. Yoongi didn’t even know that you went through this. You didn’t even know you went through this. He shut the journal quickly, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes.

At that exact moment, he heard your heavy breathing and quickly got up to check on you. He walked around to your side of the bed and found you trembling with his phone in your hands. He noticed that his messages were open and he began to panic.

“What the fuck is this?” was the last thing he heard you say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you fell limp into your bed.

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jekunitrash · 3 years ago

Text

A very short one-shot for Jeje and Mikuni's birthdays

I know I'm late for Mikuni, please just consider the story is taking place on October 1st.

Mikuni wasn't fond of parties. Not anymore, at least. There used to be a time when the manor got pretty lively on this particular day. But now, even though he wasn't there to witness it, he could imagine it was but a plain and normal day at the Alicein mansion. Of course, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy all the attention, the presents, the praises, and everything that came along with celebrating his birthday. It was just... something he could live without. Compared to the other, more considerable losses, this one was irrelevant. Laughable, even. And yet, it was at this very moment, that Mikuni felt the loneliest. It wasn't the celebration in itself he missed, but the people who were there to take part in it. People he loved and couldn't see anymore, people who had loved him in return and couldn't anymore. For quite various reasons, but the conclusion was the same. His deceased mother could never wish him happiness again, and neither would Misono nor his father.

Today could have been a delightful day, but all joy had died that night, as well. Celebrating had become meaningless, worse, it would be painful more than anything. From now on, Mikuni's birthday would be a regular day. That was what he wanted.

So why did his chest hurt so much? He had come to terms with his past decisions, since then. He'd known about the consequences. He preferred it being like this, a hundred times more than what could have been. But it still hurt. Maybe because this date was special, maybe because he only truly realized now all that he'd lost. Perhaps it was because he knew no one could make today the same as before, too. For all of those reasons, Mikuni felt empty like he hadn't felt in a while.

Then, he remembered a conversation he once had with Tsurugi. About being jealous of him. Obviously, the blond had denied it. What could he possibly envy about the raven? His situation was just as bad, if not worse than his. But as of now, it did feel like jealousy. Tsurugi may not have the best life here at C3, but he at least had Touma and a few friends to think about his birthday. Mikuni didn't even have that. It was such a pathetic thought, but it was true nonetheless. Tsurugi had something Mikuni didn't. And he sometimes hated him for it.

Jeje turned around upon hearing someone sneeze, and sighed when he saw it was only Tsurugi.

"Tissues... on the table...you should... dress warmer. Fall... is already here."

"Sure, thanks, Jeje-chan!" The man said, hopping on a chair. "This mission was so boring, I couldn't wait to come back. Where is Kuni?"

Jeje swayed from one foot to another, visibly uneasy.

"He is still... working. He said... he wanted calm and... silence."

Tsurugi downright pouted, a childish mannerism to express his disappointment. "Heeeeh, is he for real? Today is his birthday, though. Where is the fun in filling out paperwork?"

The vampire fumbled with his sleeves. "I don't think... he is... looking forward to his... birthday." He muttered, and Tsurugi noticed the hint of guilt in his voice.

"Well, for starters, did you wish him an happy birthday? That could help." He said, a brow raised.

"He... probably... doesn't want to hear it from me..."

The raven leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his chin resting on his hands. He looked irritated somehow and that sure was something new.

"Jeje-chan, that is, how should I put it? Yeah, you're being stupid."

The taller man was about to get irritated as well, but Tsurugi went on.

"Look, what I'm saying is, you can't know how he feels nor what he wants if you don't ask or try. Kuni-chan has no one besides you to remember - well, I happen to know because it's written on his registration - but anyway, of course it would make him happy to hear it. That's only natural. Even if he denies or try to hide it behind a facade, he has a heart. And he's too sensitive for his own liking."

Jeje bit on his lower lip, pondering on what the raven had just said. He knew his eve had been moody since this morning, just as he knew his family's absence, today of all days, was weighing on him. He just felt like it wasn't his part to play.

"Even so..." he began eventually, "I can't replace... his family. It will never... be the same, for him."

Tsurugi was quiet for a moment, as for once, he was thinking of the best way to say things. It was soon obvious what he should tell Jeje.

"Okay, you may be right. It will indeed never be the same. But it doesn't have to be such a bad thing. What I mean is, from now on, what you have to do is to make it as good as you can. And then, little by little, you will both get new habits and find a way of your own to celebrate it. Kuni-chan... he's stubborn, and I'm sure he can be resentful, but he has a sense of what's right and what's not. So it's unlikely that he hates you to begin with. Therefore, being wished a happy birthday, even if you're not best friends, would still make him a little joyful."

Silence followed his statement. Jeje couldn't argue against that, as his analysis of Mikuni was so sharp. He was admittedly impressed, since Tsurugi always acted like an idiot. He hadn't thought he could have such a good understanding of people. After being stared at insistently for a solid thirty seconds, Jeje resigned himself.

"Alright... I will... talk to him."

The raven smiled like a contented child, his arms proudly crossed on his chest.

"Good, good!"

The afternoon was near it's end when Mikuni got it over with, not that it mattered. All he wanted was for this day to finish quickly, so maybe the one after he would forget about it already. It was so frustrating. He knew there was nothing he could do to change anything now, but it was bugging him nonetheless. It was as though a little, pestering voice kept reminding him, 'hey, you're all alone for your birthday. You ruined everything, so this is entirely your fault, tough'. And at this point he was tempted to go to sleep if it meant it would shut up. It would most likely have to wait, if the knock on the door was anything to go by.

He'd be lying again if he said he wasn't a tad bit surprised to see Jeje.

" What? I said I needed calm, didn't I?"

While it was far from an engaging start, his tone wasn't as spiteful as he had meant it to be. He had mostly sounded tired.

"I know... but you've been here all afternoon and... I thought you should... take a break." Jeje mumbled, which made Mikuni look at him quizzically. He had never acted out of his own initiative before. Rather, he had never gone against his eve's indications.

"Oh." Mikuni said, "Well, there is no need anyway. I'm done."

"That's... good."

Well, now it was awkward. Mikuni wasn't too sure, be it because of the fatigue or the unrealistic side of the situation, but was Jeje acting shy?

"Yeah, I guess." He spoke, "If that was all-"

But, unexpectedly enough, Jeje wasn't done, and Mikuni stopped midway after hearing a distant voice.

"Ha..."

The blond eve frowned, Jeje was being so weird and he had no idea why. Plus, he wasn't in the mood and it was beginning to annoy him.

"What?" He asked, and this time the vampire straightened his posture a little more.

"... happy birthday."

Mikuni legit blinked, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Huh?" He genuinely thought he had misheard, that he was imagining things. But his servamp surprised him even more by repeating that sentence. Louder, and firmer.

"Happy birthday, Mikuni."

The eve closed his mouth, opened it again, and in the end closed it. His troath felt dry for some reason, and his chest stinged in a manner that was oddly familiar. It was a strange warmth that spread and that he used to identify as joy.

Jeje was standing here, perfectly still, apparently waiting for an answer of sort. The way his mouth formed a line indicated that he wasn't too sure of what to do next, and Mikuni himself would have liked a notice.

At last, the only logical thing he could do was to thank him, and even then, he had trouble to process it. The embarrassed mess who spoke was totally not him, either.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Thank you."

Jeje seemed to relax afterwards, but it was still strangely tense. Mostly because Mikuni had a hard time believing it had happened. The vampire tried to think of a normal thing to do in this situation, or remember something the Alicein used to do on their birthdays. But then he recalled that Tsurugi had adviced to do something new, and decided he should just ask his eve at this point.

"So... Is there something... you want to do? Or eat?"

Truthfully, Mikuni's face was priceless, and perhaps someday he could even laugh about it, but not now. Right now Jeje was relieved, above all things.

"Some good tea would be nice, I suppose." Mikuni said eventually. "Also, a midnight stroll in the park. And why not cake, but I'm not going to eat it by myself, so... "

It was Jeje's turn to be started, and despite not being fond of sweet things, he couldn't turn down the offer.

"I... see. Then... I'll... have some. If that's... okay."

And then, Mikuni smiled for the first time in months.

"That would be alright."

Jeje poured a second cup of Ceylan tea for his eve, while the latter cut the small cake they had just bought. Tsurugi's present had been to negotiate a night out of C3 base without surveillance, and it was admittedly the best. Mikuni had cringed upon having the raven pester him about his birthday, of course, but his soft expression later on had told Jeje that he was thankful. The servamp could feel himself smiling, ever so slightly, as he put the cup on the table, and he was glad for the way it had all played out in the end. Mikuni was indeed loving his birthday, in a way, despite everything, and it was all the vampire could ask for.

It was when they were coming back from their walk, couple hours later, that Mikuni asked him out of the blue.

"By the way, Jeje. When is your birthday?"

Then again, it startled him. For one thing, no one had asked him that in a long, very long time. And for another one, he had stopped caring since he had become an immortal monster and had incidentally forgotten about it.

"I... don't know." He replied simply.

Mikuni hummed, and when the clocks indicated one minute past midnight, arbitrarily declared,

"In that case, your birthday should be today".

#servamp #mikuni alicein #jeje #jekuni #fanfiction #tsurugi kamiya

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Text

Kara Danvers x Reader #8

Words: 2,333

Summary: reader trades half her life for Kara’s

Warnings: Death, Depression

Notes:

I just wanted to nerd about philosophy and ponder about psychological egoism and it turned into this...sorry about spelling mistakes.

———

Psychological egoism; the theory that no one can truly be selfless. The theory that, even when we’re helping others, deep down we’re acting in our own self-interest.

When you came across the theory a couple of months ago you thought it was ridiculous. It was something you couldn’t believe, not when your girlfriend seemed like the paragon of selflessness.

Kara.

Kara who risks her life everyday for the people of National City, Kara who risks her life for the world. Kara who has lost, and Kara who keeps on fighting anyways. Kara who cares, who cares so much.

Kara gives, and she gives, and she gives, and she’s dying because of it now, so she isn’t a bad person. She isn’t a bad person, but now you’re starting to think that selfishness doesn’t necessarily need to mean bad. When selfishness brings you to help others, it isn’t a bad thing. It can’t be.

You don’t want to be a bad person. You have to believe that the decision you made an hour ago was the right one, because when the disfigured voice spoke to you with it’s compelling offer of; half of your life for Kara’s survival/revival...you couldn’t say no.

———

When Kara wakes up from her coma a day later, not even the mystery voice saying: “it’s done” in it’s weird enchanting voice keeps you from your relief and joy.

If your decision was ‘selfishy good’ in nature, if it was just selfless, or even if it was just plain selfish...well, you can’t really bring yourself to care right now because Kara is smiling and hugging you and...and fuck everything else.

This is worth it. Even if you hit the halfway point of your life tomorrow and die...this is worth it. It’s Kara. Kara who sacrifices a lot, but Kara whose worth sacrifices too. So yeah. ‘It’s done’... and it’s okay.

———

It’s not okay.

It’s not okay because when you get into a near death experience a year after Kara looks at you like she just experienced another world dying.

She holds you when you wake up in the hospital bed like you’re made of glass. She holds you like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

It’s not okay because it’s unfair, because it hurts how much you’re going to hurt her, because even while the decision you made a year ago isn’t something you’d change, you hate it anyways.

It’s not okay because Kara proposes to you. She proposes to you right there, with you in the hospital bed. She proposes to you and makes a beautiful speech talking about forever, talking about happinesses. She paints a beautiful picture of the future with her words, because she’s Kara Danvers the Pulitzer Prize winner, and you want.

You want. Desperately.

You can’t have.

Kara says, with her beautiful tear streaked cheek, with her embarrassed eye shifting, “I can’t imagine my life without you,” and suddenly ‘want’ turns into hatred. Not hatred…

It turns into rage. Rage, and helplessness, so much helplessness, and pain. All consuming pain. Pain that floods your eyes with tears until your choking on sobs, until your body is shaking. Pain.

Pain that Kara doesn’t understand—can’t understand because you’ve never been able to tell her about the sacrifice you made a year ago.

She gets her own type of pain though, when you force out a trembling, and raspy; “No—no Kara. No.”

“What?” Kara asks, with a look that’s somehow disbelieving, and unsurprised. Like a part of her always expects to not be enough.

You shut your eyes against the look on her face—against the deathly silent—and you wish for different. You wish to be in another timeline where things don’t hurt as much, you wish for a timeline where the offer of forever with the women you love isn’t just waking up everyday for as long as you have left wondering if it’s the day your forever is cut short too soon.

It doesn’t work.

The pain, the helplessness, the rage, it leads to you doing something selfish, but this time there’s no question about whether or not it’s the ‘good selfish’. It’s just selfish. It’s selfish but you’re tired, so you tell Kara about that day a year ago where she shouldn’t have woken up from her coma.

You weren’t going to tell her because you know Kara, you know that she’ll try to change your fate if it’s the last thing she does, and you know that when it eventually fails it’ll crush her completely, because being brave enough to hope then having it squashed...it’s awful.

——-

When you’re done with your retelling you say, “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” with a look on your face that Kara never wanted to see, a look that can only be described as...heavy. Unbearably heavy.

Kara’s own face is full of darkness. There’s a hauntedness about her as she sits silently in her seat, staring at you, and it’s scary because Kara isn’t here anymore. Not mentally.

——-

It takes nearly half an hour for Kara to come back, and when she does she doesn’t react the way you expect her to. You expect sobs and pleas, and hope, and anger.

What you get instead is her arm pulling you into a hug, and her face pressed against your neck, and silent tears wetting the collar of your hospital gown.

What you get is fear. Her fear that sits over you like a blanket.

And an hour later, what you get is a whispered, “Why does it feel like nothing in life will ever go right?”

“I’m sorry, Kara,” you say, though you aren’t. “Saving you was practically saving the world...you’re a hero.” You know Kara doesn’t think she’s worth it as is. Appealing to her hero is the only way you can think to make her understand.

“I know you’re tired of hurting—”

“Please,” Kara cuts in. You feel her jaw clench. “I never asked you to defend yourself. What’s done is done, I just want to lay here.”

Lay here and pretend her world hasn’t been shattered. Lay here and not think about the future, or the past.

“I just…” you pause, pulling away to examine Kara’s face. “I feel like i’ve just really hurt you in a big way.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Kara says, and it sounds like a plea. “I don’t want to— Fuck.”

And now she’s sobbing, and you’re pulling her back into the hug while she shakes her head over and over again, while she squeezes her eyes shut.

