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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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Context so people who haven’t seen Ghosts can still read and enjoy this: Alex is the ghost of a WWII Commanding Officer. In this fic he relives his army days before he died, telling Julie all about it, focusing on another soldier in particular - Lieutenant William Havers.

Sidenote for people who have seen Ghosts: Alex is the Captain, Julie is Alison (because I would pay real money for them to have a conversation like this in the show), and Willie is Havers.

This is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. I wanted to include Willex in the longer Ghosts AU I’m writing but I couldn’t find a natural way to fit it in so I wrote this as something completely separate. Every interaction between Alex and Willie is taken from BBC Ghosts and is very gay.

Here’s to Buried Secrets

Alex could remember it like it was yesterday. Late June in 1940 – hazy spring had bled into a dazed summer, his troops were getting restless after going on a year of work, and he was just about ready to lose his mind. That day had been one of startling revelations and hard-hitting truths, painful decisions that felt like betrayals, stagnant silences and hurt.

With the war dragging on endlessly, his troops had been getting complacent. They did critical work at their base, top secret and crucial to the war effort, but there were times where nothing would happen for days at a time and the troops would get bored. Their behaviour was beginning to waver, and though he wasn’t too against it overall (he understood why they were acting up, he was bored to death too) Alex had to do the right thing and set them straight.

“Now,” he said, “that brings me neatly to point sixteen. There is still a great deal of noise going on at night – laughing, giggling, horseplay. Now, we all get bored – that’s inevitable in our circumstances – but may I remind you, we are at war. I wo…”

He had let his sentence trail off. At that moment, the doors at the back of the room had swung open and in walked Willie. Lieutenant William Havers was Alex’s right-hand man and close friend. There couldn’t always be much room for friendships when at war, and living in such close quarters with everyone in the house could make bonding difficult, but there was something about Willie and Alex that had allowed them simply to click. They understood each other – they cared for each other. Perhaps a little too much.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Alex greeted, interrupting his own speech.

Willie walked towards him, hand outstretched, holding a small, folded piece of paper. “Communique for you, sir, from HQ, marked urgent.”

“Ah,” Alex returned, taking the note. “Finally! This’ll be my requisition for a service revolver.”

Willie smiled gently as Alex unfolded the note, and Alex suppressed his own. But as soon as he read the note, there was no smile left to hide. This was that first striking blow, that devastating loss; the note brought with it the news of a surrender.

“Good God,” Alex exclaimed, skimming the note over again, making sure he’d read it correctly.

“Sir?” Willie prompted, sounding concerned.

“France has surrendered,” Alex explained.

“My God,” muttered Willie. The troops, still assembled to the side of the two men, began murmuring amongst themselves, the tension in the room much higher now than when Alex had been telling them they needed to go to bed on time.

Alex looked out the window, scanning the sky for any sign of attack. It was silly, he knew – nothing could have happened so quickly – but as it was wont to do, his anxiety began to overwhelm him.

“The Germans are coming,” he said, breath hitching in his throat.

“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet, sir,” Willie told him.

Alex shook his head, regained control. Willie was always good at doing that; he could sense when Alex needed help to calm down, and he could do so with an easy joke, a clever quip. Coming from anyone else, talking to a commanding officer that way might have been a sign of disrespect, but from Willie it was just what Alex needed.

“What? Right,” Alex agreed.

Willie could see he was still distressed. “May I suggest we initiate the emergency lockdown protocol, sir?” he said easily.

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed. He was eternally thankful for Willie – God only knew where he would be without that man by his side. “Yes, jolly good.” He turned to address his troops. “Now, it’s vital that nothing fall into enemy hands.”

“You heard the CO,” Willie said to the troops as Alex turned to watch out the window again. “Get to your duties.”

The troops dispersed in a cloud of excited but nervous chatter, getting to their stations, hiding their work. Alex was left alone with Willie, his only comfort. As Willie came to stand by the window with him, that easy, dashing smile on his lips, Alex felt himself both tense and relax. His worry ebbed away, but it was replaced with the hammering of his heart and a shortness of breath.

“Er… exciting times, Willie,” he ventured. He knew he should have called Willie by his proper title, or at least his surname, but when in private the two were much more open and colloquial with each other. Besides, in the wake of such a bombshell using his first name didn’t seem so scandalous. “If they do invade, we might get a proper pop at Jerry.”

“Yes,” Willie said through a chuckle. But the smile on his face dropped after a moment. Alex felt his heart plummet – Willie was usually all smiles and it was never good when they fell away. “About that, sir… I know we do vital work here, sir… but I want to get involved in the fighting. I’ve put in for a transfer.”

Alex felt like his breath had been stolen from him. Here again, that blow to the gut, that crushing feeling of betrayal. He knew distantly that Willie wasn’t betraying him and he could understand why he wanted to go. What stung was that he was only finding out after the fact. Though he knew also why Willie hadn’t told him: because they both knew that Alex would have done everything in his power to stop him, and it would have been too painful for either of them to bear.

Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but there was something magical about the bond they had. It was like they shared a soul, improved each other, completed one another. Alex didn’t want to think too hard about it. The thought of what he and Willie could have been was painful in innumerable ways.

He still didn’t voice those thoughts now, even though he knew it may be one of the only chances he had left. Instead, through a hitch in his voice, he said, “You’re leaving?”

Willie didn’t reply for a moment, a pregnant pause growing between them, pushing them apart. It stung, and Alex couldn’t feel anything.

But then Willie gathered himself and said, “There’s talk of a North Africa front.”

“Yes,” Alex replied, nodding like it all made perfect sense, like he didn’t feel as if he were going to die. “Yes, well, I totally understand, of course. Carry on.”

He ended it like a command, an order. It wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from Willie - no, he wanted to keep him close by forever - but he needed to grasp some semblance of control and giving orders, doing his job as CO let him do just that - be in control, understand what was happening.

“Thank you,” Willie replied, excruciatingly quiet, ducking his head.

He left the room and Alex in musty silence, the air heavy with revealed secrets and suffocating like gas. Alex’s mind was swimming, fogged with hopeless fantasies, weighed down by the knowledge that the one person who kept him going would soon be leaving him.

Alex had almost forgotten that Julie was there until he looked around and saw her watching him. He was dragged back down from his own mind, his own dredged up memories, and instead reminded himself that he had been telling her all that, not reliving it for no good reason. Perhaps he’d got a bit too caught up in it all, lost in his own head.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Willie was wonderful. A very fine soldier. I never found what became of him, though, after he left for North Africa. We exchanged letters for a while, but it was difficult – what with the top-secret work I was doing, we couldn’t have addresses being traced and whatnot. We soon fell out of touch, and then… well, I died.”

Julie reached out as if to take his hand, but then seemed to remember they couldn’t touch, so rested it in the space between them on the sofa. Alex smiled weakly, laid his own hand beside hers. He tried to avoid looking her in the eye – her expression radiated pity and it was the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said gently. “It must have been awful.”

“Luckily, a true soldier like me becomes adept at hiding his feelings,” he said, trying for light and joking but clearly missing his target. “Besides. I couldn’t worry my troops. Had to keep morale up, which was difficult enough in itself. It was… it was rather a lot to come to terms with.”

“What happened when he left?” Julie asked softly.

Alex sighed. “Well…”

Alex had been in his office just a few days later. He was staring down at an envelope, carefully sealed. In it was the blueprints for a new limpet mine, a prototype bomb that would perhaps revolutionise the war had it not been so unstable – Alex and Willie had been trying to create a version that was safer, easier to use, but so far had come up empty. They had been instructed to dispose of the bomb and its blueprints; the mission would be dropped.

The envelope was marked simply with the word ‘William’. That was what the operation was called, its codename. Alex had been the one to decide upon it, uncreatively naming it after the first thing he saw, which just so happened to be his lieutenant sat by his side. Willie was the only other one to know about Operation William and when he left it would just be Alex.

Alex had imagined many a time that the contents of the envelope were something entirely different, that the name on the front was to address someone rather than to hide something. In his dreams, there was a letter inside written in his own handwriting and it spilled every deep dark secret he was keeping. It would be addressed to Willie and for his eyes only. In his dreams, Willie would write his own letter in return, addressed to Alex.

He would never write that letter, he knew. It could get him killed.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock at his office door.

“Come,” he called, tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The door opened and Willie let himself in, shutting it behind him, standing to attention.

“Ah, Willie,” Alex greeted, glad to see him as usual. “At ease, at ease. I was just thinking about you, actually. How’s the emergency lockdown coming?”

“Very good, sir,” Willie returned, smiling sweetly. “Most items have been squared away, as per the order.”

“Excellent,” Alex returned, beaming. He moved to stand behind his desk, closer to Willie but with a barrier between them. As he tried to speak, Willie began too. “I see–”

“I’ve come to tell you that–”

Both laughed, nerves buzzing between them. Alex knew what his were about – he could only guess and hope as to why Willie seemed a little on edge. The space between them felt charged with expectation, though what it was for Alex didn’t know.

“Sorry,” he said, returning Willie’s genuine but faltering smile, “you first, Lieutenant.”

There was a pause. Uncomfortable, excruciatingly anticipatory. The last remains of Willie’s smile crumbled and he swallowed before he said those few words that would tear down the last of Alex’s resolve and ruin him forever, haunting every dream and nightmare and waking moment. The words that would echo in his head whenever there was silence. The words he would fall asleep thinking about every night from that day forward.

“I’m afraid I’m leaving you, sir… At eighteen-hundred hours this evening.”

The world stilled. Alex wasn’t sure his heart was beating anymore. The part of their shared soul that was Willie’s was torn away from him. He came up blank.

“So soon?” was what came out of his mouth, weak, desperate, small. He hated himself for it, so tried for light-heartedness and gestured to the shining new gun on Willie’s belt. “That would explain your new service revolver. I don’t suppose they sent one for me, did they?”

“Only for front-line personnel at this stage, sir,” Willie said, a light but forced smile on his face.

“Of course. Yes.”

“It’s North Africa, sir,” Willie said. There was something like hope in his voice – it felt like he was asking Alex not to be too upset. Be proud, he was asking. Be happy. For me. “I’ll be able to have a proper swing at Fritz!”

“You make sure you give them a bloody nose,” Alex joked.

He answered Willie’s silent plea for his blessing, his reassurance, his pride, and he tried hard to be positive. He attempted a half-hearted fake punch, throwing it in Willie’s direction and was delighted when Willie responded (if only subtly) as if he’d been struck. Willie was grinning, looking happy, looking excited. Alex had to try and be excited for him too.

But still he said, “I shall miss you, Willie.”

Willie’s face fell again. Alex half-hoped his meaning hadn’t been easy to decipher. He knew what he meant, he knew why he’d said it, but it was a stupid and dangerous thing to say – a stupid and dangerous thing to hope for. Willie swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing, and Alex couldn’t read his expression. Though he was fairly certain it was something similar to his own.

He had always known that Willie felt it too, this forbidden and electric thing between them, whatever it was. This shared soul that was now breaking in two, never to be repaired, never to be recreated. It was this moment that Alex realised he and Willie could never have what they wanted.

So he backtracked.

“By which I mean, of course, that we shall miss you. And I know the Wilson House XI will certainly miss your cover drive.”

Willie’s smile came back too slowly. Alex knew his lie hadn’t come quick enough. He knew the unspoken words and unwritten messages were still there between them, heavy and quaking and full of fear, sadness, silence, and things neither wanted to put a name too. They danced around it, though they wouldn’t have to for much longer. Just a few more hours and whatever they had would be shredded forever as Willie said goodbye.

“Thank you, sir,” Willie said. “Well… if that’s all?”

Alex collected himself, simply looked at Willie for a moment before making himself reply. “Yes.”

Willie nodded, took it as his cue to leave. He pulled the door open and was on his way out of the room.

There was so much Alex wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. He wanted to spend a hundred more sleepless nights with Willie, working on secret projects and perfecting weapons. He wanted a thousand more late night conversations spoken in metaphors and riddles, deciphering each other, growing closer, learning more about their relationship than was permitted. He wanted a million more moments just to look at Willie’s face, to dream of what he couldn’t have.

All he wanted was to speak this silent truth that hung between them like a noose – damn him if it killed them both.

He called him back. “I say, Willie?”

Willie turned faster than lightning, hand rested on the doorknob but eyes trained on Alex like his face was all he ever wanted to see.

He tried to say all he wanted to, but knew he could never. It appeared he just had time for one last metaphor, a final riddle, one last waltz around their dire and doomed reality.

“It’s a bally shame we won’t get to finish the operation together,” he said.

Judging by the look on Willie’s face, the message was received loud and clear. Willie offered a smile, genuine but bittersweet. And without a word, he left the room.

Alex took the little envelope out of his pocket again, stared down at it. He had wanted to bury Operation William alongside Willie – they had both worked so hard but for nothing and it seemed only right they should rid the world of this failure together. But Alex would have to do it alone.

If only he could write that imaginary letter now, he thought. There was so much he could say, but not enough words in the English language to say it. There weren’t words to describe the abject loss he found himself steeped in, the gaping hole that had opened in his chest, the weeping wound that would never quite heal.

That night, alone, he went into the garden with the blueprints and the prototype bomb and he buried them both. With it, he buried all memory and evidence of himself and Willie, all their hard work, all they had built and experienced together.

He bottled those emotions to never let them out.

“He left that night,” Alex said to Julie, “six o’clock on the dot. The rest of our crew saw him off, waving from the doorway, but I stayed in my office. I told them I had paperwork to do.”

“Did you get to say goodbye?” Julie asked.

Alex sighed. “That conversation… well, that was our goodbye. The rest of the house was in chaos so I didn’t have another chance to speak with him alone, everyone needed either my assistance or his.”

Julie’s eyes were brimming with tears; Alex didn’t look at her, or his own eyes would have watered too. “So that was it? That was the last you saw of him?”

“Sort of. I watched him leave from my office window. He… he gave me one last wave from the gate then disappeared, off on his own adventure. Without me.”

“Don’t you wonder what happened to him?” Julie asked, shuffling closer to Alex on the sofa.

“All the time,” Alex breathed. “I looked for his name in every newspaper and every message I received after we lost contact but I never heard of him again.”

“Would you like me to Google him?” Julie suggested. She had explained this whole ‘Googling’ thing to him a while ago and from Alex’s understanding she simply had to type Willie’s name into the little search bar and all his information would come up in an instant. It was quite remarkable, really, and perhaps it would give him that last little bit of closure. And yet…

“No,” he said, “no, thank you, Julie. It’s quite alright. I… I have this version in my head of who he became and I shouldn’t like to spoil it. I shouldn’t like to taint what memory I have left of him, should his life have turned sour.”