These were the sobs you were expecting. These sobs that only someone who has lost as much as Kara can manage. They’re loud and full of heartbreak, she’s shouting broken questions that aren’t for you all the while, and this was what you were expecting but it’s...it’s unfair.

——-

Her emotions change quickly during her processing period but none of it is anger...it’s all just sort of defeat manifested in different ways.

Kara feels defeated. She feels helpless...and this isn’t what you wanted.

——-

It’s two weeks after the incident in the hospital that Kara decides it’s time to actually talk about ‘it’ with you. You know she’s been going to Alex and her friends for advice, you’re glad she’s finally going to you.

“I feel like I'm mourning you while you’re still alive, and I hate it,” Kara admits, eyes downcast. “I hate that I feel like I can’t talk to you, because I know you didn’t want to tell me for a year because you didn’t want to make me sad and-”

“And that’s exactly what you are,” you finish for her, laughing in a way that’s not at all humorous.

Kara closes her eyes, and whispers, brokenly, “I'm so sad,” in her agreement. “I’m sad, I'm lost, I'm angry, I'm desperate...I don’t know how to feel yet I feel so much—I just—Rao Y/N, I just want you to be okay,” Kara says, and you know. You know. Have known since last year, watching Alex brokenly try to tell you that Kara might not make it this time. You know how it hurts.

It hurts hearing that the person you love is going to die. It hurts in an all encompassing way that makes the future seem so terrifying.

But there’s nothing that can save you now.

“Lena is- she’s trying to find a way.”

That doesn’t really surprise you. You used to believe that there was nothing Lena couldn’t do if she really wanted it...but this...well it has to be impossible. How are you supposed to change the fate granted to you by a higher being…?

“Alex is trying too,” Kara says, “she and Brainy are contacting everyone they can think of to help you.”

The thought of your friends fighting so hard for you makes your eyes water and your chest hurt. The Superfriend always land on top when they work together, they always win...

“How?” You ask, your voice trembling on the word. “Kara, how?”

Kara glances up from where she was glaring holes into the edge of the couch to look at you. She hesitates for a moment before saying; “they believe that if they can somehow grant you immortality they can save you…”

No.

“Kara,” you whisper, feeling a large amount of guilt, “I don’t want to live forever.”

And Kara knows. She knows but— “but then you won’t even have a full life,Y/N.”

She sounds so terrified again, when she says that, that you can’t even say anything in response but shake your head.

“If you’re supposed to die,” Kara pauses, studying your face, “am i supposed to- do you just want me to just let you?”

She sounds repulsed by the idea...but…

“Yes, Kara. Yes. You’re supposed to let me.”

The, ‘I don’t believe you can change this and I don’t want this to hurt you more than it should’, goes unsaid by you.

———

Kara doesn’t listen. She tries, and she tries, and she tries, for months, and only months because you die 5 months after your initial accident.

The doctors have no clue why...you just pass peacefully in your sleep one day and leave Kara to wake up next to you trying to shake you awake and pleading for you to just “wake up, please, please.”

Kara is devastated.

More devastated than any of her friends expects, more devastated than Alex expects. They’re trying to help her but they lost you too and everything is just harder because of it.

Kara tries for revival. She asks John Constantine and everyone she can think of but everything doesn’t work and eventually Alex has to force her to stop.

After is what Kelly calls Kara’s second phase of grief. Her first stage, denial, went longer than Kelly expected so she expects the second phase to last a long time too.

It doesn’t. Kara’s anger seeps out of her quickly.

Stage three doesn’t last long either. The “what if’s” and “if only’s” just feel pointless to Kara.

She settles into stage four though. She settles into it and stays. Depression fills all the empty spaces in her apartment where you used to be, and it tries to fill the place in her heart that used to be for you. Depression stays.

Kara avoids going home because it isn’t home anymore. It’s the place you died. It’s the place where your things are scattered around everywhere like they belong, but they don’t belong anymore, because you aren’t there. You aren’t there, so the stupid mug on the nightstand shouldn’t be there anymore but it is.

You aren’t there so your clothes shouldn’t still be in her closet, and your toothbrush should be in the trash, and everything should just be gone. Everything should just be gone because you aren’t- you aren’t there.

You aren’t there and Kara hurts, because you’re supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be home with her. You're supposed to be her home.

You can’t be anymore.

Kara grows to hate the word “forever” because it’s just a whole bunch of lies, she grows to hate the word “sorry” because it’s all anyone ever says to her anymore, she grows to hate people saying “you’ll be okay” because she won’t be.

She grows to hate the word “hope.”

Hope people say, as if hope isn’t just denial trying to look pretty. Hope as if doing so isn’t just deluding yourself so things feel worth it.

Lena tells her one day that there needs to be hope, because there needs to be light. Without it you’re just lost in the darkness.

Lena tells her that but she looks uncertain, like she believes the ‘light’ is just a myth or a trick of the eye meant to just keep you moving.

So Kara hates hope, and she hates lies, but she loves love.

She loves the love, and support, and all of the things her friends give each other to make everything better for a while.

Kara hates hope but she still believes in trying anyways, so she begins to try after a while. She tries to get more sleep, she tries to spend more time with her friends, she tries to talk about feelings, and she tries to make fighting feel worth it.

She tries but she still misses. She misses desperately, but she eventually hits the final stage of acceptance.

Acceptance doesn’t feel like the final stage because Kara still hurts, and she still wants things she can never have, but she never even imagined she’d get here a year ago when you were lifeless in her bed—so this is fine.

This is fine. Kara finally places the mug on your nightstand in the sink and sobs while she washes it, but this is fine.

This is fine.

Kara wanted more than fine. She wanted you.

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cupofteaguk · 4 years ago

Text

i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader

[genre] :: percy jackson au + angst

[word count] :: 7.3k

[note] :: attempted a son of hades!jungkook storyline. vaguely inspired by nico di angelo’s character arc if you’ve read the books (because coughs well this use to be an unpublished nico di angelo fanfic don’t at me LMAO), but you don’t need to remember the character slash be an expert in the story to read this fic! Also this is a friends to lovers fic hidden behind my attempt to write a story of grief. pls enjoy!

When Jungkook is fifteen years old, he arrives at Camp Half Blood with pennies in his pockets, one Kim Taehyung on his back, and monsters on his tail. There are all kinds of creatures that have been following him for weeks—some with wings, some with clubs, but all with the intent of murder in their eyes as they chase Jungkook up the hill. Taehyung had warned him about this happening, that starting this journey would attract lots of unwanted attention from lots of dangerous half-breed monsters. Something to do with Jungkook’s scent, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

In the beginning, Jungkook hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t known what Taehyung meant by strange creatures and a camp just for him. Even right now, as he is running as quickly as his legs can take him with his lungs feeling like it’s about to burst—he doesn’t really understand.

What he does understand is that he has been alone his entire life. With a childhood filled with no father and a frightful mother, Jungkook has grown up spending time by himself in the company of his own thoughts and emotions. With such a strange (and lacking) family dynamic, it exposed him to lots of bullying and snide comments from peers, most commonly seen during school or walks home. The first half of Jungkook’s childhood is defined by this—by the teasing for being different, for failing classes, for being awkward and shy, for never knowing his place. The second half of Jungkook’s childhood is filled with sleeping on the streets, with stealing food at convenience stores, on how he’s been truly alone since he was thirteen.

That is, until Kim Taehyung corners him at the midnight strike of his fifteenth birthday—which leads the two of them to this current moment.

Jungkook doesn’t understand much right now. All he knows is that he needs to run.

As Jungkook approaches the top of the hill, he sees a group of people surrounding an archway. They’re all bundled up in gears of shields and swords, and each of them turn towards the boys as the monster thudding grows louder and Jungkook’s calls become more clear.

Half of the group near the archway break off, immediately making their way towards Jungkook and Taehyung. There are a few questions thrown here and there, before the main objective is just to make sure the boys get to safety. Taehyung’s weight gets distributed between Jungkook and another person, and together the bigger group makes their way across the hill. They cross a tall pine tree that Jungkook hardly notices, because he’s completely out of breath, wounded across his entire body, with legs that feel like jello.

Taehyung’s weight shifts entirely to the other person as Jungkook trips and falls to his knees. Quickly, Jungkook whirls around so his butt and his arms are on the ground. With his eyes directed towards the hill, his heart crawls up his throat as he sees the monsters making their way up towards him. His body moves before his mind does, his arms moving him closer towards the archway.

Someone settles themselves right behind him. “Woah, hey.” Your voice is soft, your hand between his shoulders is comforting. “You’re okay, you’re safe now.”

“B-But!” Jungkook stammers, pointing shakily towards the creatures now growing closer and closer to everyone. “Those monsters! They’re coming!”

As soon as he says that, the monsters stop in their path, right next to the pine tree from earlier. Their collection of beady eyes glare angrily down at Jungkook, their screams are hollow cries that press painfully against his ears. This conveyance of frustration continues on for a few seconds, before one by one the monsters turn around and make their way back down the mountain.

Jungkook’s breathing is frantic, along with his heart rate, as he watches the creatures disappear below the dip. “W-What the hell…?”

You angle your head toward in order for Jungkook to look at you—you wear an expression of softness, of understanding, and Jungkook momentarily sees stars.

That, however, could have also been from the excess oxygen in him, and the fact that one of those creatures had landed a swipe to his head.

You gesture to the pine tree. “You see that tree? That’s Thalia Grace’s tree—a long time ago, she and some of her friends were trying to get here, and Thalia sacrificed herself to ensure her friends could be safe. She was a daughter of Zeus, so he turned her into a tree that would protect the camp. Monsters just like those can’t get in anymore.”

Jungkook feels the adrenaline fading, along with his ability to follow conversations. Daughter of Zeus? Like, Zeus from those Greek mythologies? The camp? Had this been the place Taehyung told him about?

It’s all too much to keep up with. Jungkook faints before he can ask his question, in which the last thing he sees is your eyes, concerned and twinkling. He passes the thudding in his heart off as pure and utter exhaustion.

Jungkook wakes up on top of a white hospital bed a few hours later, head swimming and Taehyung situated at the foot. He offers a cup of something called ambrosia that immediately clears the headache. “Woah, what the fuck?” He asks, holding the cup away from him and staring at it with wide eyes. He looks over at Taehyung. “What is this? My headache went away as soon as I drank this. Also, it tastes like banana milk. Is this a dream?” Without waiting for an answer, Jungkook leans back and takes in his surroundings. He looks to be an infirmary, beds with white sheets along the walls and light shining in through the windows. There’s a few other people lingering about, hovering over occupied beds.

“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s soft voice pulls his attention back. “We’re in Camp Half Blood. You brought us here.” Taehyung’s smile is sad, but confident. “You brought me back, even though it was my mission to bring you here. Thanks.”

Jungkook stares. “So… you weren’t lying about the camp. T-This is all real?”

It is then that Taehyung explains everything to Jungkook. Explains that the Greek gods Jungkook learned about in class are real, and that sometimes they come down from Mount Olympus to mingle with mortals—which is where their demigod children come from. Demigods are part god, and therefore have enhanced physical ability as well as some level of control or skill over the realm of their godly parent. Taehyung goes over this information as slowly and as calmly as possible, but Jungkook still has trouble processing the information. In a way, it makes sense that Jungkook would be in this position. He’s always known he was different, always felt like he could never fully belong in the mortal world he spent so long occupying. He just could never label his feelings with a concrete answer.

Until now, that is.

Jungkook decides to ask Taehyung one more question. “Why couldn’t you explain any of this to me on the way over?”

Taehyung seems to be choosing his next words carefully. “As we kept going, you were attracting more monsters. That’s something that normally doesn’t happen, unless the demigod the creatures are tracking is one that’s insanely powerful. Like, a demigod that’s born from the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades. I read accounts of what happened to us happening to other kids that were born from any one of those three gods. I figured that the less you knew, the better. A demigod who doesn’t know they’re a demigod is a much less serious threat—your scent isn’t as strong as it could be if you know about who you are.”

Jungkook ponders this. “So my dad could be Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades?” He’s definitely heard of those gods. The ruler of all gods, and his two brothers.

Taehyung presses his lips together, leaning forward in his seat so his forearms rest on his knees. “Maybe,” He says. “It’s pretty rare, though, so I don’t want to give you an answer only for it to not be true. Only time will tell.” He must see the lost, the confused, the anxious look on Jungkook’s face, because Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Hey, JK, cheer up.” The usage of his nickname makes the corner of Jungkook’s lips turn up. “While we wait for your dad to claim you, you can stay with me in my father’s cabin. My dad is Hermes. He’s a patron to travelers, so all campers who come here are welcomed until they’re claimed by their godly parents.”

Jungkook can only manage a nod at this. He still has many questions, still does not fully understand. With what Taehyung is telling him, Jungkook is not even sure he will belong here, or if he will be ostracized once again for being different amongst the different.

But he trusts Taehyung—so he’ll follow Taehyung.

Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for a week before Taehyung is called for another assignment. It’s due to a prophecy given by the Oracle who lives on the campgrounds—the figure grants quests to campers to undergo a series of dangerous adventures in order to accomplish something for the long term benefit of demigods, the human race, the Greek gods themselves, anything of the sort.

In the case of Taehyung, he is chosen by fellow camper Kim Namjoon to join him in and travel west and retrieve stolen items from a museum collection. It seems like an easy quest. At least, that’s what Jungkook is told.

Kim Namjoon is a son of Athena, someone whom Jungkook met a day into his arrival at Camp Half Blood—friendly and smart and answers Jungkook’s questions about mythology with ease. It had been good when Jungkook first met the former, because he had many questions, some of which couldn’t be answered by Taehyung. Namjoon is someone that Jungkook immediately grows a fondness and admiration for—only leaving him that much more confident that the quest will go smoothly.

“You guys will be okay… right?” Jungkook asks Namjoon, as the latter is shouldering his backpack. He’s not the only person seeing Namjoon and Taehyung off on their quest, but Jungkook had been one of the first people to show up. After all, when your only friend is leaving on an adventure, it tends to bring in the worry and the anxiety. “And you’ll watch Taehyung, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Namjoon reassures, tight smile across his lips but he distracts Jungkook with a hand on his shoulder. “Taehyung and I have been doing quests together for a few years. We got each other’s back.”

Taehyung slides in next to Namjoon, glancing over at Jungkook with all the care in the world in his eyes. “Hey JK, just promise me you’ll do your best to be comfortable here, okay? Keep trying out those different skills we were working on, okay? Your dad will claim you, I’m sure of it.”

Jungkook looks down at his fingers, wringing the hands together. “I-I’ll try my best.”

Namjoon and Taehyung exchange glances, partaking in a silent language exchange, before Taehyung looks back at Jungkook. “I know someone who can help.”

Taehyung leaves Namjoon with his backpack before stepping away from the group, making his way down the hill back towards the camp grounds. Jungkook follows shortly behind. It’s still early in the morning, most campers are inside their cabins sleeping away the mist, but there’s a small group of campers near the archery grounds. There’s some laughter as a new person steps in to ready the bow and arrow. Jungkook watches as this new archer aims as the target, pulls back the bow, and—!

“Y/N!” Taehyung calls.

The person at the archery station flinches, sending the arrow a few centimeters away from the center of the target. You whirl around, and Jungkook’s stomach drops because it’s you—the person who helped him when he more or less crashed into Camp Half Blood.

You gape, still holding the bow in your arms as your eyes narrow into a glare as you continue to stare straight at Taehyung. “Kim Taehyung! Where are your manners!” You call out. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a quest now?”

Taehyung slings an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “I need to borrow you for a second, it’s important.”

You seem to be saying something to one of your friends, because you hand the bow to a friend before walking over to the two boys.

As soon as you reach your destination, you look at Jungkook and give him a bright-eyed smile of recognition—one that brings him back to the first time he met you, when he saw stars. “Hey!” You exclaim. “I remember you, you came in with Taehyung last week. You looked like you had been through a lot—are you feeling better now?”

“I-uh…” Jungkook tries to form words.

“He had some ambrosia, he’s fine,” Taehyung cuts in kindly, sending Jungkook a look he can’t decipher. Taehyung goes on a momentarily rant, explaining that Jungkook would just need someone to help him further adjust to life at camp, as well as help him figure out who his godly parent was.

Taehyung says a lot of words, but Jungkook isn’t entirely paying attention. His gaze is fixed on you, taking in your easy smile and bright eyes. He can feel his eyes widen and the flush crawl up his cheeks the longer he lets himself look at you—yet, he doesn’t understand what it means. He’s never seen someone like you before, in his years of school and in his years living on the streets.

“So, I just need you to help him out. Hopefully his dad will claim him before we get back.”

“That’s something to look forward to,” You reply, sounding genuinely excited for that. You turn your full attention to Jungkook this time and smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to finally meet you!”

He takes your hand. Fifteen-years-old, and he wears his emotions in his eyes. “I’m Jungkook.”

Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for three weeks when he starts getting nightmares.

Not only that, but it’s the same kind of nightmare—something horribly realistic and chaotic and messy but so painful that Jungkook finds himself waking up with tears dusting itself in his eyes.

It always starts off the same: Namjoon and Taehyung on their quest. They appear to be in a room of antiques, each boy looking cautiously at the collection around them, with their backs pressed against each other. There is a low hum in his dream, where the voices emit a low frequency and sound like static—like he’s hearing the conversations underwater. Suddenly, a burst comes from above, a shatter of something in the room, a clatter of hollow bangs and clashes, and a yell. His dream always turns blurry after the fight starts, but it always ends the same—Namjoon pulling Taehyung away from a fight. And the latter is badly wounded.

And Jungkook always wakes up at the sight of Taehyung. And it’s the same question that swirls around in his mind, over and over again. Did Taehyung die on the quest?

At first, it’s easy for Jungkook to write off the dream as a dream—nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps his subconscious playing tricks on him, playing around with his fears and turning it into videos to play in his brain. But with each passing night, a voice starts to ring in his mind.

My dear boy. It’s a deep voice, husky and low and full of pitiful sadness, like it can sense the pain that Jungkook is trying to internalize. Don’t you understand? Kim Namjoon let your best friend die.

There’s something about the voice that is familiar, like he’s heard it before.

The voice plays in Jungkook’s mind over and over again, like a record, and it shakes him to the core. The potential of what the voice is and what the voice could mean frightens him, and it shows.

It shows in when Jungkook just outright misses the target with his bow and arrow in the present day. The pair of you are out on the field today, and you’re furrowing your eyebrows together.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook stares at his arrow, somewhere flung off to the side, before his gaze shifts to you. You’re always so sturdy, so concerned, so worried for him. Besides Taehyung, who else cares so much for his safety and wellbeing—?

He stops, lowering the bow. He wears a serious expression. “Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers.

You furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Of course. Is something bothering you? I know your father hasn’t claimed you yet, but the gods can be really busy around this time…”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not that.” He steals himself for speaking the words into reality. “I had a dream that Taehyung died, even though Namjoon promised me nothing would happen to him.” He doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his accusation.

You don’t reply to him at first. You stare at him, eyes conflicted. Jungkook stares back, briefly wondering whether you’ve had the experience of knowing death. He doesn’t voice the question, choosing instead to maintain steady eye contact with your nervous expression.

“Perhaps it was just a dream, Jungkook,” You say carefully. “Namjoon always keeps his promises. He and Taehyung have been working together on quests for years. And Namjoon is the smartest person I’ve ever met. If they ran into a situation Namjoon thought they wouldn’t be able to handle, he wouldn’t even think to risk the lives of the people he’s with. He won’t let you down.” You’re smiling tightly, clearly trying to keep the tension light but Jungkook suddenly finds that his heart is not in the mood.

He wants to believe you. He wants to believe in Namjoon. But he knows what his dreams are. And that voice. These are things he cannot ignore no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, his dreams are real—Kim Namjoon does not keep his promise. Jungkook can see this across his face the moment Namjoon returns to camp, alone.

“Not only did they know we were coming,” Namjoon explains quietly to the camp counselors, late in the night, at a meeting spot reserved for higher ups. “They had taken over the museum a few weeks before we showed up. It was an ambush. I… I couldn’t save Taehyung.”

No.

“No!” Jungkook cries out, standing up and making his position known—loitering in the background of the meeting.

Namjoon meets his gaze from across the gap that separates them. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s head is spinning, his breath coming out in gasps, as he backs up slowly away from the growing crowd of camp counselors. “Y-You promised me!” He accuses loudly, pointing at Namjoon. “You promised nothing would happen to Taehyung! You lied to me!”

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Namjoon steps out from amongst the group of counselors, a hand out in front of him as if approaching a frightened animal. “We were overwhelmed. If I could take it back and save him, I would—!”

“Shut up!” Jungkook cries louder, running his hands through his hair. He should have known, should have known that weight in his gut was a warning and not a feeling. The tears in his eyes make it blurry to see anything to understand anything—because Taehyung is dead, along with his kindness and compassion and the safety he brought. “I hate you, I hate all of you!”

Suddenly, there’s a rumble in the ground, a shake in the Earth so intense that a hushed silence falls over the crowd. At once, the ground splits open and a roar of fire explodes up from the pit, threatening to drag in anyone who gets closer. There are screams from the campers, from the counselors, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s so angry, so hurt, so lost. He doesn’t hear any of it.

Until he hears your voice. “Jungkook!” You scream across the gap.

Jungkook stills upon hearing you, lowering his arms and opening his eyes. Blinking away tears, he feels his heart rate slow back down to a manageable pace. The split in the ground closes before he looks up. He sees the camp counselors up ahead, equal looks of fear and horror across their eyes.

He turns just enough to see you. You, with your wide eyes, looking confused and upset by what he has just done. And Jungkook feels nothing but disappointment. He has never done anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what it means.

So he runs away. He runs away from Namjoon and this god forsaken camp that he knows will remind him of Taehyung.

He runs away from the whispers from campers, a representation to serve that Jungkook will never truly belong here.

He runs away from you, the only other person he would think to trust from now on. He can’t handle any of this anymore.

Two weeks after Jungkook runs away from Camp Half Blood, and a shadow of a figure appears to him in the midst of the evening air. It’s a ghost with a dark twisted smile, who calls himself Min Yoongi—a king in a past life, who now resides in the Underworld as a judge for all souls.

He tells Jungkook that Jungkook is a son of Hades—which explains why he knew about Taehyung’s death, why he split the ground open all those weeks ago. There’s something borderline dangerous about Yoongi’s smile.

Every fiber and nerve in Jungkook’s body is begging him not to trust this ghost. But, of course, Jungkook doesn’t listen. He stopped listening to things a long time ago.

Besides, Yoongi soon makes offers that Jungkook cannot escape from. A way to bring Taehyung back, a way to strike revenge upon Kim Namjoon, a way—!

Jungkook blinks the thoughts away. He had dozed off again, something he’s been doing a lot lately.

“You should sleep,” Yoongi advises, his voice more of a whisper than anything else. There’s a touch of eerie to him, in his paper white skin and gray eyes.

Even though Jungkook doesn’t desire sleep, far from it, he settles with listening to the ghost anyways. So he curls up on a makeshift pillow crafted from his beaten down (stolen) leather jacket, and closes his eyes.

But instead of the previous nights, where he dreams about death and destruction, dreams up different ways Taehyung could have survived, dreams up Namjoon not caring about Taehyung’s death—he dreams of you.

Dreams about you are such a rarity now, but they always make him feel warm. Content. Almost satisfied.

In the dream, the pair of you are situated underneath a big tree at the edge of the forest. You’re in the middle of teaching him about Mythomagic—a card game he had immediately developed an interest for—and he realizes he’s dreaming about a memory this time. When he steals a look at you, he sees sunlight curling around your form, lighting up your hair and your eyes. He hears your laughter and sees the crinkle in your eyes. He can feel your happiness and the innocence in the air around you. He remembers the peacefulness, the calming nature of you.

He misses it—he misses you.

A cold chill running down his spine startles Jungkook awake as he springs into a sitting position. The fire before him has long since been put out, and Min Yoongi is floating in front of him. The latter wears a sharp look. “You’re dreaming about her again, aren’t you?”

Jungkook sighs. Good things in his life could only last for so long. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to gather his jacket into his arms. “I thought I asked you to stop peeking into my mind.”

“You were smiling,” Yoongi observes quietly.

“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook snaps.

“It must have been a good dream. I couldn’t see the contents of the dream, just the subject.”

“Stay out of my head!” Jungkook hisses, standing up and sliding his arms into the jacket.

“You care deeply about her.”

“What do I have to say to get you to stop talking about her?” Jungkook retorts hotly, feeling his temper rise. It had been a good dream. The best one he’s had all week.

Yoongi looks at him passively. “Just answer one of my questions,” He settles calmly.

Jungkook grunts. “Fine. What is it?”

“Why exactly do you care so much about her? You hardly know her.”

Jungkook slides his backpack over his shoulder. He ignores the touch of passive aggressiveness in Yoongi’s tone. “She was the only one at camp who went out of their way to make me feel like they actually gave a shit.”

“She cares more about Namjoon than you,” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “She and Namjoon have been friends for longer. She only talked to you because of Namjoon, after all. And don’t you hate him?”

“Shut up.”

“You worry she doesn’t care for you the way you do. Haven’t you wondered why she hasn’t tried looking for you?”

“Shut up.”

“She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook explodes, turning towards Yoongi with his arm out in a striking motion. His arm cuts clean through the ghost, and he watches as the pieces wisp away into the air. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Yoongi will be back soon, probably to reprimand him, but mostly to carry on as if this hadn’t happened—to continue asking questions and continue trying to piss Jungkook off. It doesn’t matter. Jungkook could never bring Yoongi any harm. The latter is a ghost, after all.

There’s still a lot he doesn’t understand.

Jungkook calls off his deal with Yoongi shortly after the You Incident—in which a series of dreams about you sent Yoongi on an accusatory streak that sent him back to the Underworld where he rightfully belongs. It’s good because he doesn’t want a ghost meddling in his personal business, and his personal feelings.

It’s bad, however, because Jungkook no longer has an evil ghost by his side that offers up revenge.

This leaves him to do the next best thing—try and summon Taehyung.

As a son of Hades, his powers do include communicating with ghosts like Yoongi and cracking holes into the ground, but it also involves the ability to summon deceased souls. All that is required is a pit, some food, and a cantation in Ancient Greek. It’s supposed to be simple, and in a way it is.

Except when the soul he’s trying to summon doesn’t want to be found, which is exactly how it has gone with Taehyung. He’s tried to get Taehyung’s attention for weeks now, to no luck. And he’s tried everything.

Jungkook scowls to himself as he takes in the local convenience store to buy the various items he’ll need to attempt another summoning. Animal blood is one of the best tools for this type of power, but animal blood doesn’t exactly like up on shelves in aisles of grocery stores—so Jungkook has settled with fast food meals, chips, or anything cheap he can get his hands on.

He glares at the lineup of sodas in front of his gaze, trying to focus but he finds his mind wandering against through his memories, picking the ones that are most guaranteed to make him feel like shit.

His mind settles on a line Yoongi said to him countless times regarding you: She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.

His hands shake in his pockets, determined not to believe it, but finding himself pool with doubt nonetheless.

“Jungkook.”

He jumps out of his skin at the familiar voice he’s spent the past many months thinking about, as the sensation rings through his body. He experiences brief flashes of emotions he hasn’t undergone in awhile: peace, warmth, hope. He turns on his heel and can’t help the way his eyes widen at the sight of you.

The months that have passed since his disappearance really does wonders to your face. You look older. You look wary, but well prepared. Most of all, your eyes are still that bright light he remembers more often than he cares to admit. But you also look sad, like the sight of Jungkook is worse than you expected.

“Jungkook…” You say again, quieter this time.

You saying his name again brings him back to reality, brings him back to where he is and why he’s here. He doesn’t need you. Like Yoongi said, you’re friends with Namjoon—and Namjoon is the reason why Taehyung is dead. His voice sounds hollow. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same question.”

His scowl deepens as he settles for a Mountain Dew on the rack. “That’s none of your business.” He catches the hurt that flickers in your eyes, but he turns towards the cashier before he can feel sorry for you.

You trail after him. “Please don’t shut me out,” You plead gently. You stay behind Jungkook as he pays for his food. “I came here looking for you.”

“Awfully convenient—but I don’t think you should be wasting your time,” Jungkook grumbles, bounding out of the shop and stopping along the sidewalk. “Why don’t you go back to Namjoon and keep being his best friend and just leave me alone?”

A sort of realization seems to settle in your eyes, as if you’ve just confirmed something. “I’m not leaving,” You say firmly after a moment. “I’m here by myself, Jungkook. No campers, no Namjoon, it’s just me. I know you’re mad at Namjoon, and you have every right to be upset. I know why you cracked a hole in the ground. I understand all that now. But I really think you should stop blaming Namjoon and hurting yourself. Namjoon didn’t mean to let Taehyung die—!”

Jungkook whirls around, his eyes a twin set of fire. “Don’t say his name,” He snaps roughly, but falls silent when you don’t even flinch.

How could he raise his voice at the only person who has gone out of their way to ensure his safety?