Julie smiled softly. “What’s the image in your head like?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose I like to imagine that he was the best soldier out there on the North Africa front. He rose to a position of command – that was where he thrived, really, but good Lord was he good behind a gun. He was well-respected and kind and his men adored him. And I pray that he survived the war, that he made a living for himself, that he got everything he could have ever wanted in life. Really, I suppose… I suppose I just imagine him to be happy. That’s all I could have ever wanted for him. And if I were to find out he were not happy, well… no, I quite like the Willie I remember.”

Julie left a pause before she spoke again. Alex could see the cogs turning in her mind, could see her wondering if she should say whatever was on the tip of her tongue. He knew what was coming the moment she opened her mouth.

“Did you love him, Alex?”

Alex stood, crossed the room and stood by the window. His hands clasped behind his back, swagger stick gripped tightly, he looked outside, eyes trained on the gate. How many times had he stood here during the war and after, waiting for what he had lost to return, hoping in vain that by some miracle he could be granted his happiness? How many times had he wished for what he could not have? How many times had he replayed those final moments in his head, watching Willie wave goodbye?

It happened again as he stood there. It was as if a cloud came over him, throwing him back decades, putting him right back where he started. Willie stood by the gate, thick coat donned, hat atop his head, his bag slung over his shoulder. He waved up at Alex, and Alex smiled back.

“Yes,” he said at last, so quietly that he thought Julie may not have heard him. A great weight was lifted from his shoulders, decades of repression undermined in that one admission of his true feelings. It wasn’t enough – it never would be because he’d never said it to Willie – but acceptance was a start.

Slow as death, Willie – Alex’s version of him – ceased his waving and walked through the gate, disappearing into the darkness to where Alex would never follow. And for the first time after reliving that agonising memory, Alex let himself smile.

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sunnomnoms · 5 years ago

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Hiiii I Found Your Blog In The Tags And I Never Thought I Would Enjoy Ace Attorney Imagines Before. I've Been Into It For Years And I Think This Idea Is So Adorable. I Hope Requests Are Open, And If I Can Ask For Relationship Headcanons For Hobo Phoenix Where There Is An Established Relationship Between You Two, And How It Continues Once He Gets Disbarred? I Always Wonder How Those Eight Years Would Have Been When He Had Some Light In His Life Besides Trucy. Btw I Love Your Aizawa Writing!

Aaaa ! A new anon that actually likes my AA stuff ! I’m so blessed :,) I’m truly flattered my writing is what got you interested aha, you’re too sweet ! Also, thank you!

I got SUPER CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I AM SO SORRY

Fun fact: I actually cried while writing it 🥺🥺

Some warnings: this is female coded! Some angst, some fluff, family cuteness, family struggles, agh-! It has a happy ending though!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

You had known Phoenix for at least a year or so before you started dating. You were a witness to a crime he took, which is what brought you two together in the first place. If it’s important, yes, your testimony did help a good bit for solving the case!

While working on it, Phoenix found himself feeling a bit... fuzzy, around you. It wasn’t ever something he intended to happen, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be in a relationship. But he couldn’t just deny the immense amount of chemistry going on between the both of you.

Oddly enough, the two of you didn’t lose contact after the case was over. Phoenix took it upon himself to go and see you sometimes when he wasn’t working on anything. This fuzzy feeling was starting to get worse, and the chemistry was slowly turning into tension...

... and within a year or so of knowing you, he took it upon himself to ask if you would be interested in something more. You happily accepted.

With you now at his side, Phoenix felt a bit more confident. You meant a lot to him, and he made sure to express it as much as he could to you. He really was a sweetheart, he made it his goal to let you know how much he loved and appreciate all you did for him. Whether it be helping him figure out a case or just making him dinner after a long day in the office, he never took any of it for granted.

The incident happened a few years later, and it wasn’t something you could have seen coming from a million miles away.

Your boyfriend, an attorney, came home without his beloved badge... and a few days later, was asked to care for a child.

Phoenix was reasonably shaken about losing his badge due to his fatal mistake, but he was more worried about someone else.

“[Y/N], she’s got no where to go...” He said as he held your hands, tears brimming his eyes. The little girl I’m question, Trucy, sat in your living room as the two of you spoke quietly in your bedroom. You felt Phoenix give your hands a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t we give it a try...?”

Truth be told, you and Phoenix had been trying for a baby for a good while now, but nothing seemed to be working. It had started to take a toll on you mentally, making you fear you would never have children at all. Trucy had appeared at a time when you were sure you were going to give up entirely. Perhaps... this could be what you needed all along...?

With tears in your eyes, you agreed happily to raising Trucy with Phoenix. He brought you into a tight embrace as you began to feel yourself cry. He quietly whispered about how good of a mother you were going to be to her, and how he’s going to do everything he could with you to give her a normal life.

Raising Trucy wasn’t a struggle at all. Though mischievous at times, she was a delight to deal with. Your stresses of how you were raising her was fading, because despite everything... she held on tight and was strong. She seemed just as determined to live a normal life as you were to give her one. That is, as normal as raising a little magician can be!

Phoenix, in the beginning, was also great with her. You had never felt so close to him until now. You felt like you had that family you always dreamed of. Granted, it wasn’t perfect, Phoenix was still struggling with coping over his lost badge. You did what you could to assure him that life would untangle itself with time, and that no matter what, you were sure things were going to end up okay. You were there on the countless nights he felt himself fall to apart, you always helped him put back the pieces.

For awhile, you were sure things were getting better. Trucy was doing great, and it seemed like Phoenix was...

Unfortunately, your beloved wasn’t always honest with his feelings. He had suppressed so much... and before you could help him, it’s as if he fell into disrepair.

The struggles came with Phoenix’s sudden and rapidly declining mental health. He had gained a habit to isolate, and you began to go days without seeing him. When he’d show up again, he was vague as to where he was, if he told you at all. It began to take a toll on you, you were beginning to practically raise Trucy alone at this point. Sometimes he’d disappear with Trucy, and that tortured your poor heart more than anything. You could only handle so much paranoia about where they were.

It got to a point in which you basically begged for Phoenix to get professional help. He seemed stubborn when it came to the topic, as if he didn’t want to better himself. You couldn’t even be mad at him, you were too busy sorting out your feelings of dispair and hopelessness. You just wanted a normal life, you wanted a lover, a child, a stable family... you were so close, why did everyone have to fall apart...?

You had ended up taking yourself to therapy to sort out your feelings. Your family and friends gave you conflicting answers as to what to do. Some said to leave him and take Trucy, some said to stay and try and talk to him more, some said to take legal action...

You couldn’t tell what was right at this point. With so many people saying so many things, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to believe. Part of you downplayed the situation, this was how all dads were supposed to be, right? Part of you felt hypersensitive to everything, part of your conscious screaming that you should have ran away the second the red flags began to appear. You didn’t know what to do... so you chose to endure. For Trucy.

It didn’t help that Phoenix picked up a habit for drinking.

The only thing you could ever thank him for was that he stayed away from Trucy when intoxicated. She didn’t need to see him like that. Besides that, he was insufferable to deal with when intoxicated. He was the “I’m not that drunk!!” type, even if he couldn’t stand up. If you had a dime for all the times you had to drag him to bed, you’d never have to worry about the bills ever again. When drunk, he wasn’t physically violent or anything, but he had a habit of saying things that really hurt. It was common for you to put him to bed and spend the rest of the night crying and wonder what went wrong between you two. It was awful that occasionally, Trucy had to come and console you. You felt safer with your daughter than you did you own boyfriend... was it truly supposed to be this way...?

When Apollo came into the picture, you were delighted to meet him. He reminded you of how Phoenix once was when he was a lawyer. Apollo often questioned the family life of the three of you, but you always responded with vague answers. Things like “it’s certainly not perfect, but when is life ever supposed to be perfect?” We’re common time hear from you. It satisfied him for awhile. You’d always hear a ton about Apollo through Trucy, and it was for the most part positive things. Whenever he and Trucy visited the house, you’d quietly thank him for looking over Trucy when Phoenix wasn’t around. He always said it was no issue or whatnot, but you knew deep down he wasn’t expecting to be lowkey babysitting as a lawyer.

As far as you were concerned, Apollo was an addition to the family. Trucy always spoke of him as if he was a big brother, and it warmed your heart to know Trucy had a positive male figure in her life now.

When Phoenix had gone away for longer than usual for his “secret mission”, you had only expected for him to be away to go get messed up in a town over or something. But when he came back, he... brang news.

It was so much to take in at once. Trucy participated in her fathers “disappearance”, her mother was still alive, and Apollo was her half sibling.... what were you to do with yourself? What was it all supposed to mean? Was Trucy going to stay with you? And Apollo, was he now... your son?

You saw Apollo a bit less for the next week or so, you knew that case took a toll on him mentally and you were sure he was up to his eyes in paperwork. You made sure to call him at least once a day to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself.

Trucy was home a bit more now. You were happy to see here in the midst of the storm passing over the whole lot of you. You could tell she was torn up inside, but she still beamed at you with that beautiful smile you adored the second she came into your life. She was so strong, you couldn’t help but tear up a little when you saw her smile in the face of it all.

And Phoenix...

He was still gone for a bit after the fact, but one night he had come home late without you realizing. You were about to go to bed when you heard him call your name from the porch.

You felt your heart drop hearing him, worrying he might be drunk again. You padded your way to the back door, opening it and walking out onto the porch. Phoenix stood from his previous position of leaning on the railing, gesturing to some of the chairs on the deck. “Come sit. I... I wanna talk.”

You sat in one of the chairs, Phoenix pulling up one right in front of you. He inhaled deeply, then letting out a sigh. You were about to ask what this was all about when he gently took both of your hands.

“I... I’m sorry I dumped a bunch of information and left for a few days.” He apologized softly. “... I’ve been getting help.”

You let out a soft gasp. Phoenix looked up at you, and you felt yourself get lost in those beautiful steal blue eyes the same way you did all those years ago. You knew he was being sincere when he said it, but part of you didn’t believe it, what was this supposed to mean...?

“N-Nick, what is this about...?” You said, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt yourself getting choked up.

“[Y/N], this is about us. I lost sight of everything all those years ago- this isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I want and I know it’s not what you want.” Phoenix said, his gentle gaze never leaving you. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity but it just wasn’t there.

“Nick...” you croaked, tears beginning to roll down your face. You watched the tears begin to well up in his own eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.

“[Y/N]... I want to be a family again. A real family, [Y/N], I don’t want to be a stranger in this house anymore. I don’t want you to be afraid of where I am anymore, or be afraid of how Trucy is gonna grow up. I want a real family. I want you, me, Trucy and even Apollo to function like a real family...” He said, bringing your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to them.

“... I’m so sorry [Y/N].” He spoke against your fingers. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but I regret these past years so much... I need you to know that I’m sorry [Y/N]....”

You tried to hold back so you could speak, but your frantic sniffling caught Phoenix’s attention immediately.

“Nick, I-I-!”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you as you fell to pieces in his arms. You sobbed harder than you probably ever had for those past seven years or so. You clutched onto him for dear life, terrified he might disappear again if you let go.

“N-Nick- I-Ive waited s-seven years to hear you say you’ll come back!!! I-I-I’ve waited so long for you to c-come back home again, I-I-!” You wailed, your sobs getting the better of you as you gasped for air between your tears. He whispered gentle apologies to you as he ran his fingers through your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a good bit. You sooner or later leveled out, your sobs dying down to gentle sniffles. Phoenix gently released you from his embrace, taking your hands in his again.

“[Y/N]?”

“Y-Yeah?” You responded shakily. He looked you in the eyes again, a gentle smile on his face.

“I... I want you to be my wife.” He said gently, earning another gasp from you. “Y-You don’t have to say yes now, I understand, b-but I don’t want to just be a lover to you anymore, I-I want to be your husband, [Y/N].” He spoke gently. You felt the tears sting your eyes again. He watched your face for a second, waiting for any sign of an answer to his proposal. You brought a hand to your face as you wiped the fresh tears rolling down your face.

“Oh Nick, I... I’d love to be your wife, Nick. I-I truly thought you would never ask...” You said, smiling as you watched his eyes light up. He let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Y-You mean it? After everything I’ve done you... you still love me..?” He asked. You nodded. “Of course I do.” Letting out another laugh in disbelief, he cupped your face and brought you into a deep kiss.

You were basically smothered with kisses, the two of you giggling like idiots, as giddy as teenagers getting their first tastes of love.

“I’m gonna get better just for you, and I’m gonna go retake the bar exam and I’m gonna fix all of this [Y/N]. I’m gonna give you the life you want and the life you deserve. I’m never going to lose sight of you again. Not you, not Trucy, not even Apollo, we’re gonna be a family and I’m not gonna let anything ever destroy that again. Maybe we can try again for another kid, maybe we can adopt another, I’ll give you anything to make our life perfect again...”

“I love you so much [Y/N].”

#ace attorney phoenix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #phoenix wright #phoenix wright x reader #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney imagines #bro i am CRYINGGGG #WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF #ryu AA tag

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missinghan · 5 years ago

Text

dawn ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : runaway! au; demon!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 10k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : it seems like everyone has their own guardian angel, everyone but you because you’ve given up on Jesus the moment you come down to Lee Minho’s level and shake hands with the Devil.

one.

Your dad is definitely not gonna approve of you hanging by the bar alone after midnight.

It all happened too fast, and you don’t even know where you’re going next. After a call from your manager, which you almost fell asleep as he rambled about boring paperwork, until he dropped the bomb. He said he was sorry for what he’s gonna say next and turned out the label wanted to cut you loose. The entire universe was completely shattered right in front of your eyes. You were utterly speechless when the line went dead so long story short, you packed your bag and ran away.

Like a coward.

You stare blankly at the half-empty glass of Martini in your hand before chuckling lowly. Because life is a little son of a bitch, who’s born with the power to pull on everyone’s strings as if people are a bunch of puppets for whatever gods up there to entertain themselves. Getting signed into a music production company right after your graduation swept your life over with joy. Your parents were… overwhelmed to say the least but they still wanted you to move to Seoul. Two years later, your life once again was flipped upside down because of a single phone call. They didn’t even bother to call you in and meet face-to-face.

“Cheers to this motherfucker.” You almost laugh at your own miserable state but suppress it and down the whole glass in one go. “Another one.” You tell the barista absently and he just sighs before starting to mix your drink.

“Tough times ?” He leans over the counter and slides your drink across the wooden surface.

You gratefully take the glass, words slurred between hiccups. “You have no fucking idea.” Your eyes travel down from his defined features gleaming under the neon light to the name tag hanging off his white dress shirt. It reads ‘Kim Woojin’. You shake your head to lure the weariness away while your right hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out some cash.

But before you can place them on the table, Woojin stops you abruptly. “Keep a hold of them. This last one’s on me.” He sighs defeatedly. Judging by how you look right now, he must have thought that you’re some petty college girl who just got into a fight with her boyfriend and now you have nowhere to stay for the night so essentially, he wants to be certain that you’ll have enough money for a cheapass motel of some sort.

Woojin pats his wet hands onto the black apron wrapped around his hip. “You’ll need them more than I do.” And you feel kinda bad for him, partially because this place doesn’t serve cheap vodka like most bars, and partially because you’re now a somewhat burden to the bartender. “Listen, no matter how much bad shit happens, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Besides, looks like that punk over there has already had his eyes on you the whole time.” He winks at you playfully before walking over to his coworker at the other side of the counter.

Speaking of the Devil… literally, not even sarcastically, a hollow presence seems to come into sight the moment you place your lips on the rim of the glass. You automatically reach your hand backwards only to find exactly what you’re looking for. “Do not touch me.” You deadpan, normally you would have felt bad by now upon your sudden discourtesy but unfortunately you’re not in the mood to be kind today. Hearing his melodic chuckle, you yank his hand away rather harshly, the coldness of his touch still chills you to the bone.

“Why so sad, bunny ?” He moves over to sit down on the nearby wooden bench, lips curled into a devilish smirk. Out of 7 billion people on this glorious plant, he chooses to pester a mundane mortal like you. Out of 365 days of the year, he chooses to visit you on the worst day of your life. Lee Minho is worse than Lucifer, it’s official.

Not enjoying your dull state, he cocks a brow at you. “You’re jobless because that stupid label doesn’t need you anymore. And now what ? Are you gonna be petty and depressed about it for the rest of your life ? Because if so, you’ll have a really shitty life Y/N. Do you really want your demons to come out and conquer the path ahead like it’s their fucking playground ?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Said a demon himself.”

“Then aren’t humans the closest things that we have to demons alive ?” Minho almost snickers at your suggestive remark, but he wouldn’t admit that it did sting a bit. After all, he is a demon, an epitome of a creature that’s second to Lucifer and his descendants generation, highly worshipped and exceptionally feared. And he’s low-key impressed that you didn’t throw yourself out the window when he stepped out of a wisp of black smoke the day you two first encountered.

You on the other hand didn’t know that he was too utterly soft for you to actually erase your memories. From then on, he would visit you occasionally at the godly hour when you’re close to kicking yourself in the process of composing or when you accidentally fucked up something. ‘Til this day, you still don’t know whether his concern for you is pure sincerity or he just finds your first world problems very amusing. You can’t tell either way.

Taking another sip of your drink, you groan slightly at the slight burn in your throat from the strong alcohol. “I mean ... fair point.” Your lips pursed unknowingly. “I don’t know Minho… I think I must have done something fucking messed up to be kicked out of the game like that. I wasn’t even thinking straight, you know, just packed my stuff and drove downtown. Ugh now I feel like shit.”

The demon in front of you glares at the glass of Martini coldly. He’s not letting you finish that shit after who knows how much alcohol that Woojin has permitted you to drink. “Do you think that overcoming cowardice is easy ? If it was that easy, everyone would go outside to get some fresh air, smell some flowers, meet new people; not fucking hide behind their screens and whatnot while talking trash about others like a bunch of scaredy-cats.” Minho spats, swiftly taking your drink away before you gulp it again.

Funny enough, you’re sitting at a bar with a demon, who’s obviously so done with your shit, but also the one that you have least expectations for listening and giving you advice. Just like how that one song goes.

Well, I shook hands with the devil

Down on the south side

And he bought us both a drink

With a pad and a pencil sat by his side

I said, "Tell me what you think".

Except that Minho didn’t buy you a drink, he actually stole yours.

“I may not know much about your world, but I’m confident that you’re very talented and passionate about what you’re doing. I saw how much effort you put into your work, staying up after midnight, heck, you barely got any sleep when you’re still working for that shitty company. I saw how much you care, Y/N and I don’t give two fucks about how much you’re doubting yourself because you’re so much more than that. I know you got this, you’re as stubborn as a human being can be, you’re not gonna let a tiny cut or bruised knee hold you back, are you ?”

You shake your head slightly, starting to acknowledge his words. You don’t get why you never noticed this but for a demon, Minho gives really good advice. In spite of his cocky personality because he thinks that he has every right to sass every human being out whenever wherever he wants to, his company always makes you feel fuzzy inside. It’s almost heartwarming but that makes no sense because demons are nowhere near ‘sweet and caring’.

A strange look flashes in his eyes when his eyes meet yours but before you can properly react, it vanishes. “You’re not drinking ever again… at least not for the time being.” He tells you off with his eyes before chugging the whole glass. Woah, good shit, he admits internally. And he’s mildly surprised that you’re taking this better than he’d thought. Other young producers would have been bawling their eyes out by now, not talking to a creature from the underworld.

“Alcohol helps me sleep.” You pout slightly, feeling the need to actually pay Woojin back when you get paid again. Oh wait… but you’re practically unemployed. “Insomnia is painstakingly arbitrary, like a needle that’s constantly pricking my spine whenever I’m trying to get comfy in bed. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight, thanks a lot.” You huff and lean over on the wooden counter, cheek pressed against your left upper arm.

Although Minho thinks that you look ridiculously cute right now with tinted pink cheeks and messy hair, he’s still not gonna buy you another drink. “They do say that insomnia is just another word for chit chatting with the demons during bedtime. And you’ve already wolfed down three fucking Vodka Martinis by the time I teleported here, aren’t you concerned about the stupid hangover tomorrow morning ? I swear to Lucifer— are you even listening to me right now ?”

Minho asks in disbelief when you stay unresponsive. The demon peels his eyes away from the empty glass and turns his head only to find you already fallen asleep, like a bear in hibernation. Your eyes are closed shut, chest heaving up and down rhythmically as you drift away from the cruel reality and into dreamland. Truth be told, you tend to fall asleep whenever he’s lecturing you a lot, and that gives him an excuse to stay for a little more than he should.

two.

Hangover hits you with a bang, almost knocks you out cold. But it’s not going to let you pass out, at least not before you start regretting the amount of alcohol that you chugged last night. Your eyes are still screwed shut, refusing to flutter open as your head throbs uncontrollably. Usually you would have been awake by now since you’re dumb enough to have white curtains instead of colored ones which helps the sunlight goes right through your apartment.

But something seems off today because there’s nothing that’s bothering your eyes. And you would definitely sleep in if it wasn’t for the strange feeling beneath your skin. Wait a second… A worrisome feeling runs down your spine, causing your eyes to open. You look down and check your clothes properly, everything stays the same except for… hold on, since when did you have a silky black sheet ?

“You woke up, finally. Be grateful that you’re on time for breakfast.” Someone’s voice booms in the distance when your eyes adjust themselves on the foreign surroundings. The studio apartment in front of you has your jaw dropped to the floor. Minimal yet modern pieces of furniture, a fully equipped kitchenette and an enormous window that gives you a breathtaking view of the whole city. This isn’t your apartment, is it ?

You groan loudly before pushing yourself off the bed and shiver slightly when your feet come in contact with the cold floor. “Tylenol’s on the table, you’re welcome.” Minho says nonchalantly as he has his back against you. You drag yourself to the dining table and pop the pills into your mouth before downing the glass of water beside them.

Yeah, no, you’re not drinking ever again.

“What are you doing ?” You ask him in a raspy tone and sniff your nose continuously at the aroma that’s filling the entirety of the apartment. Minho stays silent, deciding to fully concentrate on his current task. When you suddenly approach him from behind and place your head lazily on his shoulder, he almost drops the pot of freshly made soup. His chest swells a bit whenever you get close to his body, whether it is because it’s all in his head or just you having that kind of effect on him, he dares not to know.

“Tsk, you’re in my way, shoo.” He sneers, motioning for you to move so that he can transfer the pot over to the table in peace. Minho quickly scoops the thick liquid into a smaller bowl and gives you a look. You just stare at the hearty soup in complete awe, mouth slightly watered. No one has ever cooked for you before, much less a pot full of hangover soup. And you would be lying if you said that you’re not touched right now because you feel like it’s been forever since you’ve had homemade food.

Lee Minho never changes, still ever so caring.

He sits down at the table and pushes the bowl towards you. “Eat this and write me a 1000 words essay for instant feedback later.” Without a word, you automatically take a spoonful into your mouth, almost choking because of how hot it is. “Dude, it’s not 1945 anymore. If this goes on, you’re not gonna die from anything other than choking yourself.” He purses his lips at your eagerness, dabbing the excess soup away with a napkin on the corner of your lips.

After coughing furiously, you figure that your voice can finally function normally. “I didn’t know that you can cook, god this soup is everything.” In the next ten minutes, you finish inhaling the whole bowl as if you’ve walked through the desert, searching for an oasis for a week straight.

You’ve never let anyone cook for you other than your parents because one, none of your friends can cook, Changbin almost burnt your apartment down while Jisung came up with the idea to crack eggs with a knife; and two, you still remember a creepy story you once heard on a podcast vividly. Basically, there’s this girl who allowed her date to make her a meal on their very first encounter. She was hospitalized a week later, suspecting food poisoning but the test results came out as cannibalism. Yikes.

“Demons eat souls, not human flesh you paranoid bitch.” Minho reads your thoughts in a matter of seconds before taking his wooden spoon and smack you on the head. He looks unimpressed right now, he really does because he’s so over your delusional ass from binge-watching way too many investigation related shows at three a.m. “They’re not even that tasty, I’d rather have a boring sandwich.”

You scoff at him, rubbing the spot where he hit previously. “You can’t have mine then, it’s too dark for you.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” He almost grit, lips pressed into a thin line.

You stand up from the wooden stool and carry the dishes over to the newly renovated silver sink. “This is your place ?” You ask while turning on the faucet to spray water all over the dirty bowl. “It’s really nice, not gonna lie. Just not as nice as mine.”

When you’re having your back against him, Minho looks somewhat guilty. What would Hyunjin say if he found out that his roommate brought a mundane mortal home and even made her a bowl of hangover soup ? “For the time being, it is.” Whatever, Hyunjin’s staying in Italy for a good two weeks anyway. With a little bit more effort of ridding off your human scent and reorganize some stuff, Minho can pretty much pass without being suspected. “And what do you expect ? That I’m gonna leave you at the bar where sketchy people are getting wasted ? FYI, a demon doesn’t necessarily have to own a place where it’s just full of miserable souls swimming around. I take my beauty sleep very seriously, actually, all of us do. Even Satan.”

You carefully line the dishes up on the white rack next to the sink and sighs. “Beauty sleep ? I don’t know her.” When you turn around to face Minho, his lips are slightly curled upwards. “What, Minho ?” You ask, slightly annoyed.

He props his head onto his palms and cocks his head to the side. “What will you do now ? Going home is a no-no, obviously, and I believe that your coworkers/best friends are flipping the whole city upside down looking for you so your apartment isn’t really an option anymore. What’s next Y/N ?”

You think for a bit and hum. “Technically I’m running away ...so…why not make the best out of it ?” Then, something clicks and your eyes lit up in mischief. “I have an idea. It’s genius, a fucking genius idea.”

Minho immediately shakes his head furiously, looking like he’s encountering a panic attack. “Hate it.”

“You love it, don’t even lie to yourself.”

“It’s humiliating.”

You reach your hands inside your pocket to look for your keys. “Too late.” That’s when Minho knows that he doesn’t have a say in this.

three.

“You know what’s more fun than this ?” Minho supports himself on his knees as his breaths come in short, he feels like he’s gonna throw up. Being on a rollercoaster is most definitely scarier than attending a meeting with the Underworld Authority. He still doesn’t get why humans enjoy torturing themselves as a form of pure entertainment when they can do something like educate themselves by reading more books. “Hearing Lucifer play the fiddle, the Devil plays it damn good and a fun demon to hang around. He’s a real entertainer, trust me. Just hire a lawyer beforehand if you’re signing any contract with him.”

Minho’s making it sound like you’re planning on having ‘a thing’ with Lucifer meanwhile he practically follows you everywhere, watches your every move and you think that’s close enough for an example of the infamous slavery contract.

You run a hand through your hair and exhale in satisfaction. Since middle school, you haven’t really got a chance to come to amusement parks before. You’re far too caught up with the new tempo to life these days. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It ain’t my fault when you can’t teleport us both to somewhere further.” You almost laugh at his current state; disheveled hair, beads of sweat rolling down on his forehead, and he looks as pale as a ghost like he just saw one. Not like he’s terrified of ghosts or anything, actually, he might be scared of heights.

“You can’t teleport with me for fuck’s sake, even when I want to, you’ll end up disintegrating into dusts forever because your mortal body doesn’t have enough energy to recollect itself piece by piece.” Minho grits and shakes his head slightly to adjust the messy mop of hair on his head. He looks really cute, you think. Like a cat that’s trying to clean itself but can’t quite reach the itchy spot.

Upon your stubbornness because he knows too well that you just wanna see him being drowned in misery, Minho can’t help but roll his eyes. “And can you get any dumber ? You have a fucking Range Rover and a valid license. Technically, there’s no law against driving with a demon sitting in your vehicle. Ugh, I really should have left you at the bar last night.”

Right when you’re about to snap back at him with a witty comment, your phone buzzes loudly. And your eyes are about to jump out of their sockets the moment you open up the device. There are more than thirty missed calls, from your family and friends along with countless texts filled with nothing but concern. Changbin and Jisung both work under the same label as you so you assume that your family already knew everything. Now you feel guilty for running away so spontaneously because after all, you do have people who are always willing to be there for you.

[ 3:25pm ]

jisung | dude, I’m outside, open up

jisung | we know everything already

changbin | Y/N I’m bringing food over, you’re gonna binge-watch Netflix with us whether you want to or not

[ 3:27pm ]

jisung | uhm, hello ? Y/N ?

changbin | we’re breaking in if you’re not coming out, FYI

[ 3:35pm ]

jisung | you know I have the keys right, we’re gonna go in

changbin | this isn’t fucking funny

jisung | stop being such a stubborn piece of shit

[ 3:36pm ]

jisung | Y/N where the fuck are you ?!

changbin | …. look, just go home, your family are worried sick

[ 3:45pm ]

jisung | at least call me back ?

changbin | whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t do it

[ 9:23pm ]

chan | call me, I’m not going anywhere

Sensing your racing thoughts and seeing your tense posture, Minho swiftly takes your phone away from your hand and drops it into his pocket. The last thing he wants to see is you curled up into a ball and cry alone in the bathroom. “You’re so rude ? What kind of human are you, Y/N ? This is how you’re treating your date ?” He huffs, arms crossed in front of his chest like a little kid. But wait, a date ?

“This is not a date, Lee Minho, stop flirting with me.” You knit your brows together in confusion when his eyes twinkle. What’s with his demon nature being on steroids right now ? “Give me my phone.” You order.

“It’s a date when I say that it’s a date.” Minho reaches his hand outwards and links his fingers with yours. He quickly narrows the proximity between the two of you, backing you up against a wall. Utterly speechless, you find yourself dumbfoundedly melting into his touch. How can a demon possess such radiant warmth and tenderness ? Is it all just a facade or does he seem more human when he’s around you, you can’t tell either way. But what you do know is that when you relax a bit and let him hold your hand properly, it fits like a glove.