He turns away. He doesn’t apologize, and you don’t ask him to.

The pair of you don’t say anything for a long moment—Jungkook just makes his way down the sidewalk and you follow along.

He stops after a moment. He turns himself just enough so you can see his profile. “Fine,” He says, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest when you flash him an appreciative smile. “I’ll let you tag along. But only because I feel bad for snapping at you. I’ve just…” He sighs. “Been going through a lot.”

You step forward to stand by his side. “We can talk about anything you want to, Jungkook. I’m still your friend.”

He swallows thickly at your offer, hoping that you don’t notice. If you do, you remain silent. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

Two days after you join Jungkook’s travels, you seem to decide he is calm enough for a sensitive question. But you’re sneaky about it. You wait until the night, when both of you are curling around a fire—you in your sleeping bag, and Jungkook with his signature leather jacket makeshift pillow underneath his head. “Why are you so afraid to talk about Taehyung’s death?”

He flinches at the mention of Taehyung’s name, knowing that snapping and causing a scene would do nothing to stop you from asking the question over and over again. You had given him a few days, but something about your tone tonight tells him that you won’t take no for an answer.

Jungkook turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are flickering against the fire. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”

You shrug a shoulder. “Sure.”

He sighs, momentarily stumped. “I’m afraid that if I admit it, or let other people admit it in front of me, it’s true and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.”

“I don’t think Taehyung would want you to bring him back, Jungkook. He saved Namjoon that day; he sacrificed himself for a reason—!”

“Okay, my turn,” Jungkook interrupts, refusing to hear any of it. “Why are you here? Really?”

You are quiet for a second. “I was sent on a quest to come find you,” You reply after a moment. “The oracle told me about a prophecy where you were in danger. It said you had made a deal with Min Yoongi, said you were considering a soul for a soul trade to get Taehyung back. I was scared for you, Jungkook.” You sit up in your sleeping bag, leaning across the space between the two of you. “My turn. Why don’t you want to believe that Taehyung sacrificed himself to save Namjoon?”

“Because why would he do that?” Jungkook retorts back. “Why would he leave behind everything he cared about? Why would he leave me—?” The words choke in the back of his throat as his heart rams painfully against his chest, the underlying reason for his bitterness surfacing up again. He thought he had smashed his grief down far enough where it would never have to see sunlight again. “It’s nothing. I’m not playing this game anymore.”

You are quiet, watching as Jungkook curls into himself and turns his back to you. “When are you going to start letting me in?” You whisper. “I didn’t accept that quest for no reason, Jungkook, I came because I care about you. I want to help you.”

I’ve already let you in, far more than I wanted to, Jungkook thinks to himself instead, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

“I know that Taehyung would have never wanted to leave you. He cared about you a lot, and saw you as the little brother he never had. You guys deserved more time. You deserved more time to have the family you never got to have. You wanna know the last thing Taehyung said to me, after introducing us to each other all that time ago? He said that you guys only knew each other for a short time, but you were the strongest person Taehyung had known. I know how much Taehyung wanted to be there for you. But he also had other responsibilities.” Your fingers twitch as if you want to reach over and grab onto Jungkook. “Namjoon had been the leader of the quest, he was the main priority. Taehyung had to make the call. He would never have wanted you to take the guilt for a decision he made on his own.”

Jungkook hesitates, before rolling onto his back. “Why does Namjoon deserve my forgiveness?”

Finally, he spares a glance at you. You’re still looking at him, gaze sharp over the fire. It distracts Jungkook momentarily, as his mind thinks about how different you are from fire. Fire can be harsh, blunt, unforgiving, and relentless. Like him.

But you are like the sun—bright, warm, longing. You refuse to give up on him.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” You whisper. “Because everyone deserves a second chance.”

He stares at you. He doesn’t know what longing dances behind his eyes, but you seem to know, because you avert your gaze and grumble something about going to sleep.

He watches you turn to your side, and he wonders.

Jungkook has tried to summon Taehyung a grand total of ten times in the weeks prior to his run in with you. Each time is met with failure, because it seems like Taehyung does not want to be summoned which is disappointing and disheartening. To be honest, it makes Jungkook less and less enthusiastic to keep attempting something he cannot guarantee.

But as you stand next to him over an empty pit the pair of you have spent the last thirty minutes digging up, you take your hand in his. You smile at him, nodding. “It’ll work this time.”

So Jungkook pours in the Mountain Dew and dumps out the bag of chips he’s acquired into the hole. As he repeats the same cantation he’s said for the past ten times, the food starts bubbling as spirits from the Underworld fight to get a taste of the offering.

“Show me Taehyung!” Jungkook calls out, although he sounds worried and unsure.

At once, a spirit with a bright light, brighter than the others around it, shines through. It slides to the front to drink from the food at the bottom of the pit. The figure morphs and forms into Kim Taehyung.

Despite everything, despite the long hours that Jungkook has committed to summoning Taehyung, the sight of his friend does not fill him with joy. It fills his eyes with tears.

You notice, you always do. You squeeze his hand, but you also let go of him. “I’ll leave you two.”

So Taehyung talks. He talks and talks, about his quest, about his sacrifice, about Namjoon, about forgiveness.

This is something Jungkook has wanted for weeks. Yet, the longer Taehyung talks, the deeper he can feel the rifts of frustration.

Frustration at Namjoon, for whom everyone is telling Jungkook to forgive.

Frustration at Taehyung, for leaving him drowning in the sorrows of his own nightmares. For leaving him, even when he wasn’t ready to be left.

Frustration at you, for always caring about him, even when he’s sure he doesn’t even care about himself anymore.

When Jungkook releases Taehyung back to the Underworld, he feels like a hollow shell. He simply stands there, in front of the pit that brought forth his best friend. His mind is whirling with questions, with a curiosity.

You approach him slowly. “Jungkook…”

“You should go back,” He mutters.

You actually look shocked at this now. “What?”

He turns on his heel to address you properly. “Go back to camp.” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the words come out like a snap. He tries to reprimand the situation when your face falls just a fraction. “Go back to camp,” He tries again, a little softer this time. He keeps his gaze on you, even when you look up to stare at him. “It’ll be okay. I just need a little bit of time.”

At this, you nod slowly. You try for a smile. “Come back home, okay?”

He thinks he knows what you mean, but you disappear before he can ask you.

He returns to Camp Half Blood after a few days, with his leather jacket and black iron sword. The campers that guard the border part for him like the Red Sea—with the exception of one camper. He’s an older camper, who even in the dark shines brighter than the moon overhead. It’s a son of Apollo quality. It belongs to Jung Hoseok, a camper Jungkook met when he first arrived at camp. Hoseok is like sunshine—he’s always bright and cheerful with a positive disposition.

Today, despite still having that glint in his eyes, the boy wears a much more solemn expression. Almost as if he’s seen everything that Jungkook has gone through. Or, at the very least, has heard about it. “Hey Jungkook…” Hoseok greets. He doesn’t leave much room for conversation, because he gestures past the archway entrance, down the hill, towards the Big House—the main meeting place for campers, the central point of Camp Half Blood. “She’s waiting for you.”

He doesn’t need a list of camp names to know who Hoseok is talking about. Jungkook just mumbles his thanks, trying not to draw too much attention to the flush against his cheeks as he follows the pathway down into camp. It’s late, so the grounds are devoid of people, making it easier for Jungkook to step onto the porch of the Big House.

You’re on the porch, pacing back and forth with your thumb in between your teeth and you look nervous. You’re mumbling something underneath your breath.

But your ears are just as good as your eyes, because as soon as Jungkook steps on the wood, you’re whirling around to face him. “Jungkook!” You exclaim, approaching him with tentative steps. “Y-You came back.”

He levels you with a look, feeling a bashfulness overcome him. “You asked me to,” He says. There’s a slight pause. “I told you I needed time to think, and I have. You were right. Everyone deserves a second chance. It wasn’t fair of me to go after Namjoon the way I did.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Jungkook continues to stare at you, feeling a fondness overcoming him. “Thanks,” He finally settles with. “For, you know, finding me. For not giving up on me.” He looks down, scratching the back of his neck. “I should probably go find Namjoon and apologize.”

You wave away his concern. “Namjoon is asleep.” You angle your head towards the oceanside that surrounds the camp. “Want to take a walk with me?”

So you lead him through the camp, past the cabins of campers, past the archery set, past all that, to finally the beach located along the outskirts of the camp. It’s home to many boat races, surfing adventures, and firework displays. Currently, it’s devoid of activity. Right now there is merely a wooden pier that stretches out into the ocean, one that you and Jungkook walk down before you settle down at the edge.

You pat the spot next to you, and Jungkook sits down. Since you don’t say anything, he allows himself to stare out at the horizon, and the movement of the ocean. When you still don’t say anything, Jungkook dares himself to look at you. The moonlight is cascading across your features. You look like home. You feel like home.

You look at him suddenly, and knit your eyebrows. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Oh, uh, no…” He trails off, forcing himself to look away from you. Should he tell you? Not tell you, but… “Hey Y/N,” Jungkook speaks before he can think otherwise.

You look at him. “Yes?”

Jungkook straightens his back a little. “I-I think I should tell you… I didn’t come back just for Namjoon. Actually, I came back to tell you that I, uh, well, I missed you—I mean, hanging out with you—I wanted to be a better person because of you—I mean, not just because of you, but—!”

You start to smile at that, before you do something unexpected. You lean over and kiss his cheek.

He feels like his body has just been shocked, the sensation dancing up and down his spine. “W-What was that for?” He’s trying to sound confused, but his nerves immediately start getting the best of him.

Your smile is still present, but it’s a kind smile that touches your eyes and assures him of his choice to return. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. You still wear your emotions in your eyes. That’s one that hasn’t changed over the past year.”

He scoffs, but his face feels hot and he’s sure the effect he’s trying to go for is lost anyways.

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts angst #traci writes #collection:petals

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

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The Never-Ending Roadtrip (Autumn in New York, pt 2)

summary: (ch 1) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - ch 10) an end to our NYC journey

warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, lots of food, NYC, pizza rat

word count: 6k on the dot

a/n: i wrote most of this when i should have been sleeping,,, so yeah. i wanna go to nyc now. HERE IT IS THE FINALE BON APETIT Y’ALL

Y/n opened her eyes very slowly. In the in-between of sleep and wake, her brain had painted a picture of her old room in the bookstore. Yes, she could still see the curtains blowing in the breeze let in by the open window. The early morning glow on the floorboards. Douxie’s soft snoring filling her ears. Yes, yes, she was home and everything felt right. And then, slowly, it wasn’t. The warm wooden floorboards faded into a white carpet, and suddenly she didn’t know what she was looking at anymore. It was disorienting. She wasn’t in her own bed. Right. New York.

She turned over onto her back and was startled when she realized Douxie was actually there, next to her. His snoring wasn’t her dream, like it had been many times before when this exact thing had happened to her. Right again. Douxie loved her back now. That was an actual thing in real life and not just her dreams. Y/n supposed it would have been weirder if he wasn’t next to her. In the scheme of things. But that didn’t mean she would be used to it any time soon. But that was good. A pleasant surprise every morning. A little burst of serotonin, as a treat.

Y/n looked at the little hot pink alarm clock. 5:48am. Good! Right on time. Just enough minutes to get everyone out the door by 6:30 as was planned. Douxie… was not going to like this. She looked over the wizard’s sleeping form. She’d let him have his rest while she showered, leaving him blissfully unaware of what’s to come. Even then he might put up a fight. Y/n popped her head into the living room to check on Nari. Still sound asleep, snug as a bug on the fluffy couch with Archie. All good. She preceded with her morning routine.

Y/n pulled on her sneakers. She supposed she really must wake Doux now. They were running out of time. She stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of him. If an awake Douxie was cute, then a sleeping Douxie was absolutely adorable. All Y/n’s adoration belonged to this man who was sound asleep, and therefore could not fully appreciate her doting. She had to get some pictures. Just a few, then she’ll wake him up for sure this time.

Y/n was leaning over Doux, getting closer for a better angle, when she heard his voice, muffled by the pillow he had his gorgeous face half buried into. She strained to be able to make out what he was saying.

“y-y/n…” The dopiest grin spread across his still-sleeping features.

Y/n heart was filled with so much love it might burst. And her face was so hot it might catch on fire. He was dreaming. Of her. It looked like it was a good dream, too. Even when unconscious, he stilled cared for her. His snoozing brain could have conjured up anyone, anyone in the world he’d met in the last nine centuries, and it chose her. What a wonderful feeling it was to be chosen. He had married her, she knew he had chosen her, but it still felt special to be chosen again, and again, and again, as it would through the future to come. She didn’t even know why she had done it, asked him to marry her, that is. What had possessed her. Even as she did, she had half expected him to brush it off, or maybe offer a ‘someday’, but never in her wildest dreams would she have expected him to take it as seriously as he did. Never would she have expected him to be so eager. To declare, tomorrow. She ran her hand down his arm.

“Dewdrop, you need to wake up.” He half-opened his eyes, before groaning and shutting them again in defiance. Five more minutes. Douxie was not a morning person. Neither was Y/n, but she always seemed to be up before him still. He needed to get back to her anyways. She was waiting for him in-. Someone tapped his nose repeatedly. Fine. Awake it is then.

Douxie finally opened his eyes, taking in the form of the goddess leaning over him. Oh. Maybe this was better than the dream. Were her hands on him? Yes, she was stroking his face. This definitely was better. With the small price to pay of being awake. He’d pay it happily. Give her all he had. His time, what he was made of, was a sacrifice to the most beautiful goddess. Aphrodite be damned.

She pulled him out of bed by the arm and led him to the shower. “Come on, get ready, we have to go.” She started the process of braiding back her hair.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“Stop, I want to do your hair for you.”

Y/n laughed, dropping the strands in her grasp. “Okay.”

Douxie brushed through his own drying hair and tossed it back. He went to go find Y/n, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through a website on her phone, double checking a time. He sat next to her. Douxie ran his fingers through her locks.

“Hmm, I’m thinking… a pretty five strand.”

“and I’m thinking you need to put on some clothes first,” She pointed to the towel wrapped around his hips, “You can always braid my hair later, but you need to be dressed so we can walk out the door. We’re on a time crunch here, Dewdrop.”

“So be it.” Douxie smiled as he got up to go fulfil his wife’s request.

Now fully dressed and actually ready to go, Douxie busied himself with Y/n’s hair again. “How are we on time?”

“We should be good, as long as you don’t do anything too fancy.”

“I won’t-”

“You said five strands, like a challah bread or something. That’s fancy.”