Minho cocks his head and cracks a smile. For the longest time, you’ve never noticed anyone looking at you with so much sincerity and affection. Maybe it’s all in your head after all. “What now ? You wanna watch a movie and put our hands into the popcorn at the same time to see what’ll happen or nah ?” You question, but it feels more like a question towards yourself.

Minho chuckles lightheartedly. “You’re so damn predictable Y/N.”

The rest of the night is absolutely magical. You feel like you’re acting in one of those One Direction’s music videos that’s not the typical ‘too good to be true’ kind. It really does remind you a lot of ‘Night Changes’ when Minho almost slips while holding onto you like a cat that just came in contact with water. Meaning, if it weren’t for your mediocre ice-skating skills way back from middle school, everything would have been exactly like the music video itself, in which you don’t mind. Because it’s Lee Minho, because his warm presence is something you never knew you needed in your life, because you always have this sense of comfort and happiness even when he starts cursing so loudly that your ears bleed. Demon or not, him being him is truly a blessing already.

Minho says. “I told you it’s humiliating.” He links your hand into his before stuffing it inside his pocket and drags you away from the front entrance. His hand’s got a lot warmer from staying inside his coat for so long and that makes him more human than ever. In which, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You freaking loved it, you can’t tell me otherwise.” You shake your head in denial.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes for the tenth time. “Let’s go home.”

four.

The next day, Minho somehow convinces you to drive back to your apartment for packing. Not for running away this time, he’s had enough of that shit. But for a trip back to your hometown instead ( you really should have gone deeper into his ‘let’s go home’ from last night ). The flight will take approximately ten hours or more so he only gives you two hours to pack before leaving. You basically spend half an hour picking out clothes from the messy walk-in closet and another ninety minutes to fit all of them into your suitcase while having a mental breakdown inside your head.

Because gosh, what would they think ?

You’ve scared them all shitless for the last two days and now you’re just gonna show up at the front door and go “Hey, I’m done being miserable now.” ? Sounds like a pretty solid plan but you doubt that your mom’s not planning to beat you up with her favorite broom that’s covered in nothing but dust and spiderwebs. Not to mention, your brother is definitely gonna grill your ass for causing such a commotion in your family. You can already imagine him waiting for you at the foyer with crossed arms, getting ready to lecture the heck out of you.

“Did you lose your favorite pair of shoes or something ?” Minho suddenly fades into your room, making you jump slightly. You’ve got used to his particular ways of intruding your personal space but the demon never seems to fail at surprising you.

You glare at him. “Look who’s being rude now.”

Minho purses his lips. “I didn’t know humans were notorious for being terribly indecisive when it comes to their belongings.” He almost sneers, leaning back against your bedroom wall.

“That’s not the problem.” Yeah, that’s not the problem because not every human takes pain in packing their stuff, it’s just a ‘you’ problem. “I’m coming home after scaring the shit out of my loved ones. I wouldn’t blame them if they hated me, it’s just that I don’t know what to say. What do I say in situations like this ? School didn’t teach me that.” A sigh escapes your lips as you kick your suitcase towards the door. And you’re kinda glad that Changbin and Jisung left your apartment last night, specifically when you called them at one a.m. because you were driving back with a demon right next to the shotgun window.

Minho politely grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open for you. Now that was a first. You almost smile at his out-of-nowhere kind gesture. Normally, he would have teleported to the front porch and complained about how you’re always taking so long. “Hurry up dumbass, we don’t have all day.” He raises his brow at your thoughts.

“Tsk, you’re not the one who’s driving.”

Minho can’t drive, sadly. Partially because he doesn’t see the point in moving around in a fucking box with four wheels when he’s fully capable of teleporting from one place to another within a snap of his fingers. And partially because he can’t afford erasing some cops’ memories because they might have some kind of innovative technology that’ll automatically record when things go down. Another reason is that he might or might not chug a whole bottle of whiskey while driving just because he feels like it.

“It’s cold, roll down the windows.” Minho reminds you when he enters your car because gosh, you always love to keep the temperature at a minimum of 71 degrees even when it’s freezing outside. His cold-hearted demon ass is quaking because another cold case remains another mystery for the entirety of humanity. “You’d be a badass demon, just saying. I’m surprised that you’re still alive at this point.” He shakes his head in disapproval and leans forward to turn off the AC. Not because he’s cold but he’s afraid that you’ll actually freeze to death before you two can even make it to the airport.

You kick the brake when the first red light occurs. “Just admit it, you’re cold. If anything, you can always hold my hand.”

“Okay,” He blinks numerous time at your reply. When did you become such a brat ? You’ve been acting like him these past few days and now he knows how it feels like. Woah, he does act like an old, bitchy cat. “Who taught you that ?”

You say, sparing him a slight smirk. “You know, only the best of the best.”

“Just don’t act like that in front of your parents, will you ?” Minho scrunches his nose at your particular way of having a civil conversation. “You did tell your parents right ?”

You nod. “Yeah, I told them that I was gonna go home sooner or later. I even texted Chan— OH MY GOD,” You let out the loudest gasp whilst trying to make sharp turn at an intersection.

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?” He gasps in disbelief at your sudden outburst, holding onto the side of your car for dear life.

“I can’t just bring a demon home !” You cry out. “You’d be considered safe if it weren’t for my brother. He just happens to be home for break. God, do you know how protective he is when it comes to bringing a guy home ?!” One time, you asked your desk mate from highschool to do a project at your house and Chan didn’t even hesitate to put him on trial. Luckily, they talked things out pretty smoothly and became friends later. Now Felix’s probably the only guy who wouldn’t be thrown off a cliff for breathing in the same room as you.

Minho stares at you weirdly for a full twenty seconds, and that makes you think he’s mentally judging you, which he totally is. “Wouldn’t me being your boyfriend the best option then ?”

“Are you dumb, or are you dumb ?” You haven’t dated anyone since elementary school and the relationship didn’t even last a week. And now out of nowhere you’re just gonna bring a ‘boyfriend’ home after running away ? That’s practically equivalent to adding fuel to the fire and you doubt that Minho’s comprehend the situation correctly. That’s it, you’re officially letting all hell break loose from here. “Yeah, go ahead and be my boyfriend if you wanna sleep with the fishes.”

He throws a look at you. “Is that a challenge ?”

“Better not dress like that in front of my family then.” You glance at his bold choice of a silky wine colored dress shirt along with leather pants and combat boots. Can’t have him walking around looking like a celebrity now, can you ? Although he does look good in them… so annoying.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

However, Minho’s outfit is most definitely the least of your worries.

five.

“Don’t tell me that you thought this through because-“

Minho says in a hushed tone. “I did think this through, baby. Loosen up a bit.” A devilish smirk blooms on his lips as he tucks some loose strands of hair behind your ear. He really needs to stop doing that because you’re already a blushing mess. He switched out his usual clothes and went for a comfortable hoodie with some jeans and sneakers. You hate him even more now because the demon easily pulled off the perfect boyfriend look.

Grimacing, you slap his hand away. “I’m not your fucking baby. And keep your hands to yourself, will you ?” And with that, you turn on your heels and make a beeline towards the kitchen where everyone’s busy setting up the table, leaving him in the living room alone.

Minho unconsciously plops himself onto the white faux leather couch and looks around in awe. Your house sort of symbolizes you because it’s minimal in the best way with a white color scheme and the occasional colorful tiny details on some of the decorative pieces. He starts pondering about how you never told him anything about your family in Australia. And although you grew up in a pretty well-off household, you didn’t flaunt your wealth. That makes you much more admirable in his eyes because not everyone can keep their mouth shut for more than two seconds when it comes to money.

Truth is, when your parents saw Minho for the very first time, they totally freaked out and drove to the nearest supermarket to shop for more ingredients. Now the house is filled with the aroma of a variety of grilled meat, vegetables, seafood and rice. He finally understands why you’re always homesick because gosh, who wouldn’t miss this kind of homemade food ? Minho props his head onto his hand as he watches your hard-working back figure from the living room, arranging the dishes onto the dining table with a smile on your face. And that stirs something inside him, he just doesn’t want to know it yet.

And Berry - your very much spoiled dog - is absolutely terrified by his dark presence. She keeps barking whenever he tries to pick her up, then ends up whimpering in the corner later. “Berry, don’t be rude ! He’s no stranger to us now.” Your mom nags while looking at Minho with an apologetic look. “Minho, honey, come join us. There’s no need to be so formal.” She offers him a seat at your family’s table warmly and he can already see where you got your smile from.

When he beams at her words and quickly takes the seat right beside you, you secretly roll your eyes at him. “I didn’t know dogs were supposed to be scared of demons. This is so obvious.” As you continue to complain about how he’s not acting naturally and all in a small tone, your hand automatically reaches for the chopsticks and picks out some lamb loin chops onto his plate. Minho simply brushes your words off, muttering a quick ‘thanks babe’ before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his action, immediately darting towards your family members else whom have already gathered around. But before you can react properly, your dad cuts you off. “How sweet of you two.” He shows that signature ‘dad smile’ which never fails to melt your heart. “Don’t they remind you of us when we were young, dear ?” He tells your mom.

“Certainly, I still remember how—“

“Uhm, so, how did you two meet ?” Your brother - Chan - who’s sitting across the table tries his very best not to gag and changes the topic before things get out of hand. Your dad used to tell you about his first encounter with your mom, their first date and etc.. as an alternative version for the regular bedtime stories session. Chan has known too much already.

“We met at a dinner through a mutual friend during her business trip to Paris. I knew she didn’t come from Europe so if I didn’t ask for her number then, we would never meet again.” Minho has already made up a story during the dreadfully long flight, now all he has to do is read outloud. Easy mode. “We kept in touch and eventually, I moved back to Korea to meet her and stayed with her since then.”

Chan hums as a response, he doesn’t hate Minho yet, you can tell. “Why didn’t you tell me about him, Y/N ? Dad was so close to talking to Felix’s parents about setting you two up.”

You gulp slightly to hide your nervousness. Under the table, Minho squeezes your hand in reassurance, and that gives you enough courage to explain slowly. “I didn’t want to freak you out with our long distance relationship. You might go nuts knowing that I’m dating a guy who I’ve only met once and he’s nearly six thousand miles away.” And setting you up with Felix ? You would never let that happen. Not in a million years. It makes you shiver just thinking about holding your highschool deskmate’s hand while walking down the aisle. “And dad, Lee Felix ? Really ? I would rather be single.”

Your dad laughs. “Come on, he’s a pretty decent boy. Too bad he’s traveling overseas right now or I might invite him over.”

“So, Minho,” Chan sips on his drink. “What do you do for a living ?” When you two arrived at the front door, he finds such little amount that Minho’s luggage holds a bit skeptical, as if your relationship and the idea of coming home happens overnight. And how he wears clothes pretty casual too for a first time meeting the parents but Chan knows better than to judge a book by its cover. However, he wants to make sure that your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t do drugs of any kind.

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m a dancer and owns a dance studio with my friend after when I flew back to Korea. I was in Paris for an internship over the summer.” You just sit there, blinking at him in disbelief like a total dumbass. Now you’re starting to wonder how it feels like to dance with the Devil. And if it weren’t for him kicking your leg under the table, your face would have given it away.

“Hmm, interesting.” Chan nods in acknowledgement. Well, at least he’s not unemployed… could have been worse.

Your mom advises thoughtfully as she walks over to the kitchen aisle and refills the plate of beef. “Oh, and be careful with the sauce for the lamb, it’s quite hot. If you’re not good with spicy food, just leave it out.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I can handle spicy stuff pretty well.. unlike someone over here.” Minho glances over at you. You immediately gut him with your elbow, earning a low grunt followed by a lighthearted chuckle of your family members.

“Minho can handle spicy things only because he’s getting old. His taste buds are losing their senses.” Your comment is partially true because he once told you that he’s been around for quite awhile. Definitely a lot older than the new batch of demons. He stopped counting at some point but ensured you that it’s somewhere from fifteen thousand and twenty thousand.

Minho looks at your sternly as the corners of his lips curled up. You’re already low-key mortified of what he’s going to say. “If you’re gonna act like a brat for the rest of the night, I’ll have to make sure that your legs will lose their sense by tomorrow morning.” Yep, there it is. You’re so used to his flirtatious remarks to the point that they don’t faze you anymore but having your family witness this is another level of torture. Minho’s definitely the type of guy ( if he were an actual human being ) who can’t be bothered about publicity and would straight up kiss you in the middle of the street.

And it doesn’t help either when Chan just doesn’t laugh loudly at your ‘boyfriend’s’ less than appropriate joke, he’s also on his side. Along with your parents. “I like you, not everyone can make her shut up like that.” Your brother nods in approval, clapping happily like a seal. Your parents even supply unhelpfully. “Try to keep it down and use protection, okay kids ?” Is this what betrayal feels like ?

You feel so adopted at that moment.

six.

“What the hell are you doing here ?” You try to groan as quietly as possible when you find Minho creeping up to you in the living room. “What part of ‘you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch, wake up before everyone else then come back to my room later on’ couldn’t you understand ?” A compromise was almost made, and he fucking blew it.

He chuckles and looks at you dreamily. For a second there, you really thought that he was sleep-walking. His brown hair is in a bird nest, accommodated by a pair of plaid pants and white t-shirt. This prick never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You’re glad that at least he doesn’t sleep shirtless like your brother. It gives you major nightmares since middle school just by waking him up every morning.

“I can’t sleep on a foreign bed..” Minho pouts. He really can’t, especially when you’re not around. And he’s not risking the chance of one of your folks or Chan accidentally. barging into the room when he’s doing some voodoo shit either.

You huff tiredly and walk over to him, grabbing the pillow from his arms before throwing it on the couch along with your blanket. Well, lucky him, your parents just happen to love ginormous couches and you’re far too lazy to drag him back to your bedroom. “Come here.” You order after plopping yourself onto the soft surface, letting out a prolonged yawn. Minho takes a good ten seconds to look at you again. He can’t help but keep staring like a creep when you’re in an oversized t-shirt with shorts underneath, exposing your bare thighs. You’re too cute for your own good.

You say when he remains silent. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He obediently nods, quickly settling down under the blanket. You two shuffle around for a bit until no one’s uncomfortable with less than a few inches away from each other. And when you decide to flip yourself over to face the wall, Minho gently pulls your back flush against his chest. Your eyes fly open at the sudden contact. “What-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing ?” You turn around and stare at him square in the eye.

Even in the dark, his eyes are gleaming with a demonic glint of silver. He beams innocently at your threatening tone. “Get comfortable ?”

“I mean…” You hesitate for a few seconds. Because you’d hate to admit but it does feel kinda nice having his warmth radiating off from underneath his thin shirt. It makes you feel fuzzy inside, more secure, more like you’re finally home. “If you don’t mind then…” You gather up every last bit of courage and energy to scoot yourself towards him, your arms snaking around on either side and hug his torso closer, your face buried in his chest.

And it takes every single strand of willpower for Minho to not jump and teleport to the nowhere. His breath starts to quicken when your body is practically attached to his. He didn’t expect this at all. It might be because you’re exhausted from the flight so you’re just far too sleepy to be conscious of your own actions. But anyhow, he’s not against the idea of having you in his arms like this. It makes him more relaxed knowing that you’re safe in his sound right here.

So Minho drapes one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place and the other underneath his head, straddling his legs with yours to keep them warm since you’re only wearing shorts. “Thanks for dinner, by the way.” He murmurs into your hair, taking in the scent of your familiar shampoo.

“If anything, you should be thanking my parents. They looked like they just saw Jesus when you first arrived.” You say and snuggle closer to him.

He chuckles, sending vibrations to the tip of your nose. “Admit it, your family’s in love with me. Even your brother isn’t half as bad as you made it sound. I think he would actually have nothing against our wedding.”

You make a face and lift your head upwards to look at him. “Dude, it’s just really good acting. Such a shame how the other Lee Minho gets the title of an actor when you’re over here stuck with being a demon.” If you’re being completely honest, you’re kinda scared right now. Because one, all of this is just a big play and when you fly back to Korea, it may seem like nothing has ever happened. And two, if this goes way too far, your family might disown you for ‘breaking up’ with Minho when he wasn’t even your boyfriend in the first place.

“Actually, I’d be glad to take the title of being your boyfriend instead.” And the thumping force inside your chest picks up the pace as you can feel your cheeks heating up. His simple acknowledgement makes you flustered, absolutely moonstruck. No one has ever said that to you before, well, partially because you’re super single but you can’t help but let those words affect you tremendously. “Where do you want to go for our honey—“

“We’re not getting married.” You hiss at him like a snake.

Minho draws a cat-like grin on his lips, mischief glistening in his eyes. “Nuh uh too late. I’ll consider you as my own from now on, Mrs. Lee.”

You reply flatly. “You talk a lot for a demon who treasures their beauty sleep. You’re not vampires and you don’t watch people in their sleep, do you ?” The only person Minho watches in their sleep is you, but he’s not saying that to your face. And that was one time, one-time.

Upon his silence, you raise a brow. “Wait, you do ?”

“Who I watch in their sleep is none of your business, Y/N.” He replies with flaming cheeks.

You giggle. “I knew it, you’re related to Edward Cullen.”

“No, not that bitch Edward !” Minho makes a disgusted face but can’t contain his laughter for long. God, what are you doing to him ?

seven.

You wake up with a cold sensation wrapping around your feet. With body shivering slightly, you instinctively nuzzle your head into the nearest heat source, retreating your legs deeper into the fuzzy blanket. Groaning, you shake your head slightly to shake the weariness away. This is why you hate long flights with a passion because you’re never not gonna be jet lagged for the rest of your life.

“Why do you always wake up so fucking early ?” Your eyes shoot open at the hoarse voice only to find Minho squinting his eyes at you sleepily with his bedhead and wrinkled shirt. He looks so human right now you can care less about the fact that you’ve just spent an entire night on your parents’ favorite couch with a creature from Hell. Definitely boyfriend material.

“My feet get cold easily in the morning, and that wakes me up.” You pout and hold his torso closer. Minho tries his best not to flinch when your arm brushes over his as the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. And you’re glad that he doesn’t snore and isn’t a messy sleeper. Just sleeps like the death, which makes sense. Unlike your best friend, Seo Changbin who sleeps like a fucking starfish with his four limbs wide open. Give him a king sized bed and he can still manage to have his blanket on the floor by the time the sun rises.

Minho runs a hand through the messy bird nest on his head which takes the breath right out of your lungs because it looks like those too good to be true shampoo commercials with people who have shiny, luminous hair. But those models spend hours on a wooden stool for their stylists to make it look like they didn’t even try but they’re not even close to Minho’s league because he needs none of that in order to look attractive.

Finally, he sighs. “Go back to sleep then.” He pulls the blanket down slightly to cover your feet completely and hugs your waist closer so that your upper body won’t be bothered by the morning breeze. “I’ll make breakfast later, what do your folks usually prefer ?”

You look up at him in awe. No one has ever offered such a sweet thing to do when they come over to your house. Not even your relatives ‘cause they’re far too busy bombarding you and Chan with questions about your personal lives rather than helping your parents out with washing the dishes after a meal is done. Minho might look cold and all but it’s all really just the typical demon facade that he’s trying to maintain. He’s actually really caring and thoughtful, you’ve found more sense of morality whenever you look into his eyes deeply than when you look at other people.

“Lee Minho is making breakfast for my family ? What’s this ? Is World War III coming ? Is the world hanging on the verge of ending ?”

He shakes his head at you in disapproval. “I just wanted to do something nice in return to last night’s dinner. Your parents really didn’t have to go all the way to the supermarket just because of me.” And he secretly enjoys seeing you munching happily on the food that he makes. How your cheeks are bunched up when you accidentally take too much of a bite, how your eyes light up in joy when you melt into the taste. He loves you for being you, for going all out without trying to act like a lady, eating quietly and shit.

You think for a bit. “They all have a big appetite, plus they’re not picky so anything will do. Just try to work with things in the fridge that you find promising ?”

“Oh okay.” Minho shrugs before leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep please, I beg. Jetlag is killing me, or else I’m gonna have to kiss you again and again until you get tired of me and doze off.”

With coral cheeks, you muster the calmest voice possible. “Is that a challenge ? Because if so, kiss me before I kick you off the couch.”

He smirks at you. “If you’re willing to.” As he leans in closer, you can feel your confidence level decreasing dramatically, your heart feels like it’s running on a treadmill endless. You’re no longer brave enough to keep eye contact so your eyes are screwed shut at some point, waiting for his lips to collide with yours.

Suddenly his phone buzzes obnoxiously on the coffee table, making you two pull away in a hassle. “Sorry, I gotta take this.” Minho says sheepishly as he sits straight up and grabs his phone. The apologetic smile on his face drops when he sees the caller’s ID. He swipes right to answer, placing the cool device close to his ear. “Yeah, Hyunjin ?”

“Hyung, you’re going too far. Come back.”

eight.

It’s been a few weeks later, and your family can’t stop gushing over how lucky you are to find a boyfriend like Minho.

You start getting daily voice messages from your parents, asking if you’re taking good care of yourself, if Minho’s treating you well, if anything’s been hard lately. Oh boy you sure regret running away before because your parents keep checking up on you every two hours. If not for Minho, they would have made you move back to Australia for who knows how long.

With that being said, Minho is obligated to move in with you. But you’re not complaining at all because cuddling with him is naturally carved into you like second nature. Even Jisung and Changbin didn’t bother to question why you start to have two mugs by the sink, two pairs of slippers by the shoe rack and a foreign smell of cologne all over your couch. They’ve probably figured it out that you got yourself ‘a man’ since the night that you came back to the apartment in such a rush.

And from then, you wonder why you’ve never considered having a roommate before. There are always really shitty excuses inside your head like : what if your roommate has some kind of questionable habits, what if they’re secretly a part of some mafia organization ? But really, it’s because he’s Lee Minho, because you’re too utterly soft for him. Nonetheless, you did learn a few things from spending more time with him rather than locking yourself up with work.

The feeling of having someone waiting for you to come home is beyond heartwarming. And you’ve also learnt to use your time and effort on someone else rather than just yourself. It actually feels really nice because his presence brings more than just a sense of comfort and happiness to you. There’s something about him that’s irreplaceable. As if he’s your soulmate, that one person who adores you to the moon and back, who’s willing to bring out the best in you and deal with you when you’re at your lowest.

But the whole concept of soulmate is still debatable because life isn’t just peaches and cream, it’s roses and thorns.

“Something’s bothering you, tell me.” You make the sharpest of a turn to the left to snap Minho back to reality. You don’t like when people keep ignoring your questions.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He answers flatly. Obviously, he’s lying because he’s only spoken to you seven words maximum since you started the car. “Follow-the-GPS-to-reach-the-destination.” That’s it. No more. No less.

You scoff. “Something’s clearly bothering you. I don’t need your mind reading crap to know what you’re thinking.” You’re trying so hard not to take an argument out on him, especially when you’re driving to somewhere you don’t even know. But Minho’s not dumb, you bet he already had everything planned out on his mind. There’s a reason for everything, so you don’t have anything against driving in the middle of the night, just because he insisted you to.

He voices. “I’m thinking about surprising you.” And when you glance at him sideways, there are those specks of playfulness glistening in his midnight orbs again. But there’s also something else, and it’s unfathomable. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” He reassures you with a somewhat forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, carefully pulling over not to hit the tree by the road.

Minho jumps out of the vehicle first. “We’re here.” You roll your eyes at him playfully and follows not long after.

And the sight in front of your eyes leaves you speechless. Even in the eerie darkness, your eyes can still make out the vibrant display of multicolored flowers all over the green field. The sweet scent soon fills your nostrils, making your eyes go wide in awe. “Come on, over here.” Minho links his hand into yours and drags you along the dirt road, trying his best not to step on any flower. Once he stops, you realize that you’re in the middle of the field, surrounded by the most surreal things that you thought could only happen in fairy tales.

The sky represents a black curtain being draped over your entire universe, with milky swirls and glitter specks dancing elegantly in various patterns. It’s transcendental, you think. How the sight have all of your worries and concerns disintegrate into dust, how you’re here with him as time seems to stop when he looks at you with nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. You’re hanging by this moment, waiting for him to say something. “Do you like it ?” He breathes out ever so softly.

You nod repeatedly. “I love it, thank you, thank you, thank you !” Mixed emotions burst inside your chest and you unconsciously fall into his embrace as if you were meant to be there all along. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, letting his more than familiar cologne hug you like a warm blanket.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but snaps it close later on. The bitterness inside is making him nauseous, burying every last bit of courage to the bottom pit of his stomach. He has so much, so much to tell you yet nothing comes out right.

He’s the first to pull away. “I’m glad that you like it, Y/N.” Take good care of yourself, okay ?

“Of course I like it, it’s everything !” You smile, not noticing how there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes when it’s so dark outside.

Minho tries to hide the shakiness in his voice. “Close your eyes, the stars will grant a wish to whoever has enough sincerity and purity.” You’ll be fine without me, will you ?

“A wish ? I guess…” You close your eyes, tightening the grip on Minho’s hands, accidentally ignoring how his hands are getting colder, and colder by the second. “There, I made a wish !” Your eyes fly open as you giggle happily. “We should come here more often, don’t you think ? Promise me that we’ll be here every week.” You extend your pinky finger outwards.

Minho nods, intertwining his finger with yours. “I promise.” I’ll miss you.

As a silent tear rolls down on his cheek, his orbs flash a shade of crimson red.

eight & ½.

Changbin cries out dramatically. “Y/N, a little help over here ? Hello ?” He’s struggling real hard to open the door while carrying the groceries all by himself.

You quickly snap out of it, running to help him with the whopping five paper bags in his arms. “Sorry, I just thought that I saw someone who looked familiar.”

He cranes his neck tiredly after stuffing the bags into the backseats of his Tesla. “Could be some guy who reached out to you before. You know how the industry works, if they want you, they gotta have you. So be careful, creepy people are literally everywhere.”

“Right..” You trail off and jump into his car, shutting the door close. Even when Changbin twists his key and drives away from the supermarket, you can’t help but turn your head constantly to see if there’s anyone. On the way out, you made eye contact with someone, who has an odd ray of red in their eyes. Normally, things like this would have crept you out but you found an unexpected sense of familiarity in those eyes. Perhaps you’ve met before ?

But why… red ?

“Hey Bin…” You start. “Do you believe in soulmates ?”

Changbin snickers. “What the fuck is wrong with you today ? Are you sick ?”

You wave your hand to brush the topic off. “You’re right, I stayed up until three last night, can really use a nap right now.” Maybe everything’s in your head after all.

But little did you know, from across the streets, the silhouette of a demon who once shared unforgettable memories with you is embedded onto the cold brick wall. Minho has his arms crossed in front of his chest, mind blank, eyes empty. He only dares to watch in silence as your friend drives you away, fighting back the voices inside his head that are yelling at him to just hug you, to see your smile, to hear your laughter.

Little did you know, he longs to be by your side again. Minho tried to force himself into hating you but he can’t. He can’t because you taught him how to love, because you mean far more than just the universe to him, because blaming hurts more than trying to forget you. But before things get out of hand, he managed to get a hold of himself and decided to cut ties with you for good.

This is for the better, he keeps telling himself.

People say that there’s no sorrow in the demons. Since joy and sorrow are like fire and ice, there’s no possibilities for them to exist in the same subject. Demons are believed to find joy in those who despise God’s commands, and rejoice over this kind of sinister power. Therefore, there’s no sorrow in the demons. Meaning, demons can never feel heartbroken because they simply don’t have one.

If so, then why can Minho hear something shattering into pieces inside his chest ? That’s because he’s experienced something other demons aren’t supposed to. He finally knows what it feels like to actually be ‘someone’ to someone, what it feels like to think of them all day and smile stupidly about it.

And that’s something other demons are fortunate enough to not get themselves into. Because they wouldn’t want to know how painful it is to not being able to be with their loved one. Demons attract other demons by their scents so if a demon fell in love with a mortal being, that one human will live in constant danger.

Not to mention, it’s going against God to fall in love with someone who’s so different, so out of reach. And Minho could never risk losing you to anything but he can risk it all to protect you.

“I just feel so fucking broken.”

“You’ll be fine.” Hyunjin gently places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But it is love after all… what can he do ?

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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Hdbdjsvsu i grinned like an idiot at ur response lolol. Like that made me so happy (*/ω＼) Also I very much agree that having someone fiesty instead of mellow is definitely a fun change. She was actually the first grumpy/fiesty main character i created and im IN LOVE with it lolol

Ah, yes, Rigby and Saeyoung having a bit of Genius Rivalry. Luckily for them, they don't overlap entirely. He seems to gear more towards robotics and whatnot, which she does not. She likes making gadgets and weapons and techy suits and some seriously sci-fi stuff lmao.

Oh, she's also a hacker, a very good one at that, although it's not her primary job so I'd say she's probably just below Saeyoung in skill level.

Here's the first thing I didn't mention, the thing that caused her parents to keep her home most of the time: She has powers. It's not too much of a rarity in her universe, but its still the minority of the population, and it's best to keep the fact that you have powers on the down-low as much as possible. Her powers are reactive adaptation, coupled with enhanced strength. Her primary active adaptation is "steel" appendages such as wings. The steel-like organic material is her go-to.