Douxie laughed, “Okay, but it won’t take long, I promise.”

Douxie’s fingers made quick and clever work of the strands of hair. He made sure to keep it tight, but not too tight. He used to see lovers plait each other’s hair back in the day. He would look on longingly, wishing he had someone to do the same with. And now he did. Maybe he would consider growing his hair back out, if it gave Y/n the same opportunity. Not the manbun though. He was not considering bringing back the fucking manbun by any means. But having Y/n plait it every day, that would be pleasant. Not at all a cringey hairstyle. And Y/n had mentioned to him how pretty she thought past-his long hair was.

He pulled the strands further away from her neck as he was getting closer to the ends. He had to admit, he had planned on doing something a little fancier, but this would have to do. Y/n seemed anxious to make whatever deadline she had given herself. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do this,” he chuckled, and his breath on her ear made her shiver, “You cannot imagine how many times I’ve dreamed of running my fingers through your hair, My Love. It just. Looked so soft.” Douxie pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “And… Done!”

Douxie leaned back to admire his work. Simple, like she wanted, but very intricate the same. Y/n turned around to him as she headed for the bathroom mirror, taking note of how proud he looked. She turned her head this way and that in the mirror.

“Wow, this is so cute, Dewdrop. How’d you get so good.”

“Thank you, centuries of practice you see.”

Y/n giggled as she checked the clock. 6:34. “OH come on we’re gonna miss the subway.”

~~~

The subway was a magical place. Y/n sure thought so. All you had to do was step down a random staircase in the middle of the sidewalk, a nifty portal, and suddenly you were in an underground maze of commuters. Nari thought the turnstiles were odd. She just walked under it, and no one around the seemed to care, so Y/n just let her. Paying one less fare was no sweat off her back. The tiles that lined the wall were very dirty. There were mystery stains on the floor. Well, not that one the she just pulled Nari away from. That was definitely dried blood. The sound of a million grumpy people milling about and the coming and going of trains was all that Y/n could hear. She gripped Douxie’s hand tight as she double checked the map to see if they were about to board the right line. The 4 train would take them to the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station, right where they needed to go. This was the right way.

Right before the train arrived, Nari pointed to a spot across the hall. “Look, Archie.”

Crawling up the side of the platform was a rat. A big, fat rat. A big, fat rat with something in its mouth, carrying it up to the top. Once the rat did pull his prize up to the platform, it was plain to see. A slice of pepperoni pizza. Douxie had no idea where such a creature would acquire a perfectly whole slice of pizza this early in the morning, or, at all. Maybe it someone dropped it last night and abandoned it? The rat looked a bit scruffy. Did he have to fight off other rats for this prime piece of pie? This month had started of pretty normal for Doux but now he was standing in a subway station, holding the hand of his wife, pondering the secret life of a New York rat with a slice of pizza in its little mouth. Marvelous. Douxie felt Archie dig his claws into his shoulders, and making a chattering sound.

“Please Arch, we don’t have time for you to eat that rat.”

“But you just know it tastes like pizza, it’s got the grease all over its fur-”

“Archie, I fucking swear-”

Doux was cut off from his swearing by the train pulling in. The people who exited it rushed past, all having somewhere to be. None of them stopping to take in the wonder that was the pizza rat. Archie was sad to board the train and leave the rat. He’d get over it. The crowd of people all rushing in at once startled Nari. She clung to Y/n’s side. Since it was so early in the morning, a lot of commuters filled the train, and there wasn’t any seating left by the time they got there. Douxie gripped the ceiling bar, Y/n gripped his arm as if it was a ceiling bar, and Nari held on tight to Y/n. Douxie stared out the window in a trance as the world wooshed by him. This truly was a bizarre situation to be in. If you had told him last month that he would be here, he would have, well, not laughed, since his life was strange enough that he wouldn’t doubt it, but he would at least harbor some disbelief. There was their station.

Y/n checked the time as they stepped out onto the platform. 6:59. They needed to hurry. She tugged on Douxie’s arm. “C’mon!”

They made it to the Brooklyn Bridge just in time. Douxie was still confused about why Y/n was so adamant about being here so early in the morning. As they walked over it towards Manhattan, he understood. The early morning sun started rising just as they started the walk. The city skyline was glowing. The brilliant pinks and oranges painted the sky and everything around them. Each skyscraper glittered with the light reflecting off the windows. It was breathtaking.

The walk itself was quite relaxing. Douxie wouldn’t call the air fresh, smog and all that, but it was nice, cool and crisp. Pigeons flew by, adding their two cents in conversations only they could understand. The cars on the road next to them zoomed past. Every car had a person, and that person had somewhere to be at this early hour. Doux hoped they made it to their destinations safely. Every once and a while he would hear a honk, although he wasn’t sure from where it came. Douxie put his arm over Y/n’s shoulder to pull her closer to him. The journey from Brooklyn to Manhattan took about forty-five minutes, but it was peaceful thinking time, and Doux was grateful. Sure, plenty could go wrong, with them being on a bridge above the ocean that they were sharing with lots of fast cars, but with Y/n so close to him, he was able to put all that out of his mind.

As they reentered Manhattan, Y/n took no time at all in leading her family to a diner. She was hungry, okay? She needed breakfast. And coffee. Surely Archie would agree with her. It was food time.

Diner coffee was the best. Douxie didn’t care what fancy gourmet stuff the trendy coffee shops came out with, diner coffee would always be the best. It just had a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe it was the vibe. Whatever it was, it was just what he needed right now at 8:00am. Not only was he unsure of how he made it this long without any caffeine, Douxie was kind of surprised he was getting away with having Archie with him, in all these places, in broad daylight. Guess his shoulder cat wasn’t the strangest thing New Yorkers had seen. Said shoulder cat was scarfing down a plate of eggs and bacon.

Y/n told Doux the rest of what she planned on having them do today over breakfast. Not much else, but enough. They’d still be out of the house until evening. That was fine. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than wherever she was. As they left, they passed by a couple of kids inputting songs into the jukebox with devilish smirks. They were leaving just in time then.

Next up was a ferry ride to Staten Island. The ferry was constant, running every half hour, therefore they only had to wait a few minutes before it arrived once again for them to board. They found their seats on the upper deck, as per Y/n’s request. Apparently, this was because their reason for riding the ferry was not in fact to get to Staten Island like Douxie had thought. The purpose of the trip was to look out and see Bedloe’s Island and Lady Liberty who made her home there as the ferry cruised by it.

Y/n made Douxie hold Archie up so she could get a picture of him with the statue in the background. Archie was used to the strangeness of his familiar and his wife so the dragon cat didn’t question it. Archie_the_emo_kitty fans were going to love this. Y/n also got some of Nari and the gang. And a couples picture, but sadly, kissing Douxie’s cheek for a photo just didn’t get the same reaction as before. He was still a little pink though, as he was during all her showers of affection, so Y/n counted that as a victory.

Staten Island is hailed as the greenest borough, and thus the perfect place for Nari. After letting her run through a park for a while, they grabbed lunch at a Sri Lankan restaurant before taking the ferry back. Their clothes would smell like curry and spices for the rest of the day. Delicious, and worth it.

~~~

“Why are we going to a bar at 2pm?”

“Oh, you know, I figured day drinking was the next step for our vacation vibes,” Y/n answered Archie sarcastically, “Yeah, no. We’re just going up there to look out their window for the view.”

“You humans and your obsession with views.” Archie really didn’t see the big deal here. Whatever. He’d have to go whether he liked it or not.

Looking out over the city form the skyscraper bar’s wide window, Douxie felt uneasy. This bar’s claim to fame was this window that offered the view of the Empire State building. A building that used to be the tallest in the world. And then a younger and brighter architect built a higher one in Dubai. Makes sense. Nothing ever lasts long. He looked down at Y/n standing beside him. Maybe something would last long. He’d do everything in his power to make sure of it.

The last touristy thing Y/n wanted to see for the night was Broadway. It was getting chillier now that the sun was sinking, and Douxie magicked Y/n up a coat that was thicker than his old hoodie that she had been wearing nonstop since she stole it he gave it to her. However, she had been complaining about it losing its smell lately and telling him he needed to wear it again. Although she’d yet to let him have it back. She looked cute in the new coat. She looked cute in everything. Douxie was biased.

Broadway was covered in bright lights. The rows of theaters advertised their shows on big, dramatic signs. They weren’t going to go see any of the musicals, but it was fun to stroll down the street and see everything it had to offer. The world was bathed in an opulent gold, even the light in Y/n’s eyes as she led him down the way. Fitting, she was golden. Douxie felt like everything she touched turned to gold, like that old myth. He supposed that made him golden too.

One last stop before they went home for the night, a grocery market. They passed by so many Italian restaurants on their way from Broadway, Y/n was craving gnocchi. After hearing her talk about it during the walk, Douxie was too. Douxie held the handbasket while Y/n gathered the produce they needed for the soup. Plums were in season, and Y/n convinced Doux to let her make a few into some sweet rolls. Well, not convinced, he was all for it, she just had to ask. His cheeks were tinted just ever so slightly pink. He knew she’d known him for a really long time, so of course she knew all his favorite foods, but it still made him feel special that she’d take the time to memorize it. To memorize him. They got the cream, eggs, and butter they needed before starting the journey back to the apartment. Douxie carried all three of the bags. He wouldn’t let Y/n or Nari take one. He appreciated them offering, but, it’s not like they were heavy.

The ole’ valentines suite was just as lovey dovey as when they left it. They got to work on dinner as soon as they took off their coats. Nari and Archie took their places perched on the couch. The thing about being cute is you never have to work for your dinner, someone is always feeding you. It was alright, Douxie liked it this way better anyhow. This way he got to cook with Y/n as a special thing, just the two of them. They used to cook with each other a lot back when they were roommates. In fact, every weekend they put aside time to cook a meal together. It was tradition. Douxie had always wanted hug Y/n from behind while she stirred whatever was in the pan. He couldn’t do that then, but he definitely could now. Every time she had lifted a spoon to his lips, instructed him to taste, had been a knife jammed into his chest. She was always right there, so close he could touch, and he couldn’t do anything about it back then. He’d have to make up for lost time then.

Y/n put the potato pot on to boil and started on the sweet roll dough, asking Douxie if he’d chop up the vegetables for the soup. Aww, guess he had a job and couldn’t just spend this whole time hanging on her. Oh well, he’d chop. That was often his role in their cooking exploits. He’d admit, he had almost chopped his fingers a few times when he got too distracted sneaking glances at Y/n. He was a danger to himself really.

Y/n set the dough out to rise and started pitting and slicing up the plums. They wouldn’t need them for an hour or so, but might as well get them prepared and set aside. Douxie was still chopping the soup veggies, albeit slowly. Y/n thought he looked like he might be a little too far into his head.

“Hey Dewdrop,” Douxie looked at her, puzzled, “lets sing something to pass the time, yeah?”

Douxie was happy to sing with his beloved, and Y/n was happy to get Doux distracted from whatever was bothering him. And it was fun. Really fun. Y/n forgot how much she missed singing with people. Douxie’s voice meshed really well with hers. She really couldn’t believe that he liked her voice and that it was as pretty as he had been telling her lately, but she didn’t really care about that anymore; whether or not her voice was good or if it was embarrassing. She just liked singing, and sharing that with Doux felt special.

Potato mashing was a fun way to let off steam, Douxie had found. The more anger you let out on the potato, the better it was. Reminded him of back when Merlin would put him on kitchen duty for a day as punishment. He took out his frustrations on the potatoes then too. The old kitchen master encouraged it. After Douxie mashed those potatoes for her, Y/n added in the flower and salt, and began kneading the dough. Now Y/n didn’t know about mash potatoes for anger management but dough kneading was where it’s at. This was just gnocchi dough though, so it wasn’t worked too hard.

Now for the fun part, making the shapes. Now you could just go with the normal fork rolled gnocchi, but where’s the creativity in that. No, Douxie and Y/n liked to have little competitions of who could come up with the coolest looking gnocchi shape whenever they made this recipe. This time, Douxie won by making his dough ball into the form of a little rat, a tip of the hat to this glorious city they were in, and Y/n lost her shit. She wouldn’t let him make any more though, they didn’t need to be eating rat soup. That would be disrespectful to ratatouille.

Eventually, Y/n did start standing around stirring the pot of broth, and Douxie got his blessed hug from behind opportunity. Yep, this was just as good as he dreamed it would be. He got to watch what she was doing from over her shoulder, pepper her neck in kisses, and every now and then she’d turn to grab his face and kiss him too. At one point, tired of the short pecks, Y/n fully turned around, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a more serious kiss. Y/n was obviously the more forward one in this relationship, but it still took Douxie by surprise every time. A good surprise, the best kind even. Each and every kiss they shared became the new favorite moment of his life, this one was no exception. Their lips moved together slowly, taking the time to savor every second of each other’s presence. Maybe a little too much. They didn’t pull apart until they heard Archie make a gagging noise. Y/n laughed as she turned back to the soup. Douxie shot Archie an angry glare before going back to his place over her shoulder. Yes, this was the most perfect way to spend an evening, rude dragon-cats aside. The soup smelled heavenly. But he didn’t want it to be ready quite so soon. Soup could wait, cuddles were priority right now.

But of course, the soup did finish cooking, and the lovebirds had to separate. Y/n though it was adorable how disgruntled Douxie was at this development. Actually eating the soup cheered him right back up however. It was delicious, It was the best soup they’d ever made. Must be the love. And the cuddles. Yeah, that’s what made it so tasty. This was honeymoon soup.

After dinner, Y/n got to work on the sweet rolls. After kneading the dough one last time and rolling it out, she let Nari help her place the filling and roll em up. The little goddess thought rolling up the dough was entertaining, and she liked how the end result looked like little roses. After putting the bake in the oven, Y/n gravitated over to that floor to ceiling window.

The city never slept, and it was just as abuzz as it was during the day, if not busier. Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, gazing out at it all. Headlights of cars flew by. Pedestrians strolled with their shopping bags, bundled up in coats and scarves. Every moment passed was the present, and then suddenly it was the past. Y/n couldn’t tell the future. She couldn’t guess what person or car she would see next, and who knows what or who will walk by in this city, New York. There was a way to expect it and yet no way to know for sure.

The oven timer dinged, and Y/n got up to take the rolls out. The sugary smell filled the apartment. Y/n tried to swat Nari’s hand away from the just-out-of-the-oven pastries, but turns out the heat didn’t affect the veggie lady’s hands at all. Nari had heat resistant paws. Y/n supposed that probably came in handy dealing with that other Order member that was all fiery. Douxie was the real one she had to watch. It seemed he never got past the moppet stage of not thinking about the consequences of putting a molten hot sweet roll in his mouth. And he was good at sneaking them too, from all his years of doing so in the castle. Y/n rolled her eyes at his antics, but secretly thought it was cute. After the rolls had properly cooled, she took her own to-go as she found herself pulled back to that window once again.

Y/n ate her plum roll, watching it all, thinking about the future that was simultaneously always present and never coming. Y/n felt Douxie sit beside her, silently. He had yet to say a word to her after a few seconds, so she scooted a little closer to him so she could lay her head on his shoulder. Soon she felt his arm wrap around her, pulling her in tighter against him. Y/n waited another beat before speaking up, “Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I was wondering.” She said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“What happens after this?”

Douxie was taken off guard. He cleared his throat, “uhhh, I-”

“Like assuming we ever do defeat the order, which we will,” Douxie smiled at her confidence, “what’s next for us, Dewdrop?”

Doux had to take a moment to think. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about this himself, and if anything being able to give Y/n a good future consumed a lot of his thoughts, but he’d never been able to find a plan he felt like he could stick with. “I- I don’t know, Love. I’m sure we could return to Arcadia, if that would be something you would want. I’d never really settled down anywhere before that little town. And, I think, I’d want to go back.” Douxie’s eyes stared unblinking into the city lights, “It’s home now. In a perfect ending where everything resets when the war’s over, that is.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “We’ll have to wait and see. Things never really stay the same for long. Even if we can’t go back, we’ll find home somewhere. We’ll go home.”

Y/n pulled her legs out from under her, bringing them in close to her chest. “It is something I would want. Take me home, Hisirdoux. Is that a promise?”

Douxie took her hand and kissed her knuckles, “That’s a promise.”

The silence enveloped them once again. Stars knew how long they sat there, looking out in silence. Y/n practically fell asleep leaning on Doux. She yawned really big and Douxie smiled fondly as he got up, taking care to not disturb her too much as he scooped her up bridal style. “Come on Love, let’s go to bed.”

After gently placing Y/n in bed and snuggling in with her, Douxie let himself savor this now mundane moment between them. It was strange to think that just last month this simple thing would have short circuited him. He heard her giggle sleepily and raised an eyebrow.

“If we ever rebuild the bookshop, I want,,” She trailed off. Now Douxie was curious.

“Yes?” He further prompted.

“I want to make half of it a tea room, can we do that?”

“I- yeah I can certainly see about that.”

Y/n giggled again, “With fancy teacups?” she said groggily.

Douxie smiled, humoring her, “With fancy teacups.”

“Aannddd. And. Maybe,,” she whispered, “a baby.”