Ever since she was 14, almost 15, she's been a vigilante hero, with her best (and first) friend Ryder, whom she met that same year. He also has powers, and eventually she revealed her powers to him because he was already doing the superhero stuff. And she was bored. Wanted in on it.

Deviant, she goes by, and it's where her cocky side comes out. Overconfident, cocky, witty, along with her usual demeanor. She loves pissing off her opponent, just like she loves pissing off her cousin, who takes care of her at that age.

Ah, right. Her parents, who are actually v good people and helped train her the best they could even without powers of their own, disappeared when she was 12. First her dad, called into work at HQ in Europe (they live in the U.S.), then her mom a month later, same deal, cos her dad couldnt handle the task on his own.

And then another month, and all communications stopped.

From there, it was practically Rigby's life goal to find them. She refused to believe they were dead. Long story short, they had no choice but to disappear, but were finally able to reunite when she was almost 19 years old. 7 years. She was just glad to have her parents back.

Nevertheless, though she would never admit it, she definitely has separation anxiety, and when she was still under her cousin's care, whenever he would leave on a business trip, it showed, though she tries to suppress it.

With her parents, came 2 new family members to be adopted into the family: Vasyl (m12) and Amara (f16). The reasoning behind this leads into an explanation on Rigby's work (and her parents' work), so I'll save that for later.

Rigby was a little upset at first, and it took her a while to get comfortable with not only the new siblings, but her parents themselves. However, she got close to Vasyl pretty fast, and now, at 22, she would put her life on the line without hesitation if it meant his safety and survival. She's stated that he's her favourite person lol.

Okay, one last thing: the whole fam is multilingual. Russian is her parents' first language, but her mom is like 1/4 american. Rigby considers both english and russian her first language, but would say english if she had to choose. By 22, she knows i think... 20 languages? Her powers affect the mind too -- quick learning and such (i did my research lol). So she knows so many damn languages lol.

[417]

(Sorry if this was a lot at once ^^")

You immediately sold it to me the minute that you said superpowers. You said wings and I said I'm simping.

She also seems too smart for her own good and sometimes that can be a tedious thing as well as a bad thing but it doesn't seem like it's that bad for her in that regard anyway. It sounds like she has a little too much fun with what she's doing out there. But, who hasn't been a little cocky and in over their head? Especially when you know you're smart and can whoop some ass like that? You shouldn't expect less from a teenager, I mean we've all read the comics, we know how that works.

I definitely find that character arc intriguing so it would be fun to see her pushed to her limits and how long she can hold up that feisty and brazen mask. Because, I know that we all can appreciate a character that's willing to go absolutely Wild, it can also be interesting to see how far they can be pushed before they absolutely lose it for real. That is to say, you don't really know someone until you know... circumstances put your back to the wall.

It's probably a good thing that she and Seven have different fixations because I imagine if they were working on the same thing that they would probably go mad with power. Because when you stick two people that know too much of the same thing together, well, neither can really figure out when to call it quits so they just keep working until they've invented, I don't know, time travel. When in reality they were supposed to be working on making popcorn or something. Nerds are impossibly incorrigible.

Don't even ask how they did it, they don't even know themselves.

#417 anon #ask #oc #cmc #mod kait

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zd772 · 4 years ago

Text

Expert Interview with Professor Piero Garofalo

The following contains edited excerpts from an hour-long interview conducted with Professor Piero Garofalo from the UNH Italian Studies department. Professor Garofalo is a professor of Italian Studies and the coordinator of the Italian Studies program. He has recently taught linguistics and film studies for the Italian department. When he came to UNH there was no Italian program so he was essentially hired to introduce Italian to UNH. He developed many of the Italian courses that UNH offers, started the department’s study abroad program, and worked with others to get the Italian minor and major developed. His research experience, which can be explored in more detail here, includes explorations of culture and cultural production within certain periods, fascism’s relation to this, and internal exile in fascism, to name a few areas of interest. For my interview, we discussed fascism, populism, and media.

Disclaimer: The content is edited for length and clarity, but the meanings behind the answers are not altered. The full transcription can be accessed here for more information. The format shares highlights of quotes or responses on specific topics which demonstrate my understandings as well as Professor Garofalo’s expertise.

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Interviewer: Zoe Dawson (ZD), senior Communication student at UNH

Interviewee: Piero Garofalo (PG), professor and program coordinator for Italian Studies Department at UNH

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On the topic of fascism in relation to our course (p. 2):

ZD: So I’ve looked into your research on the COLA website and I saw that you had some research focus on fascism (PG: Mhm) so first I thought I would share a few of the things that I’ve learned in this class so maybe we can have a conversation about that or hear about your research... So, in a reading by Federico Finchelstein from my class, we read that “Fascism was founded in Italy in 1919 but the politics it represented appeared simultaneously across the world.” (PG: *nods head*) And then, also he talked about Mussolini’s version of [fascism] being that “the creature was bigger than the creator,” which I thought was interesting. And so those two points, I thought, were significant in relation to Italy.

PG: Yeah. So, I think Federico Fincehlsltein is, I think he’s Argentinean (ZD: *nods head*). I’ve read several of his studies and he does a really good job of taking concepts like fascism, in particular, fascism and populism, and globalizing them beyond the usual suspects. So instead of just looking at fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, he’ll look at Latin America and different movements to kind of give a broader perspective.

I definitely agree about what he said about fascism in Italy in the sense of, the term itself obviously comes from Italian. Preceding Mussolini there was a movement in Sicily called The Fasci Siciliani. Fascia really is just a bundle. It’s a bundle of rods or sticks. So, that movement was really a workers’ union, almost like a unionized attempt to form a union against these large landowners and that movement was suppressed. The government intervened and they were striking and twenty-two of them, twenty-two of the strikers, were killed. And that’s a very different type of movement than what Mussolini was doing (ZD: Mhm), even though the origin of the term is the same. Yeah, so we have this movement in Italy that begins in 1919 and takes on the name of fascism, and that term kind of ends up being, you know, good PR (ZD: *laughs*) and has a lot of success internationally and becomes sort of the default term, kind of becomes overused today right? We talk about ‘fascist, anti-fascist’ without contextualizing the terms.

And yeah, I think it also, the second part that you mentioned, I think it definitely did grow much beyond what he was trying to do or thought of. And so, when we talk about fascism, even within that historical context, we need to be careful about what we mean because Italian fascism is different from Spanish fascism from the 1930s, from German Nazism, and so on and so forth, but even though they share many commonalities and a similar sort of source within each of those societies.

On the connections between fascism and populism (pp. 6-9):

ZD: … I have a few questions related to what I’m about to say, but also in our class we’ve learned about the idea of modern populism as being a post-fascist idea, and also being like a reformation of fascism in post-war contexts so what are your thoughts in relation to Italy since fascism was so prominent?

PG: Yeah I understand the definition, but I don’t know that I necessarily agree with that definition because there are many movements that I would describe as populist which I would not describe as fascist (ZD: *nods head*). If populism is also sort of this mass reaction to the elite, we hear that rhetoric a lot. We talk about Trumpism as a form of populism, you hear that rhetoric against the liberal elites and that sort of thing. You know, there was the Occupy Wall Street movement, which was the 99% against the 1%. You could even think about Black Lives Matter movement, as a grassroots movement or people reacting against the elite, the people in power, the people who’ve created a system that doesn’t allow them to flourish.

In Italy, we have two movements, in your blog you talk about them both. We have the League, the Northern Leagues which now have expanded beyond just being the Northern Leagues, that are a populist movement that I would align to some degree more closely with that idea of fascism, of neofascism. But then we have the 5 Star Movement which describes itself as a movement whose major tenets are the environment, sustainability, access to democracy- everyone’s supposed to have a vote and have access to a vote and participate in the vote, you’re not supposed to be excluded, which many of its programs we would associate more with the political left…

So, a direct line between neofascism, or fascism, and populism I don’t necessarily see. Lots of different movements which have certain characteristics that might fall into these different categories. And it’s become such a broad term that it’s begun to also lose its significance. The word itself as you know, the Latin word populus or in Italian popoli, it’s the people and having that word have a negative meaning. I don’t think it co-opted that way either, I like to think that when people are reacting to an injustice that they see that involves fundamental changes in society, that can still be a positive and not fall under the same rubric as Hilter and Mussolini.

ZD: … That made sense. In our class, I think in the same Finchelstein reading, he talks about how the word ‘fascist’ and the word ‘populist’, they’re both sometimes used interchangeably and also used to describe something as evil or bad even when that really isn’t the case with historical definitions, so what you said made sense with that.

Then also relating to fascism, what do you think the remnants of fascism look like in Italy? I know you mentioned the League, which is far-right.

PG: There is a party that’s more in tune with fascism than the League even. Its new name is Brothers of Italy, FDI- Fratelli d'Italia, and that’s like Le Pen’s party in France. So that’s sort of a far-right party that really does see itself as the heir of fascism. Its earlier iteration, Mussolini’s granddaughter, Alessandra Mussolini, was a part of it. After World War II, the fascist party was nonexistent, but this party formed called MSI- Movimento Sociali Italiano, Italian Socialist Movement which was really a fascist party, although the die-hards stuck with that it was always a very tiny party.

The other big difference, of course, between Italy and the United States is that Italy has many political parties and it’s easier than here to find a party that conforms more closely with your ideas. Here you kind of have a choice between two parties, and you might agree with everything your party says, but chances are there are divisions. Some things you agree with, some things less. There the parties are much more splintered, there’s an issue that they don’t agree on, they kind of split and go on in different directions.

So this party then became Alleanza Nazionale, or AN- National Alliance, and in that iteration in the 1990s it kind of rehabilitated its image as being professional, not talking about fascism the way it was spoken about in the past but trying just to appear like a legitimate party. They didn’t use a lot of rhetoric, it wasn’t populist in that sense, it wasn’t trying to appeal to people’s emotions and whatnot. It was trying to just rehabilitate fascism in a way that made it seem innocuous and the latest iteration of that party because different moments or scandals or events have led to the elimination of Italian parties… So the latest iteration is this one, Fratelli d'Italia, Brothers of Italy, which is the real right-wing party. The League, the Northern Leagues now there are various Leagues so we just call it the Leagues, shares many commonalities with right-wing parties. In particular its very strong stance against immigration and its xenophobia toward immigrants. In other aspects, it’s anti-European but it’s anti-Italian as well. These parties go back to origins of the modern Italian state where they never see that they’re Italian, that they’re from Venice or Milan. They see their local identity which is what survived for thousands of years. They never managed to bring the puzzle of Italy together to form a unified country.

So, they’re very much rooted in the local; in the local traditions, in the local ideas, the local language, and that’s why they’re anti-immigration. They’re anti-anyone who isn’t them. They’re anti-Southern Italian. They’re anti-everything it seems. They wanna secede, they want total autonomy. That’s why they’re anti-European because European identity kind of erases or limits your national identity… And that’s what we see in Italy, in particular, is that populism frequently takes on that League form of local identity. You have a League in Sicily, it’s the same thing, ‘We wanna be independent.’ So it takes on these kinds of xenophobic and philo-fascist attitudes in many activities. It also sees the central government as the enemy because it conquered Sicily literally. So in Italy populism, with the exception of the 5 Star which is this very different kind of movement, the populist movements tend to be very focused on the local identity and reasserting a local identity that the Italian nation has tried to wash over, eliminate, white-wash for the past 150 years since unification.

ZD: Yeah, I think that’s interesting what you were talking about with the regional specificity kind of. I watched a documentary and one of the politicians was harping on ‘Italians First’ but based on what you said it sounds more like specific to their region, their people first. (PG: Yeah.)

On how populism has affected the political climate in Italy (pp. 9-10):

ZD: … how would you say populism has affected Italy’s overall political climate?

PG: Well it’s definitely created more chaos. The Italian political system was intentionally designed to be weak. After fascism, the Constitution is intentionally designed to not let political parties accomplish very much unless there’s a lot of support for what they’re doing. The moment that there’s opposition to what they’re doing they get kicked out of power. So it always seems like Italian governments don’t last very long, but that’s built into this system…

The populist parties have made that more difficult because there’s less room to compromise. They have very strong stances on big issues that used to be, despite differences, pretty much agreed on… So you’ve lost room to really coalesce, to form a coalition with other parties with enough common ground where you can really accomplish stuff. That’s always been a challenge but not really a big one because we see historically these same parties really ended up forming the next government only with a slight change and then they got the legislation that they wanted to do until they hit the next crisis. There was a lot of predictability. You weren’t worried that the country was gonna go in a completely different political or economic or social direction. Now it’s a lot harder to predict, there’s a lot less certainty and it’s not clear who the opposition is either. The center-left parties are also reforming themselves and fractured and also have less coherent identities so it makes things much more messy and tricky now.

ZD: Yeah that makes sense and I’ve definitely seen that. And it seems really relevant to right now also. I researched a little about Giuseppe Conte’s coalition and that really led to him having to resign.

PG: Yeah, and it was one of the center-left parties that withdrew. They had like 1% of the vote, but that 1% was all they needed, and all of the sudden he didn’t have a majority and he was out. And it was a gamble because they could’ve gone to elections or Salvini could’ve come into power or something and now we have this technocratic government and we’ll see if it lasts until the elections next year.

On the populist presence in the media (pp. 12-13):

ZD: … one of the people I focused a lot on was Matteo Salvini and his use of Facebook and Facebook live to kind of “expose” people like I’ve seen him shouting at immigrant families and things like that. And it’s very blunt and in your face (PG: *nods head* Right) which is effective for his followers which I think is interesting. So if you follow any Italian media and government, how would you say the populist presence is?

PG: I think it’s expressed the most through social media. In Italy, the media for many years was dominated by the RAI, sort of the BBC of Italy. So you had these sort of government-owned and so anything they talked about they’d have to present all the different parties’ sides, everyone had to have equal time on television running for office, this sort of thing. That changed in the 1980s when Silvio Berlusconi came into power, so it’s part of the Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher movement, this neoconservatism of the 1980s… In the last decade especially, social media has become the center ground for promoting your ideas, promoting your campaigns, and being media savvy is extremely important for, especially populist politicians, but modern politicians in general.

One of the things about Donald Trump was this constant use of Twitter, right? Always keeping himself in the news. Obama was considered incredibly media savvy, but he didn’t do things the way that Donald Trump does and Joe Biden is not media savvy in that same way at all. But as you pointed out with Salvini, they’ll do lots of events which they’ll stream live through Facebook. They keep issues in your face. If it’s print media or the 6 o’clock news, it dies after a day or two or three, but they don’t let it die. They keep it in your face, in your feed constantly. So they’re very active on Twitter and other platforms, though certainly, Facebook is the most dominant one. They use it to connect to people and to keep them enraged in a sense, you know? To keep you emotionally invested so that you’re out there voting, promoting that point of view, and you’re keeping them on everyone’s mind. PR is half the battle, so if it’s always out there they must be important, they must have something to say.