Douxie took in a sharp breath. Wow. He tried his best to keep his voice from cracking, “and a baby.” He wasn’t sure if Y/n even heard him as she was now snoring in his arms. A baby. He’d give her every baby she wanted. Raise a whole brood of moppets. Or just the one. Or none if she changed her mind. He’d be happy either way. But there was something about the thought of her wanting to have a baby with him that just made his whole face flush. He probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight now. Douxie was anything but new to insomnia, but he’d never had such a sweet thing to be the cause of it before. His heart was going to melt. He pressed a kiss to Y/n’s hair. Yeah, he would be happy to melt here with her.

~~~

No early start to this day. Y/n didn’t have many things planned, so sleeping in was the main event of the morning. Douxie was completely okay with that, encouraged it even. He rarely got a day off to sleep in. And with Y/n in his arms? It was that much sweeter. But eventually they did leave the house, grabbing some leftover plum rolls on their way out for breakfast. They couldn’t just keep Nari indoors, it didn’t take long for her to get antsy. There was still plenty of things to do and see in New York so off they went.

First stop of the day, the flat iron building. They stood on the sidewalk across the street from it, the crowd instinctually parting to walk around them without caring.

“look at it. It’s triangular.”

“It, it sure is.” Douxie kinda looked to the side, unsure of how he was supposed to be reacting.

“Yeah I didn’t know what I was expecting.” Back in the subway and on to the market then.

Specifically Chelsea Market. Douxie got a weird feeling as he walked through the doors. Strange, he felt like they were being watched. Which of course they were, they were in one of the most populous cities in America after all. But like, a different, more sinister feeling of being watched. He brushed it off.

They wandered through the shops for quite a while. Y/n and Archie had decided that they needed to see everything that the market had to offer before they picked something. Douxie was just hungry. These damn foodies he lived with were always making him wait for lunch. Just pick something. Food was food. Most of the time he could say no to Archie but there was no way he could say no to his wife, ever. He had to work on that.

One of the signs caught Y/n’s eye immediately, Fat Witch Bakery. Well, they couldn’t not check that out. Once inside, they discovered the little shop exclusively sold brownies. Good brownies at that. Douxie wasn’t found of brownies, or anything chocolate flavored, but he had a couple bites of Y/n’s. It was okay, one of the better chocolate things he’d had. Y/n scarfed the rest down.

“Mmmm, good thing we don’t live here, or I’d be a fat witch myself in no time.”

A lot of the market was decorated for Christmas already, despite it being October. The lights were pretty. Y/n was disgruntled they skipped Halloween though. Douxie had to laugh at her little pout when she complained about it. She really was the cutest thing on the planet. He couldn’t help teasing her about it, which she responded with mock anger. He gave her a quick peck to help placate her. It worked.

They came across a seafood place and suddenly Archie was done looking around. It was nice to have some fresh fish, as they were on the coast. Archie missed that about California. All this traveling inland was depriving him of his proper seafood diet. Dragons like him could only eat so many hamburgers before they got sick of it. Fresh caught fish was the best food that existed.

After finally having lunch, it was time to head over to the next sight-see. Grand Central Station. They had nowhere to be, no reason to use the station for its intended purpose. Douxie guessed this was just another thing Y/n wanted to stand in and look at. He didn’t quite get it himself, but he thought it was adorable that Y/n had so many things she wanted to see, so much of the world she wanted to touch. He wanted to take her everywhere. He was old, and had seen so many things that not much amazed him anymore, but not her, the world was still magic in her eyes. He loved seeing that twinkle in her eyes, made him feel like he was shiny and new too.

Douxie posed with Archie in front of a clock for Y/n in the station. Doux stuck out his tongue, giving her the sign of the horns while Archie stood on his shoulder, trying to look tough. She snickered as she took the shot of her boys. She took photos everywhere they went. Not of the tourist destinations, per se, but of Douxie, Archie, Nari, interacting with them. Her family, having fun. Good memories to be stored. She was slowly rebuilding her association with the word family into something positive. Every passing day, her past felt like more of a bad dream. The future may be uncertain, but at least there would be love in it.

Nari wanted to go visit Central Park again. There was a petunia in one of the gardens was a particularly good conversationalist, and Nari wanted to ask them how their day had been. The park was a great way to spend the afternoon, so of course they’d indulge the veggie lady without qualm. Y/n was looking forward to getting to explore more of the park they didn’t see last time.

As they were walking around a corner, on their way to said park. Douxie got that strange feeling once again. They were being watched. He tried not to let it show. He didn’t need Y/n to worry, and he was confident he could take care of whatever it was that was making him feel this way. He was Hisirdoux Casperan, successor of Merlin Ambrosius and currently the most powerful wizard alive. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his family. If whatever was stalking them dared to show its face, he’d be ready.

There was a scruffy man on the street corner, shouting about the end of the world.

“The world’s gonna end, we’re all gonna die!”

This man wasn’t completely crazy, but it’s not like he actually knew what was going on in the world of magic. Douxie tossed him a coin.

“Not on my watch.”

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux x reader #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #nert #my writing

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jadoue1999 · 4 years ago

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The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 2

Summary: Erik finds out he has a son. But life doesn't like seeing him happy, so it made sure he was already missing when he learned about his existence.

Previous parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8,

Chapter 2: Erik and his rotten luck with family

It had been a week since the 70s episode had aired and no new episodes had shown up since. That left plenty of time for thinking and pondering on what was this WandaVision show. After many theories, they had conceded to Hank’s idea. It definitely seemed like a glimpse into a parallel universe. The mystery of Peter’s implication still lingered in the air. Charles wasn’t sure if he really wanted the answer. This all-powerful woman with the same surname as the speedster could have decided to do anything with him. He had yet to show up anywhere; they had combed the background for signs of him, but they had found nothing. The team went as far as to call it a misleading clue, but he didn’t let himself believe that. It was too strange to simply be a coincidence. The telepath was in his office one night when Raven entered.

“Is this a good time?” Wondered the shapeshifter. The professor nodded his head yes and she closed the door behind her before taking a seat. While he didn’t look into her head, he could sense her determination and hesitation about what she was about to tell him. Finally, she took a breath, “we need to tell Erik. About Peter.”

Erik. How could he have forgotten?

He was the boy’s father after all, even if he didn’t know it yet. Raven had told him as she filled him in with what had happened when they were fighting Apocalypse. She had mentioned Peter’s confession and how close he came to tell his father the truth. He had kept silent since, deciding that no one was in the right to inform the metal bender other than his own son. But now Peter was missing, they had to get him back. Erik needed to know.

Charles agreed with her and they were off to Erik’s room. The man was reading a book in front of the fireplace, seemingly enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. He turned to them as they opened the door.

“Charles. Raven.” He greeted them as he closed his reading. “What’s going on?”

The professor wheeled himself forward to his friend, he knew he had to break it to him gently. “It’s Peter,” he started. The man looked at him, his thoughts echoing his confusion as to why he was bringing up the speedster. “He’s missing. Has been for about two weeks, but I wanted to make sure before telling you.”

“Okay,” Erik replied after a few seconds of silence, “have you found anything?”

He could feel Raven’s frustration growing as the metal bender barely showed any concern. Charles didn’t blame him; the man had only seen Peter for an hour at most in the last ten years. He felt the same level of concern to the boy as he would with any other students at the school.

“We have found something, we’re not sure what it is, but it’s definitely linked to his disappearance.” He paused, trying to see if Erik was starting to understand. He continued when he found no reason to believe so. “Do you remember when he broke you out of prison?” The man nodded. “And when he came back to help fight Apocalypse and was injured in the process?” Another nod, more hesitant this time. Erik clearly didn’t get where he was going with this. “What I’m trying to say is that he’s a very special person, I hadn’t seen his type of power before meeting him and Hank found him fascinating as well. Can you believe he agreed to break you out just for the challenge? Quite extraordinary if I say so myself. But my point is, Peter’s-“

“He’s your son, you moron!” Snapped Raven, earning herself an offended glance from Charles. “What? You clearly weren’t going to tell him with all that rambling.”

The pair looked at Erik, awaiting a reaction. Had they not been aware of the situation, they easily could have believed that he was doing an aneurism. The man didn’t speak, but the metal in the room started shaking. Raven called out to Erik to try to calm him down, but her voice fell on deaf ears. Only when Charles shouted at him to stop that the man gradually calmed down.

“I... I have a son?” He seemed beyond shocked as he finally acknowledged the truth. Charles nodded yes and met Erik’s gaze as the man spoke once again. “What did you gather about his disappearance?”

“Don’t you need a moment to collect yourself and take in the situation?” Wondered the telepath. The man’s thoughts were all over the place, filled with shock and worry. It was obvious he needed some time alone. “Erik, please take some time, join us when you’ll be ready.”

The man didn’t protest as Charles and Raven exited the room. They closed the door and met up with the team, informing them about the situation.

...

Erik, in all his life, had never considered himself lucky. He had lost his family in Auschwitz and was then used as a lab rat by Shaw. Once the evil man had been taken care of, many years later, he had then accidentally paralyzed Charles, one of his few friends. Then he was wrongly accused of killing the president and imprisoned for nearly a decade until he was freed. By his son. But of course, he didn’t know, because life was just like that with him, and he had gone on a quest to show the world the true power of mutant kind. That, of course, ended horribly; so, he went into hiding. He had built a family, a happy one even. He truly had hope for a better future, but life loved to prove him wrong. Madga and Nina had died, and he had been chosen to be a horseman for a god. He had, in his grief, accepted and it led to Peter having his leg broken. He felt sick to his stomach as he recalled the panicked look on the young man’s face, his eyes pleading him to do something. He didn’t know, why hadn’t he known? The boy had almost died, and he did absolutely nothing.

How could he even consider himself his father when he had already failed him so much?

Still, he might not even get a real chance to properly know him now that his son had gone missing. Erik definitely wasn’t a lucky person.

He looked at the fireplace that had previously given him comfort and suddenly felt like the heat was choking him. He paced quickly through the mansion; the corridors were empty due to the late hour. After getting outside, he decided to walk around the lake. The little waves created by the soft breeze always helped grounding him. His Nina always loved the water. They had installed a bird bath because she had requested that the surrounding animals should always have something to drink when they came to visit her. He wore a small smile on his lips as he sat on the grass in front of the lake and sighed.

“Hello, my darling,” he told the water. “It’s already been a year since you and your mother left. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.” A curious bird landed next to him, looking at the man with puzzlement. Erik smiled, perhaps Nina lived on in all the creatures she loved so much. He held out a hand to the small animal, not really expecting anything. Surprisingly, it flew towards him and landed on his finger. Erik felt his heart grow warm as the bird let him pet his back. The soft feathers felt so similar to his daughter’s hair. “You might not believe it, but I just discovered that you have a half brother. He’s older than you, but I’m sure you would have gotten along well.” The bird chirped at his words. He stopped stroking it, “but I’m afraid he’s gone for now. What do you think we should do?” The bird looked at him with its small eyes and stretched its wings, taking off in the sky to regions unknown. Erik dared a hopeful smile as he watched it fly away. He looked at the sky, contemplating the stars before getting up. “Don’t worry Peter,” he told the wind, “we’ll find you.”

...

The moment he had gone back in the mansion, he was intercepted by Charles who called him to his office. The wheelchair bound man had a few files open on his desk. He motioned Erik forward as he spotted his friend.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, I take it you want to know what we’ve gathered so far?”

Erik nodded, of course he did. Charles took the files with him and led them out. They entered the room containing Cerebro, he was about to ask him their reason for being there, but he was interrupted by his friend.

“Before we start, I want you to keep an open mind. We don’t know what exactly is going on.”

Erik frowned but agreed to the conditions, nonetheless. The bald man pressed a few commands on the board and the screens lit up.

Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t this. He had expected government videos showing his son dragged out of a car, him being taken or even tortured. He certainly hadn’t expected to see a sitcom that somehow changed decades every episode. It seemed completely irrelevant, but the few cuts and creepy details kept him from dismissing the whole thing as a joke. The third episode was particularly strange. Fear creeped into his veins as the woman menacingly approached her friend. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the cut that showed nothing or the possibilities of what could’ve have happened to the poor woman.

When everything was done, he turned to the telepath. “What does this mean Charles?”

The man sighed, putting a finger to his head for a second before looking at him again. “I’ve called the others; they’ll be here soon.” He turned to the screen that showed the rolling credits. “From what we’ve gathered, this is a parallel universe. The woman, Wanda, seems to either control this world or is trapped there as well.”

“But what does this have to do with my son? As far as I’m aware, he’s never met this woman.” Their discussion was interrupted by Jean, Scott, Kurt, Ororo, Hank and Raven coming in. They had probably been woken up by the telepath’s call, judging by their yawns and sleepy eyes. After a few seconds of questioning from the tired young adults, Charles motioned them forward and opened one of the files he had with him.

“This is Peter’s file, I hadn’t really thought about reading it, since he’s past high school age, but Wanda’s comment made me curious.” He pointed to his personal information, it contained his name, address, and schools he had previously attended. Nothing seemed amiss. “I did some digging and it turns out that ‘Peter’ isn’t his real name. It was changed when he was very young.” He flipped the page, showing a government document authorizing the name change. The team looked at themselves in shock as they read ‘Pietro Maximoff’.

“So, what does it mean?” Chimed in Hank. “Sure, he has the same name as the woman’s dead brother, but there’s no way they’ve ever met.”

Charles scoffed in amusement, “yes, you’re right. But I searched through various archives to find more about him, and I came across this.” He pulled out an old newspaper clipping. It read: mysterious death of a teen leaves the police baffled.

The article had one picture, it showed a teenage girl smiling, like any other child her age. Erik looked at Charles, demanding confirmation about his suspicions. The telepath nodded, “this is a picture of Wendy Maximoff, Peter’s twin.”

The group was silent for awhile when Jean suddenly gasped. “Oh my god,” she covered her mouth in horror. “I once asked Peter why he didn’t like celebrating birthdays and he told me how he used to have two cakes but only had one now.” She looked towards Scott and Kurt. “I- I assumed he was being greedy, but the loss of his twin could explain it!”

Erik didn’t listen to the group’s reaction; he was too busy processing the information he had just learned. How could he miss so much of his son’s life? He should have been there to help him and make sure that he would be alright. Instead, he was too focused on getting revenge and he had missed nearly thirty years of Peter’s life. And with his disappearance, it unfortunately was very possible that he’d miss more. Everyone’s rambling was interrupted by Cerebro lighting up again. Erik watched nervously as the front of a house appeared. The woman and her husband were trying to get their babies to sleep, something they were apparently not keen on. They continued trying, Wanda even tried to use her magic on them, but, surprisingly, it didn’t work. Their neighbor came in, saying how she had heard them and could help. Then it became strange as Vision suddenly suggested that she shouldn’t help. Agnes looked at Wanda for instructions, asking if she wanted to restart the scene. Erik didn’t have to look around to know that everyone here was confused. Wanda brushed it off, to the confusion of her husband. All of a sudden, the crying stopped; the twins were asleep. Except they weren’t in their cribs. A slight panic settled in Erik’s stomach; the loss of a child seemed too dark for a show like this... right? Strangely enough, the twins weren’t missing, they had aged up to five. The screen cut to the theme song.

“Are the children mutants?” Asked Raven, uncertain about the change of event.

Charles has a pensive look to his face, “I’m afraid I cannot say, for now.”

The episode continued, with the twins adopting a dog. Curiously, Wanda seemed tired of hiding her powers, going as far as using it in front of their neighbor. The most peculiar thing happened when the two parents settled that the twins were too young to keep their dog. They suddenly aged up again, now ten years old. Erik had to give it to Charles, this show definitely wasn’t just a coincidence. Were they looking at a new concept for a mutant prison? It certainly seemed like it.

The scene changed to show the husband’s workplace, they were installing computers and people around him were trying to figure out how to make it work. After some corny jokes, an email showed up and the whole room read it together. The X-Men watched Vision wake up his co-worker who seemed to panic about contacting his father.

“That’s mind control,” gasped Jean, “I know that panic, it’s horrible.”

The man screamed about a woman in his head, probably Wanda, and became more and more agitated. Vision zapped him again and, like a switch, he was back to Norm, the friendly co-worker. The group watched in stunned silence as it cut to Wanda and her children. Billy was training the dog and seemed pretty good at it. The twins excitedly got up, wanting to show their father but Wanda told them he was at work. The conversation then turned into a classic “family is forever” speech; telling them how they’ll always have each other, no matter what.

“Do you have a brother, mom?” Asked of the boys.

She looked off in the distance, obviously wondering how to explain her brother’s situation. “I do,” she said, “he’s far away from here and that makes me... sad sometimes.”

Erik didn’t have time to dwell on the possible meanings of her words as the dog suddenly ran out of the door. The twins and Wanda ran out, chasing it. They lost sight of it. Suddenly, the redhead looked up at the sky in anger and told the boys to continue look for Sparky without her. The scene continued with the boys walking alone.

“What do you think she meant by far away?” Asked the boy in green, Tommy, if he remembered well.

His brother shook his head, “I don’t know, but how cool would it be to meet our uncle?”

The boys giggled and continued calling for their dog. Seeing how the episode was significantly darker than the other ones, Erik didn’t have much hope for the poor animal. Turns out he was right; it had eaten a poisonous plant and the boys were heartbroken. After some strange comments about bringing back the dead, they were back at the house. There was tension between Wanda and Vision. He told her about what happened at his work, accusing her of being the cause.

“You can’t control me the way you do them.”

The woman tilted her head to the side, clearly challenged by her husband’s words. “Can’t I?”

There were scoffs of surprise in the room as the credits suddenly rolled. The android didn’t let that stop him as he pointed out the problems with the world, they lived in. He went on to say that he had no memories of his life before the show. That was puzzling, did this place erase people’s memories to guarantee their good behavior? Vision then pointed out the lack of children, something Erik hadn’t noticed but was unmistakable once you realized it. Wanda sat on the couch, trying to explain why she wasn’t controlling anyone. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“I swear, if Agnes comes in at that moment, I’m going to lose it,” whined Scott.

“I don’t know,” replied Ororo, “usually she just lets herself in.”

The doorbell rang a second time and Vision watched Wanda with accusations in his eyes as she walked to the door. She opened it and was immediately shocked at whoever was at the door. The android asked his wife for the identity of the guest with suspicion. The camera slowly panned over to the person, only showing to back of their head.

Showing his silver hair

The suspense didn’t last much longer, the camera showing that it was indeed the missing speedster. Quiet gasps were heard as Peter walked towards the woman.

“Long-lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin' sister to death or what?” His voice echoed on the walls of the room.

“Pietro?” He nodded his head and the two shared a hug. It lasted a few seconds and Peter pointed to Vision as he walked in.

“Who’s the popsicle?”

The audience laughed at his joke and the screen faded to black, leaving the team stunned as the credits rolled.

“We have to go get him,” said Raven. “I don’t think he’s safe with her.”

Hank nodded, “I think I can find a way,” he pointed to Jean, “I think you could open a gateway to wherever Peter is. I’ve adjusted the machine to focus on the frequency. If you really concentrate, I’m sure it’ll work.”

“Alright, Raven, Erik and I will go,” decided Charles.

Kurt stepped in, “you might need a quick way out, I can help.” He shook his head as Raven and Charles were about to protest. “I’m the one that noticed he was gone; I want to be there when we bring him back.”

The professor agreed and told them to go pack whatever they’d need and to be back as soon as possible.

***

Jean put on the helmet and closed her eyes in concentration. She held out a hand to better focus her power. Nothing much happened, but she frowned her brows with renewed efforts. Flickers of orange light made itself known, slowly gathering together to form a small circle. She grunted in efforts and the portal grew bigger. She opened her eyes which were now glowing a fiery orange and she let out a screech. The gateway was now big enough for them to go through. They quickly said their goodbyes, Charles leaving Hank in charge for the time he was gone. The four shared a look and took a determined step forward. Passing through another dimension definitely felt strange. Nothing seemed solid as they were suddenly free falling.

They landed on the grass. Erik quickly helped Charles back into his wheelchair and took a look around. There was a military base with soldiers that stared at them with dumbfounded faces. He could hear an alarm, probably trigged when they came in. An older man that seemed to be an authority figure started shouting at them, but Erik didn’t hear him. All he could see was the sign that indicated that Westview was in front of them; and the force field surrounding it.