ZD: Yeah I was gonna ask how the forms of media play into social and cultural grievances, but that really seems like the answer (PG: Yeah). That it’s so in your face that you can’t really avoid it. I was gonna ask also what populism’s role is in inflating that, but that also seems to be kind of the answer.

PG: Yeah I think that it doesn’t matter what the issue is. Whether it’s a boat capsizing in the Mediterranean or a boat being stopped, or some sort of government scandal- I can’t think of a good one that’s happened recently, but anything is an excuse for outrage that allows them to step forward and say, ‘Look at what they’re doing, we need to stop this’ even if they’re doing the same thing…

---

Thank you again to Professor Piero Garofalo for taking the time to be interviewed and giving very insightful answers!

---

Finchelstein, F. (2017). From Fascism to Populism in History. Oakland, California: University of California Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctvpb3vkk

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macklives · 5 years ago

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session 81 end

wow, okay, first things first

AC!!!!!

shes so fucking cute holy shit i love her so much i dont even know where to begin??

i mean i guess its because im so used to troll snark and the way they just? banter constantly? seeing someone who is a literal ray of sunshine is so refreshing and wholesome and pure. god she’s great. shes a cat, she knows her stuff. she’s strong and theres also this guys???? who shes scared of?? and tells her what to do??? yeah no, idk who it is but let her make her own decisions lol

maybe its just over exaggeration or whatnot, and hes not bad but first impressions do a lot to me and right now the only thing i know about this guy is that AC needs his approval for everything. i guess ill see where that takes us. hopefully nowhere bad. but AC seems like she can take care of herself and knows how to be a good decent troll and i love her for that. wow it literally took me one dialogue to like her. damn, that was fast. jesus.

you know who else is great?

terezi.

yeah i know right. and that whole trial thing, which yeah i guess half the time i was confused by what the fuck is going on since i still cant grasp the idea of how alternia works, but i enjoyed myself with lemonsnout and how terezi roleplays and how much she gets into it. seeing a character that passionate about something is so sweet and nice.

god this was just a nice overall session

which i say, while i completely forgot about the banter TA and karkat got into

right, that happened. oh my god. they both literally stomped all over each other, dissed one another, still made up in the end because apparently thats their friendship and i guess it just works like that. depends on the friends you have, i guess.

its funny though, not gonna lie

and karkat as of now is just being a prick and honestly?

like more than usual, which i guess is weird to say but i mean from present time to beginning of hivebent karkat. not that its uncommon for him to be a prick, he is, but seeing him go through the non-linear pattern with john is mmmmh interesting to say the least. though we havent seen his first trolling, just him constantly going “oh god what did i say, i was dumb” u know, not in those words but thats basically what he means.

ooh im gonna analyze, i feel like analyzing right now my fingers have already typed so much as it is MIGHT AS WELL

and our candidate will be *drum rollll* karkat wow predictable (its below the cut because this is literally irrelevant now to the session)

okay, lets lay out the shit we have already. as i said before, the way he talks presently to john (meaning in the future) is so different than how he speaks to everyone now. of course the “i hate the world” personality is still there, and hes still just regular karkat, but karkat talking with john is patient to some extent and tells him what he needs to know for the game, lowkey kinda chills out once they started talking about movies or growing up as huh, didnt he say larvae or smth?

okay that whole grub thing makes sense now as i just wrote that but i am still confused as to what the FUCK that is implying because i dont think it crossed my mind this much, im repressing it for now until it comes up later.

anyways, back to what i was saying. he was so DIFFERENT than the way he’s acting now which is bitch and moan and like? stfu karkat lmfao. i mean, its not THAT big of a difference in character, because i know he’s still his grumpy old self, and theres a lot of potential.. for growth? not sure if we’ll get it but i like to assume we will get character growth from these characters with fucking 8000 pages talking about them. but a story needs that growth and with karkat being just a straight up angry dude, in MY EYES, he should.. have growth, no? idk HOW he will grow, but im basically just taking what i have right now which isnt much but i analyze things for fun sometimes so let me be.

that being said, because its so early on, im not sure where homestuck is gonna go and i dont have much to go on but being in the psychology course shit happens when you have limited information and you gotta pin point what makes a person a person and how do they cope with things to grow further into life. many of my assignments involve limited info so honestly, not that hard.

but it is something that ive noticed, the way karkat is different as he grows which possibly means the whole veil thing happens later later on in his life and we havent yet seen that small growth become patience and not whining every time he doesnt get what he wants. but growth is common and it mostly likely happens to everyone, so its not like wow this is a surprise and a plot twist, more of something that i just wanna write for the sake of writing it. i hope that makes sense? i dont exactly know where im going with this. i just mean that im basically going to analyse karkat a tiny bit so idk how to otherwise explain it but you’ll get where im going with this as i type more lmao.

anyways, so karkat literally said “pretend i dont think highly of my friend’s talents” as if he’s visibly trying to force himself from all emotions and bash on those who do (reference: “stop being sensitive, its repugnant” or whatever tf he said while TA replied with “hypocrite”) i take that as a key word. so honestly, while that was the smallest thing ive gotten from this session, its the thing im most curious about actually and i actually havent mentioned lol. because what ive learned in psych, which this is just common knowledge but i did an assignment on it so like?? could be useful?? is that people who hold off their emotions tend to hold off others as well, so there is no chance of mirroring each other. in other words, if someone is happy and starts to laugh and goof around with another, the emotions will mirror that other person subconsciously. like an addictive laugh. theres also another way to show mirroring, which is to mimic another person's actions, allowing another to establish a sense of empathy and thus begin to understand another person's emotions. in this case, im using TA and karkat as example. people who suppress emotions tend to see emotions as a bad sign and if somebody else portrayed any sign of it as well, they’ll basically say “gross what are you doing” because theyre so used to concealing it away, that they dont want others to think theyre into the whole mushy shit. so they pretend to hate it, pretend to not even be slightly affected by general sensitivity..

which basically means karkat is a softie, and even if he’s a prick right now, meeee thinks john, from earlier convos, is growing on him because john himself knows how emotions work and while i dont think troll culture does know much about it, considering the BLOOD AND CARNAGE thing, he is in fact growing and even if thats obvious, and you all know it, i am new to homestuck and am trying to see that for myself. its noticeable to some degree. he may always still be a jerk, but i am waiting to see how he slowly starts to accept things around him and to finally show what hes hiding inside. even if its just going up by a few percentages, i see its there and im hoping VERY HOPING he has the biggest character growth!

in other words, why else do i think this?? well nobody who watches romcoms can be that fucking aggressive. you need some sap in you to like it.

on that note, ill probably analyze alternia’s system and rules in another post later throughout these next few sessions because i feel it needs to be talked about and the way everything just.. is so different and doesnt seem right, you know?

thats it for now goodnight

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #hs81 #hs81 end #tfw you get so into the analysis simple shit doesnt come to mind like tagging or putting a title

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killerqueenys · 5 years ago

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just one more drink||roger taylor x reader||part two

Summary: Y/N is a drummer who has a serious drinking problem (she insists she’s “working on it”). When Y/N’s band decides to collaborate with Queen, as the two drummers, Roger and Y/N have to work side by side. Things start out rocky but then a PR stunt pushes the two together.

Warning(s): alcoholism

Word count: 3,509

A/N: This part took wayyy too long for me to finish and it’s kind of short but now I know what kind of direction I wanna go with this fic so the next parts will (hopefully) be better! Enjoy!

It had been a week since your band first met with Queen in the studio. Most everyone had gotten a little bit of their music down. Guitar riffs and stray chords, vocal runs and vibratos, even a whole bass solo. Everyone had gotten something done except for you and Roger.

While everyone was writing their instrumental parts for the verse of the song, the two of you had been bickering over little things that didn’t matter and had absolutely nothing done. It felt less like a collaboration and more like the two of you bashing one another’s creative work.

“It’s absurd!” you ranted to your band. “The guy hasn’t even contributed anything and he has the audacity to complain about my drumming?? I mean the nerve of h-”

“Y/N if you’re so upset about it, just tell the man already!” Carter interrupted.

You had been talking your head off for the past hour about Roger and your bandmates had tuned out about twenty minutes ago. Your rants tended to get a bit repetitive and they had learned that it was more productive if they just cut you off.

“I can’t! Are you crazy? He is the Roger Taylor!” you shouted clearly frustrated by Carter’s suggestion.

“Yeah and you are the Y/N Y/L/N! We’re at the top of the charts right now Y/N! And that’s partially because of your talent.” Hendrix argued.

“You know what? You’re right!” you said, your confidence growing. “I’m gonna tell him off the next time we meet! I’ve been putting all my fucking effort into this song and the least he coul-”

“Y/N! Their car just pulled up to the studio.” Lucas told you in his best attempt to get you to stop talking.

Freddie walked in dressed up far too much for just another practice session (but then again, he was always dressed his best no matter what the occasion called for). Following him were Brian, John, and Roger.

Even the way he walked pissed you off. He had so much confidence that it was borderline cockiness. As he walked towards the room where your drum kit sat, you glared at him just wishing that you had been able to do the project on your own without his constant arguing.

“Are you gonna sit there and stare at me all day or are you gonna come play?” he questioned.

“I wasn’t staring.” you huffed.

“Sure you weren’t.” Roger said sarcastically, holding the door open for you.

“Alright Roger, everyone’s already got some parts of the song figured out and we have absolutely nothing. We have to actually work this time. Constructive criticism blah blah blah is fine but no arguing!” you told him as the door shut behind you.

“Y/N it’s fine! We have time to just do nothing! We haven’t even announced to the public that we’re doing a collaboration yet.” he argued. Almost as if it were planned, your manager bust into the room.

“Hey guys just a heads up, we’ll be holding a press conference in three days announcing the collaboration!” he informed you.

“Well...shit.” Roger looked down.

“Yeah ‘well shit’ is right.” you sighed. “Now are you gonna help me or what?”

-----

Three hours later, you and Roger had an intro beat done. It wasn’t much but at least it was progress. Roger became more bearable with each measure of it that you finished. The rest of the boys had gone out to go get lunch together but made the two of you stay behind until you finished something. ‘Anything at all! Even just one hit of a snare!’ is what they had said. Now the two of you were starved.

“So, where are we going for lunch?” Roger asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

“So it’s we now huh?” you chuckled as you grabbed your coat from the coat rack. You had to admit, the two of you had made some progress with each other. From glaring at each other in the restaurant last week (for no apparent reason other than that one drumming session where you had bashed each other’s skills) and arguing every five seconds to at least being able to hold a civil conversation, things were getting better.

“Yes it’s we now. Hurry up and tell me where we’re eating before I change my mind.” he smiled. That was the first time you had seen him genuinely smile at you. All the other times before were when he had made a joke at your expense. If you were being quite honest, he had one of the most gorgeous smiles you had ever seen (though you’d never let him know) and you had to admit that it made your heart flutter a little.

“There’s a takeout place down a block and then there’s a grocery store across the street that the boys and I always sit at to eat.” you answered.

“Great let’s go,” he said with that same smile on his face as he opened the door for you. “After you.”

-----

After getting your food from the chinese takeout place, you and Roger walked across the street to the grocery store. The two plastic foldable chairs were barely held together and the small metal table between them was scratched and dented. It was a strange juxtaposition to see two world famous rockstars sitting at such a dilapidated grocery store.

“I’m gonna go in and buy a beer.” you said as you turned towards the doors.

“No you’re not.” Roger called out.

“Excuse me?” you questioned. “And why not?”

“Your friend Lucas told me about your little drinking problem.” he spoke. “Told me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t do any day drinking or whatnot.”

“So he‘s got me a babysitter now?” you huffed.

“Y/N come on. Think about it, do you really need that beer right now?” he persuaded.

“Fine. I’ll just go in for water.” you relented but he gave you a skeptical look. “I promise. You can even go in with me if you really want to keep such a close eye.”

You didn’t expect him to actually go in with you but to your surprise, he stood and waited for you to open the doors. Inside the store, the air conditioning was weak and the fluorescent lighting was a bit too harsh on your eyes but it was something that you and your band mates had gotten accustomed to as you went there every friday together. Usually it was to eat, maybe it was a band discussion, but sometimes you would go there to just talk. You had quickly become a tight knit family, not just a band.

Grabbing two waters, you head to the counter where you had gotten to know the store owner over time.

“Y/N, no drinks this time?” he asked.

“She’s trying to quit.” Roger spoke for you.

“And who’s this? You didn’t tell me you got a new boyfriend Y/N!”

“No no no it’s nothing like that I swear.” you spoke a little too quickly. “This is Roger Taylor of Queen. The boys and I are working on a little something with them.”

“Are we allowed to tell anyone about that?” Roger whispered in your ear.

“Actually...probably not,” you paused. “It’s fine he won’t tell anyone. Doesn’t keep up with pop culture shit.”

After paying for your bottles of water, you head back outside and suddenly realized how tired your feet were from walking down the long block. Sitting down, you both set your chinese takeout onto the wobbly table.

“Are you sure this thing will hold?” Roger asked.

“Actually, we have a little bet going to see how long it takes until this thing breaks,” you laughed. “I said two week about well...two weeks ago so I guess I’ve lost already. Lucas and Hendrix both swear it’ll last at least three more months and Carter lost two weeks ago when he bet that ‘this shit should be broken by the time we finish eating’”

“Well you might just win that bet because this thing looks like it’s on it’s last leg.” Roger said as he inspected the table.

“It might look that way but it’s a lot sturdier than you think.” you spoke, waving your fork around. As Roger was inspecting the table leg, you quickly swiped some of the chicken from his takeout box.

“Hey I saw that!” he said shooting up from below the table.

“Sorry! Another bad habit I guess!” you laughed.

“Well fair’s fair,” he said as he took some of your fried rice. You retaliated by taking even more of his food and he did the same until it got to the point where you both basically had half of each dish.

After you had finished eating the majority of your meal with Roger, you heard a creek. Suddenly, the battered table beneath your takeout boxes collapsed one leg at a time.

After the initial shock of the clang of the metal table hitting the concrete floor, you both looked up at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. You held your stomachs and tried to catch your breath but it was no use as more laughter filled the air whenever you tried to suppress it.

“We should probably clean that up.” he looked up, still out of breath from laughing so hard.

“Hey, at least I won the bet,” you joked. “They’ll never believe that I won so you’re gonna have to be my witness.”

-----

“I swear it happened!” you spoke to your band. “Roger was there and everything! Roger tell them.” “It’s true,” Roger chimed in. “Table just fell apart halfway through lunch.”

Suddenly the door flew open and there stood both of your managers who looked fairly upset.

“What the hell is this?” your manager asked as he threw the daily newspaper onto the coffee table in front of you.

There in big bold letters read:

POSSIBLE LOVERS? DRUMMERS ROGER TAYLOR AND Y/N Y/L/N SEEN SPENDING SOME ROMANTIC TIME TOGETHER ON A CASUAL LUNCH DATE.