***

Notes: I have to say, Erik talking to Nina is probably my favourite part of this chapter. I've also made up a scene of the boys talking together based on the image of them walking alone that was in the SWORD base in WandaVision. Next up: The x-men meet Hayward (Erik doesn't like him) and learn about who Wanda Maximoff is.

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princessamericachavez · 4 years ago

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All this “Fjorester came out of nowhere” nonsense has gotten me thinking about how, while it OBVIOUSLY didn’t come from nowhere and has in fact been building up to this for a while, there does seem to be a new sense of speed to it that wasn’t quite there before.

I think that, Travis and Laura being the amazing role players that they are, this is all based around a lot of little canon things that have been slowly but steadily adding up. So let me list a few:

Fjord going paladin: I think it’s fair to say that this class change has had a major impact on Fjord. First of all, Jester was his biggest supporter from day one and the kiln talk clearly motivated him to let go of Uk’otoa and risk everything to pick his own path. And ever since then, since that “check in [Fjord] needed” in his own words, he’s been far more open about who he truly is and what he wants and how much he loves his friends. This has, also, clearly translated in him being more open and vocal on how much he appreciates Jester. Like, remember Travis made a direct correlation to Fjord losing his powers momentarily to him realizing how much her constant support meant to him in comparison, something he had maybe taken for granted and suddenly realized was the rock he could lean on. By the time they were about to leave ti Traveler Con, he was already pushing forth tentatively with things like asking her in a casual date night at the chateau.

The build up to Traveler Con: we got to see Fjord increasingly worrying about Jester’s relationship with The Traveler. There was some jealousy in his reactions even before (“He’s not THAT handsome”) but there was also the fear that he would somehow harm Jester in the process. Add to that his confession to Beau thy for a while he worried that TC would mean the end of the M9 and you get a mindset where Fjord has clearly been pondering about the possibility of losing said constancy and support in a blink (wouldn’t be the first time for him to lose a home in a violent way).

Fjord died: sadly they haven’t talked much about it in canon but, like, Fjord literally died. And that puts things into perspective. I don’t think that his admitting to Jester he’s “actually enjoying” her physical search for the orb in his abs right after he died is a coincidence. I mean, if you could die at any given moment because you forgot to be ever vigilant at sea, that puts a lot of things into context and makes you bolder to take some risks and grasp life and happiness wherever you can.

Fjord’s death affected Jester too: I mean, it isn’t just the way he’s dealing with it but she also had to see him dead, she was present and anxious during the resurrection and visibly shaken through the whole thing, even as they pulled the orb out (which you could see she wanted to do herself before Cad stepped up). It puts things in perspective for her, too, how close she was to losing her closest and oldest friend aside from her god.

Jester has been going through a lot: and while that was definitely a deterrent for either of them to properly make an romantic advance, it was also the catalyst for him to be there for her, just like Jester was very vocally supportive of him during the pirate and the paladin arcs. These two, by their own definition since ep 3, look after each other. So she going through a rough spot with her god and confidence has definitely been a catalyst for Fjord to step up his game and offer the same steadiness he’s received on her end.

Fjord just found out he’s not the sole competitor: Beau really helped open Fjord’s eyes to the fact that Jester’s attractiveness and magnetism aren’t something exclusive to him. Others notice. Others see her like that. Of course they do. For the first time, maybe, Fjord’s insecurities are contrasted with the urgency of knowing his reluctance or lack of action could make him lose his chance with her. If he truly wants and hopes for more, he needs to get over his fear and take action.

Words have power: there’s just something about Fjord finally admitting his feelings out loud to Beau (as much as he danced around them) that makes them more tangible for him. You can see it during the hex thing and after, in Nicodranas and in Rexxentrum. It’s like, since he has admitted it to his friend, he can no longer lie to himself either. He has finally accepted there’s something there that, until now, was left unspoken.

Jester is heading to a better place: with Traveler Con left behind, she doesn’t have so much on her plate and with the pressure gone she is finally open to let others in, to be more vulnerable, to re-evaluate her relationships with herself and others and take stock of what (and who!) she wants. Jester telling her mother that by the end of TC she realized what is truly important to her, when we literally saw her hesitate between Artagan and Fjord and later said she was glad Fjord was hanging on to her, is a huge indicator of where her intentions might be heading.

So, to sum up. Fjord is in a better place, has been reassured that their relationship is a long term thing he can hold on to and has a growing sense of urgency with the realization that “life is short”. So, of course he’s being more vocal and present and forward in the affections he’s been harboring for a while. Meanwhile, Jester is too in a better (though not yet ideal) place, learning to open herself up to others that love her and reevaluating the importance of her relationships to both her oldest friend and her newer ones.

They are both in a place where moving forward feels exciting and necessary. There’s a sense of rush and excitement to them, as they finally take steps to figure this out. The past three weeks for them —leading to Rumblecusp (with Fjord’s dead), building up to Traveler Con (with Jester’s vulnerability) and the mess of the final event (both of them faced with some of their worst fears)— have been intense and brining with raw emotion. Of course it feels like everything is moving fast. It is. That’s the point. So are they, and that’s the beauty of it.

#fjorester #fjord stone #jester lavorre #critical role #cr spoilers #sofia's nonsense #im exhausted and need to sleep #and i typed this on my phone in the dark #so i hope it makes sense

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celosiaa · 4 years ago

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let me be your shelter

CHRISTMAS FIC CHRISTMAS FIC!! Chapter one is here--many many days after I intended it to be up. It’s not exactly what I want it to be. But I hope you’ll find it enjoyable all the same. Chapter two is coming, I promise :)

“Come on, dads!!”

Calling from far ahead of them, Emma races through the snow, braids flying behind her in the bitter cold wind. Not that she seems to mind—according to the past week of dancing around the kitchen, marking the days off with big red x’s on their wall calendar, and reminding her dads over and over again that this Friday is the day—this was set to be the best day of her twelve-year-old life yet.

“Come on!”

“Just slow down a moment, Em!” Jon calls with a laugh, brushing a wayward curl out of his eyes. “You’re missing a lot of good ones!”

It’s true—she had, in fact, been flying so quickly past the rows and rows of Christmas trees, ripe for the cutting, barely brushing past on her search to find just the right one. That of course, Martin had to remind her could only be so tall, could only be so wide if it were to fit in their flat. And naturally, it didn’t seem she was going to listen.

“I want to find the biggest one!”

“I know, habibti,” Jon calls back. “But remember what Dad said, right? Martin?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to Jon’s, brows lifted as if slightly alarmed.

“What I—said?”

“About the tree, darling,” Jon mutters, slipping his double-gloved hand around Martin’s bare one, grounding him.

This time of year was always difficult for him—the darkening of the sky casting long shadows over his thoughts, which already fill with fog far more often than makes Jon comfortable. Even if he does have a sun lamp at home, something to drive it away for a bit—it has been abundantly clear that the past week especially has been a struggle. Today, however, things had seemed a bit lighter—or at least, so Jon had thought.

“Oh—right. Right, darling, we’ve got to get just a medium-sized one, yeah? Otherwise it won’t stand up straight!” he says, a ghost of a smile playing across his wind-flushed face.

“Ugghh, fine,” she laments, rolling her eyes as far as they will go and widening the gap between them in frustration.

“Is it storming up there, love?” Jon asks quietly, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his gaze with his own.

At the familiar metaphor, Martin obliges—smile drawn up so his cheeks just touch the edges of his glasses, hiding the deep bags that had only just begun to fade from the depressive episode of the past weeks.

“Just overcast, is all. I’m fine,” he assures, squeezing back—and Jon raises an eyebrow in question, doubtful of Martin’s definition of “fine.”

“No, really, I am,” he laughs, bending down to press a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Promise. Thank you for checking.”

Supposing that would have to do for now, Jon decides to let the matter go—looping his arm through Martin’s as they keep walking down the snow-dusted path.

“Alright,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Martin’s shoulder. “Let me know if the weather turns.”

“I will. Don’t worry, love.”

Of course I will. Always.

“Here! I’ve got one!”

Shouting excitedly from up ahead, Emma waves her gloved hands around in the air, before diving right into the branches to hug the trunk of the tree that was, objectively, the best of the lot. This pulls a true, gorgeous bit of laughter from Martin—the first time Jon has heard it in weeks.

To Jon, there could not be a single thing more lovely.

“That’s a good one, Em,” Jon praises as they reach her, trying very hard not to think about all the sap likely to stick in her newly-plaited hair. “What do you think, Dad?”

“Hmm…”

Feigning a moment of deep consideration earns him an intense doe-eyed, pleading look from his daughter, silently begging. As if he could truly refuse her.

“Well, by my calculations,” he says, winking a bit at his husband, who rolls his eyes fondly. “That should do just wonderfully.”

“YES!!!” Emma shouts, immediately releasing her hold on the tree and wrapping her sap-laden arms around them both. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time the fog has truly cleared from Martin’s eyes in month, and Jon smiles—choosing to cherish it dearly.

—

“Little bit to the left, habibi.”

“Aw, Boss, I didn’t know we were on that level!” Tim grins, helping Martin to straighten out the tree in the corner of their flat. “Should have said something sooner, habibi.”

“Shut it, Tim.”

The winning smile he flashes Jon at his coveted prize—a bit of exasperation from him—sends a pang of warmth spreading through Jon’s chest. Even if it’s been so many years now since…everything, he still feels so lucky to be on the receiving end of Tim’s smiles again. And a bit undeserving, if he’s honest. They’ve talked about it, of course—many times, in fact—but Jon has long since been forced to accept that things will never be quite like they were before.

Though that does mean that things have the potential to be better, and for that…for that, Jon is grateful.

“Could we focus please?” Martin pants a bit irritably, as he bears the brunt of the tree’s weight. “I’d rather not be squashed by this thing.”

“Sorry, Marto! Left it is then, habibi.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

—

A few hours later finds them settled around a lovely fire, steaming cups of tea in their hands, courtesy of Martin. Sasha has joined them now as well, curled up with Tim on an armchair with Emma sitting at their feet. Beside him on the sofa sits Martin, his arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders—and as he’s done every holiday since the rebirth of the world, Jon finds himself pondering the fact that he never would have thought this possible. Certainly not for him, for any of them, really. They should, all of them, be dead. Or worse. And yet—and yet. Here they are, making amends. Making their home together.

A family.

“Em, you would not believe the kinds of things your Baba and I used to get up to,” Tim grins, the bit of wine he’s had over the course of the evening painting his cheeks rosy. “Before he became my boring boss, that is. He’s absolutely mad.”

“Tim—“

“You hush,” he bellows, still laughing. “Emma deserves to know about the time we got trapped in that apartment complex, do you remember?”

“You’ve just told me to hush.”

“Hush, Jon, I’m telling a story!”

Rolling his eyes, Jon picks up his own glass again, taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at Martin in the meantime—pleased to see the bit of ruddiness masking the lightest of his freckles, a whisper of a smile planted on his face as he listens to the conversation. Nothing cloudy in his eyes, no fog—just Martin, his Martin. And in Jon’s opinion, that more than warrants the small kiss he presses into the line of his jaw, just beneath his ear.

“Hmm, what’s that for, darling?” Martin asks, turning towards him.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon hums against him, “Just you. Just this.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

“Eww, dads!!”

Alas, they’d been caught—a disapproving Emma wrinkles her nose at them from her spot on the floor, Tim and Sasha muffling their giggles behind her.

“Sorry Em, sorry,” Martin laughs, untangling himself a bit from Jon and reaching for his own glass of wine. “Have to forgive us old and gross people.”

“You don’t have to be gross just because you’re old!” she insists, pointing a finger back at her aunt and uncle behind her. “Uncle Tim and Auntie Sasha are old too, but they’re not gross!”

“Hey!!”

Sasha’s look of incredulousness is enough to set Jon into fits—but something seems to catch a bit in his chest as he does, a vise clamping down over his ribcage.

Damn it damn it

His next inhale brings him no relief, merely tightening the grip, everything in his chest folding in on itself as he finds himself in the throes of once again gasping for air. Distantly, he rather thinks the wheezing sound of his breath to be embarrassing—but there is little on which he can focus other than keeping his vision from narrowing, narrowing.

“Jon?”

“M-Mar—”

“Are you panicking, love?”

Air air need air

“Can’t—”

He’s cut off by the closeness of his own airways sending out his breath with a fit of coughing, harsh and painful and—well, there goes his vision again.

“Here, Jon, your inhaler’s right here—”

Air air need air

Can’t breathe

Wrapping a shaking hand around Martin’s, Jon takes as deep of an inhale of the medicine as he can, holding holding holding his breath until it hurts, before letting it out—begging everything not to close again before he can get something up to his starving brain.

“Take it again, Jon. One more, come on.”

It comes just a bit easier this time, the gasping just a bit deepened, letting him pull it deeper into his lungs, opening everything enough to start his vision returning to him again. Even so, it takes a few minutes of just breathing, the room around him uncomfortably silent, save for the fading whistle of his chest, before he can even think about picking up his head again from where he’s braced it against his arms.

“—alright? You with us?”

“Sor—sorry,” he pants, still a bit breathless, shaky, heart racing uncomfortably as it always does. “Dunno—what happened.”

“Alright, Baba?”

Emma rests her hand gently atop his knee, looking quickly between himself and Martin. Lord knows he’s scared them enough times; caused them enough anxiety over his health that the guilt weighs so unbearably heavy on him in moments like this. When his daughter has to be his comfort. When he knows it ought to be the other way around.

Burden burden terrible father burden burden—

“Sorry—ha—Em,” he gasps, offering her a tight smile and a nod. The best he can do for now. “Fine—m’fine.”

“Was it something I did?” an unusually quiet Tim asks from across the room, hesitant to even draw his attention.

Damn it damn it

Of course I’ve got to screw things up again.

When Tim had first reentered their lives, they had found it difficult to process on both sides—the grief and anger and distrust layered up with trauma had proven to be a difficult thing to break down. Unhelped by the panic rising unbidden in Jon’s throat every time Tim had raised his voice, even with friendly teasing at first. Though he would never say, Jon knows how deeply this had wounded his friend—and Jon could certainly understand how upsetting it is for your own voice to become another’s nightmare.

They’d worked on it, just like everything else. Nothing of the kind of panic Jon once felt upon hearing an increase in volume has happened in years at this point, but still—still, Tim is afraid. Afraid of how fragile, how stupid, how unforgiving—

“N-no, no. Promise—not you,” he is quick to assure, snapping his head up to meet Tim’s eyes at once, desperate for his trust in this. “Not you.”

The quiet grief in the darkness of Tim’s eyes betrays his doubt.

“Why don’t you stay here and recover while I finish up with the cooking, love?” Martin offers, already rising to do just that.

“Oh—no, Martin—“

He’s tired he’s tired he’s already tired and spent and still recovering

You make everything worse

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at him, still lined with well-hidden exhaustion. “I’ve got it. Just take a minute, okay?”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers at once, following him into the kitchen. To get out of his sight, just in case he was making things worse after all. Just in case Jon was lying.

Damn it damn it

“Incoming!!”

From behind him, Emma’s voice rings out—and the cat is dropped unceremoniously into his lap, giving a soft mrrow of indignation at such treatment. As soon as Jon gives a small smile and a laugh, however, the Duquessa (for she must be properly titled) begins to purr at once, kneading his thigh a bit before draping herself across his lap.

“There you are, Jon—you’re healed!” chuckles Sasha as she stands, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Quite.”

—

“Alright, love?”

Words a bit muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, Martin gazes down at him with furrowed brows where Jon sits on their bed, lost as usual in the thickest, driest biography Martin has ever seen.

“Mmm.”

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

His attention is caught at last, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the hungrily-devoured words and toward his husband—hair a mess, in just boxers and a t-shirt, a bit of toothpaste splodged around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry—sorry, what did you say?” he asks, unable to hide a fond smile as Martin rolls his eyes, turning around to rinse out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. When he’s finished, he meets Jon’s questioning look with a smiling shake of the head—before pulling Jon in to melt into his side, pressing a kiss against his hairline.

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeats, letting his lips linger longer atop Jon’s forehead this time. “You’ve been sniffly.”

“Have I?”

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Not particularly.”

It is the truth, although a bit masked—if he is, indeed, sniffly, it seems likely to have contributed to his lingering shortness of breath that evening. Not that he had found it especially necessary to mention this to Martin. No reason to worry him needlessly, after all.

When Martin fetches him the box of tissues from the living room, however, he finds himself grateful. Something certainly seems to have built up in his sinuses, and though eased a bit by his ministrations, it seems to be something of which he cannot entirely rid himself.

“Aw, darling,” Martin tuts with concern, pressing the back of his hand against Jon’s forehead, just to check again. “Are you getting ill?”

No no no no

Can’t be ill

Can’t worry him

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assures, offering Martin a bit of a puffy-eyed smile. “Probably just from being out in the cold.”

“Hmm.” Worrying at his lower lip, Martin sweeps his eyes briefly over the rest of Jon’s body. “What about your joints? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon chuckles, rolling his eyes and fondly pressing a kiss against his husbands’ cheek. “No need to fuss, love. You need to get some rest.”

“Fussing is my specialty, though.”

“Don’t I know it.”

A small, lopsided smile spreads across his face—and Jon finds himself flushing at the gentleness of it.

Gorgeous.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, tenderly tilting Jon’s chin upwards and into a kiss. “I’ll quit fussing, then. If I must.”

“You absolutely must. Or we’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best, habibi.”

—

Click.

At the soft noise, Jon bolts awake, heart already pounding—from the shock of being startled awake, or POTS, he could not be sure. Perhaps both.

All he knows is that his heart is racing, and Martin is gone, and he can’t breathe.

Fuck fuck fuck

His lungs are at once too full and desperately empty—useless, vision tunneling as he pants into the darkness, reaching out blindly for his inhaler on the nightstand. Shaky, he nearly loses his hold on it twice before bringing it to his lips, forcing as much air out as he can before drawing a shallow breath of the medicine. But he cannot hold it, cannot keep it in long enough for it to work.

Help. He needs help.

He needs Martin.

“M—ha—Mar—“

He cannot choke out the words, not around the closing up of his throat, forcing him to cough without air. Without the ability to breathe back in. Dizzy, dizzy, can’t breathe, breathe breathe help Martin—

“Jon—oh, shit shit shit!”

Distantly, he hears the sound of running feet retreating from the bedroom and back down the hall—but his vision is starting to grey out, heart pounding out of his chest, and all he can focus on is don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out.

“Alright, here, here—I got the nebulizer, shit. Christ, Jon.”

He loses time for a few minutes. Nothing remains in his memory but a swirling, spinning picture of the room around him, the feeling of something being placed over his mouth and nose. And when he comes fully back around, it’s to the feeling of Martin’s strong arms bracing him forward, keeping his airways as open as possible while the medicine has been allowed to work. To Martin’s shadowed face, bruises ever-deepening beneath his eyes.

Jon does not need the full powers of the Beholding anymore to know that Martin has once again gone without sleep.

“M—sorry—“

“Hush, Jon, just hush,” Martin reassures, rubbing his back when the coughing starts up again, nearly hard enough to vomit.

He won’t be trying to speak again any time soon.

“You’re alright, I’m here.”

As the minutes pass, the breaths come more easily, returning Jon’s awareness more fully. Now that his vision is no longer swirling, he takes stock of the pulse ox clipped on his finger, Martin’s eyes anxiously watching it, the mobile grasped tightly in one shaking hand, ready to call 999 at any moment.

“Martin—“

“Hush, Jon.”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

But there is, isn’t there? Worry, worry, always worry over him. Deepening his husband’s exhaustion, burden, anxiety.

It seems to be his lot in life to make things worse.

“Doing any better?” Martin asks as the wheezing fades from his exhales, though he wouldn’t dare remove the mask for a few more minutes at least.

“Better,” Jon whispers. “Dunno—what happened.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve woken up like this,” Martin worries, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jon’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Thought we were managing a little better lately.”

“So did—I.”

With a long, concerned sigh, Martin shifts to sit just slightly behind him, pulling him back to lean against his chest. For once—for once—the warmth and comfort of it all outweighs the guilt of its necessity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin assures, the slight tremor of his voice belying his uncertainty. “We’ll get it sorted, love.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh. Just be still, Jon. Just be still.”

Though neither of them may be able to sleep that night— there is a certain rest to be found in just holding each other. And for now—for now, that is enough.

#cw asthma attack #my writing #I hope there aren't too many mistakes here #I didn't get to meticulously edit!!#but I hope it's enjoyable all the same :)#and merry christmas eve if you celebrate!!#if not I hope you're having a wonderful day all the same and you're safe and well <3 #emma

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