Underneath the headline were pictures of you and Roger taking food from each other’s plates and then another of you two laughing at the fallen metal table. Honestly, it would have looked like you were just friends if it weren’t for the third picture. Under the first two images, there was one of you and Roger walking to the grocery store but you were walking incredibly close together. You didn’t remember standing that close.

The room went silent. You looked to your band mates and then to Roger. Why were your managers so upset over this? The silence hung in the air for what felt like forever until your band mates all burst into laughter at the same time.

“Y/N with Roger? Please they would kill each other within the first 24 hours of being together!” Hendrix laughed.

“Why are you guys so upset over this anyways?” you asked your managers. “It’s just teenage gossip right? It should blow over by next week.”

“Problem is that we don’t have until next week,” he replied. “Two more days until the press conference about your collaboration and all the questions are gonna be about you and Roger and not the music.”

“Well what are we to do about it?” Roger spoke. “It was just lunch and it’s not our fault that the press took it out of context.”

“And that’s why we have a plan,” your manager looked to the two of you. “We’re going to turn this into a little PR stunt.” “What do you mean?” you questioned, already sensing that it wouldn’t be good for you.

“What he means is that you and Roger are gonna be a couple to the public eye,” Queen’s manager spoke. “At least until the record has been released.”

“A what?” you and Roger both spoke outraged. This only made the laughs of all your band mates increase in volume.

“In public you two will be all lovey dovey but in private you’ll just be colleagues,” your manager spoke. “It’ll help put you guys in the media which in turn would increase the sales of the record. I promise you it’s a good thing.” Roger looked around the room to his band mates who all nodded. Then he looked to you. His eyes lingered for a bit before he turned to his manager and spoke.

“Honestly, if she’s okay with it, I’ll do it.” he agreed.

Copying his movements before, you looked to your own band mates who also nodded. Then you turned, looking to meet Roger’s blue eyes.

“Can I think on it overnight?” you asked. “I promise I’ll let you know what I’ve decided by tomorrow morning.”

-----

“Well I don’t know Lucas…” you spoke into the phone.

“Look, obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he responded. “But it would be really good for the band. Plus you’d be dating Roger Taylor so it wouldn’t be the worst deal.”

“I just got used to not arguing with him every time we’re in the same room!” you sighed. “I like the guy but I don’t want to date him.” “It’s only in public Y/N not in private.” Lucas spoke gently. “Just think about it okay?”

“Yeah...I will.” you replied.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

-----

The next morning, your stomach filled with nerves. For the first time ever, you were hesitant about going into your own studio.

It was 5am when you woke up and sleepily got ready to announce your decision to the team. Now, at 6am, you were driving to the studio with a headache that felt strangely like a hangover despite the fact that you didn’t really drink yesterday.

Well, that was yesterday. Today is today you thought as you parked into the parking lot and pulled out the vodka you had in the backseat of your car. Maybe it would cure your headache (okay, the logic doesn’t make sense but that vodka looked really tempting).

“It’s just one sip.” you thought aloud as you took a big gulp from the bottle. You got your keys out as the burning sensation passed through your body.

“Okay, now I’m ready.”

-----

“I’ll do it.” you announced as you flung the door open. Everyone turned their heads to face you. “What? I said I’d be thinking about it! That didn’t mean no.”

“Well that’s great because we kind of already set up an interview for you two today.” your manager informed you as he walked out of the kitchenette with a cup of coffee.

“What? Today? What kind of management is this that you’re telling me now that I have an interview today?” you shouted. You had agreed to date Roger in the public eye but you didn’t agree to any interviews and certainly not any so soon.

“It was very last minute but it’ll be small. Only fifteen minutes at the very most.” Queen’s manager said.

“Where’s Roger anyways?” you asked suddenly noticing his lack of presence. “Does he know about this?” “Yes, we rang him yesterday.” “Well why didn’t you bother to call me?” you questioned.

“We did but no one picked up. Figured you were asleep.” you manager answered.

“It was 4 o’clock in the bloody morning Dan,” Lucas spoke to your manager. “Couldn’t have picked a better time.” “Suppose you’re right…” he said. “Well, there’s nothing that can be done now, it’s already been scheduled. There’s a binder on your drum set explaining what you should and should not do and a couple of things to talk about during the interview.”

“Are you being serious right now? Is this some kind of joke?” you laughed.

“Y/N I’ll admit, this was bad planning on my part but please do this. For the band?” he begged. You rolled your eyes but walked into your drum room and looked at the papers that they had gotten ready for you anyways.

As you were reading the third page (they had fifteen pages written out. Fifteen whole fucking pages), a knock came on your door. You looked out the little window that gave you a view into the lounge and saw Lucas’s puppy eyes asking if he could come in.

“Hey, how you doing with all of this?” he asked as he entered and shut the door behind him.

“It’s a lot for the first fucking day,” you admitted. “But, I’ll manage.”

“Look, it’s great that you said yes and all but, why did you say yes?” he asked. “You sounded like you were really against the idea yesterday. The guys and I just don’t want to make you feel like we’re forcing you into anything.”

“Lucas, I agreed to the plan on my own accord. It’s okay, I want to do this,” you assured him.

“You know that we’ll stick with you no matter what right?” he looked to you with concern plastered all over his face.

“Yeah but it’ll honestly be really good for record sales. Plus, I’d be the hottest gossip for at least the next two weeks.” you joked.

Even though that was the excuse you gave to Lucas, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of being with Roger a little bit. Of course you were doing this for your band and your own success, but the idea of dinner dates or strolls in the park with Roger made your heart glow.

“Well as long as y-” Lucas started but he was cut off by Roger opening the door.

“Sorry to interrupt but they said to tell you that we’re leaving in ten minutes.” he spoke apologetically.

“Ten minutes??” you asked shocked. They were really testing your patience.

“Ridiculous right?” he agreed as Lucas excused himself from the room.

“They literally just told me to read this thing five minutes ago!” you exclaimed waving the binder around.

“Oh right that thing!” Roger laughed. “I lied about reading it all so could I maybe take a peek at that?”

-----

Ten minutes flew by quickly and now you were situated in the back of the car with Roger while your managers sat up at the front. Not having read the entire manual yet, you and Roger shared the binder the entire ride there.

“Wait hold on a second,” Roger stopped and pointed to the fifth line on the tenth page. “You don’t want us to explicitly say that we’re together? How does that make any sense?”

“Well we have to keep them guessing,” his manager spoke. “If you tell them so quickly that you’re dating then they’ll know that you’re together and then there wouldn’t be any gossip. It’s not a real news story these days if you know all the details.”

“So then what’s the point of sending us two out on this interview?” you questioned. It seemed a little ridiculous to be doing an interview about your relationship when you weren’t even allowed to talk about it.

“It’ll be a video interview so they’ll be able to capture all of your body language,” Roger’s manager told you. “The interview will be mostly about any new music, how the tour was for each of your bands, future plans and whatnot. They promised not to ask any personal questions or anything pertaining to your rumoured relationship.”

“We really just need you to convey everything through your body language,” you manager cut in. “Touching knees, hands almost overlapping, Roger maybe you could rest your arm against the back of the couch behind Y/N? You know, cutesy stuff that all those celebrity couples do.”

“Ugh fine.” you and Roger rolled your eyes in unison. Despite the rough start between you two, you were more similar than either of you cared to admit.

-----

You looked out the window, and watched the commuting cars zooming by and the little flashes of green from the trees you passed. Your eyelids started to feel heavy from the little amount of sleep you had gotten the night before. Soon, both you and Roger were fast asleep. (The car ride was pretty long after all. I mean, 40 minutes for one interview? A bit extensive if you ask me!)

“We’re here.” your manager announced startling you both awake.

Somehow, in the small space that was available for the two of you in the backseat, you had ended up huddled together in the middle seat. Roger’s arm was wrapped around you and you had your face buried in his neck.

Looking at the tall building ahead of you, you jumped away from Roger as you suddenly realized how close he had gotten to you in your slumber.

Roger shifted a little in his seat and as he did, his hand brushed against yours and it sent little chills through you.

You thought that it would be hard to act like you were into Roger but now, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the challenge would be avoiding real feelings for him.

——————————————————————————————

A/N: Anyways idk how I felt about this one! Any notes or reblogs are appreciated and if you’d like, you can send in a request! If you’d like to be added to my taglist, just let me know if you want to be on my permanent taglist or just the one for this series! If you’d like to be removed from it, just let me know! <3

series taglist:

@anxiouslymalicious @loveandbeloved29 @caborhapch @mercurycrowley @theprettyfandom @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @radiob-l-a-hblah @stormtrprinstilettos @rogahtaylahdrummah @catch-a-deak @prince-lucifer-v

permanent taglist:

@loversoon @luvborhap

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor smut #roger taylor #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy smut #ben hardy #ben hardy!roger x reader #queen imagine #borhap imagine #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #just one more drink

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arcanalust · 5 years ago

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Aphrodisiac Incense Porn starring Asra and male!MC part one, coming up!

I don’t know what Asra is planning. We’ve been in Drakr for three days and so far, it’s been a typical trip. I’m enjoying my time with Asra immensely but Asra said he had something planned. The longer we go without this surprise, the more wary I am of it. I love Asra dearly, more than I thought it possible to love someone, and I usually love his surprises, but he’s come up with some real stinkers. We always have a good laugh over a flop, but usually when it takes him this long to get on with it, it’s because he’s not sure of it himself.

“So,” I say over breakfast, “do we have any particular plans for today?”

Asra picks at his meal. “Actually, we do. We’re going downtown. There’s a particular store I want to visit, but it’s...”

His voice trails off. “Yes?” I prompt gently.

“It’s of an... adult nature.”

It takes me a second to catch his meaning. I feel heat rise in my face when I do. “Oh.”

“There’s something in particular that’s rumored to be there. Incense that makes people... amorous.”

I almost laugh. “Do you really think we need that kind of assistance, of all people? We make love more nights than not.”

“I’ve never been under the influence of an aphrodisiac before. I’m curious.”

I have to admit, I am too. “Well, your curiosity is legendary,” I say with a grin. “When do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we can go as soon as we’re done breakfast. There are other stores I’m sure will catch our attention. I plan to spend all day shopping, then a nap, if we’re both tired enough- then the real fun begins.”

His tone is suggestive, and I can’t help the smirk that crosses my lips, nor the renewed blush across my face. “I see. Sounds good to me. Remember, though- you promised we’d see a play while we’re here. We’re not leaving until I get my play.”

“I planned to stay for another week. We’ve got plenty of time to see a play. Is there anything else you want to do while we’re here?”

I shake my head as I shrug. “I dunno. I’m not as familiar with Drakr as you are. I’ve never been here.”

Asra gives me a look that usually means I’ve touched a nerve, and I’m about to apologize for whatever it was when he mumbles something under his breath. I can’t quite catch it, but it sounds a bit like, “Yes you have...”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pointedly ignoring what I thought I heard. I know my memory is a sore spot with him sometimes. “I didn’t catch that.”

“It’s nothing.” The bright smile is back on his face, even if I can see the regret in his eyes. “Are you almost done? I want to get going.”

“You barely touched your breakfast.” I emphasize the remark by spearing some scrambled eggs and eating them.

“I’m not very hungry today.” He starts eating despite his words.

We continue our conversation as we eat, and I try not to show that I’m worried about this funk he seems to be in today. Asra’s been more open with his emotions the longer we’ve been a couple, and I’m discovering that he can be very moody. I don’t mind; I love him, and he usually shakes himself out of it on his own in a day or two. Still, it’s distressing to see him so downtrodden- especially since we’re here to relax.

So I turn the conversation back to the adult-themed store he wants to visit. “You said that it’s just a rumor that this place has this aphrodisiac incense. You’re not going to be too disappointed if they don’t have it, are you?”

“No,” he says, drawing the word out. “I’m sure we can find something to make the trip worth it even if that’s the case. Maybe even if it isn’t the case.” He grins at me suggestively, and it takes all my willpower not to ask him if he wants to work out some of the sexual tension already building. He’ll say no. He does love delayed gratification, and I know he’ll want himself nice and worked up for whatever treasures we find at this shop.

It’s nearly mid morning by the time we leave the inn and head downtown. We walk hand-in-hand, mostly window-shopping, although a few times something catches our eyes and we go into shops. By the time we reach the shop Asra planned this whole trip around, he has a set of gold wrist-cuffs that go beautifully with his choker, I have a new sweater, and we’ve picked up some delicate treats for Faust. We see several items that our friends back in Vesuvia would love, and resolve to go back out to get them before we leave for home.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find the adult shop immaculately clean, well-lit, and smelling delightful from a candle burning behind the counter. The woman behind the counter nods to us with a friendly smile as we enter, and Asra goes right up to the counter, greeting her cheerfully- and innocently, as if we’re not here to buy a mind-altering substance that should make us even more eager to ravish each other than we already are.

I wander over to a wall adorned with various toys and whatnot, trying to ignore how my face is alight with embarrassment as I look over the wares. A pair of handcuffs lined with brightly-dyed fur catches my eye, and I grab them, glancing over at Asra to see if he’s done yet. He apparently is, because he sees me looking for him and comes sauntering over. “See something you want?” And then he sees what’s in my hands. “Oh.”

“I definitely see something I want.” I wink at him.

He looks surprised for a second, before a sly grin takes over his features. “It’s nice to know my desire is reciprocated,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as he draws close to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “Who exactly are you planning for those to be used on?”

I give him a smirk. “Who do you think, Asra? Really now.”

He snickers, burying his face in my neck. “Tomorrow. I want your hands free tonight.”

“Then they have it?”

“They have it.” He pulls away from me after planting a kiss on my cheek. “See anything else you want?”

We browse the shop for a while, gently teasing each other, although I can’t say that our verbal teasing isn’t getting us both wound up, but we don’t agree on any other toys, so Asra takes my handcuffs to the counter, where the clerk already has a small paper bag ready. “You two are adorable,” she remarks as she rings up the sale. “How long have you been together?”

“A little over two years,” Asra answers. That question always makes me uncomfortable, because I’m aware that we were together before my death- I just can’t remember it. We had to talk about it last time Asra was honest about the total time we’ve been romantically entwined. He eventually agreed that, since I don’t remember them, the years before my death don’t count. I know it’s been hard on him, having to distance himself from the years and years he’s been in love with me, but I make a point to let him know just how much I love him now. Now is what matters, a sentiment he agrees with wholeheartedly.

Asra finishes paying for the incense and handcuffs and we take our leave of the shop. “I’m hungry,” he declares with a wicked grin, and I suppress a groan of anticipation. I want to go back to our room at the inn, but he’s going to draw this outing out as much as he can. “Oh, don’t make that face. You know I’ll make it worth the wait. I always do, don’t I?”

“I can’t argue with that.” We start to wander the streets, looking for a restaurant that looks appetizing, and I take his hand as we walk and lean into him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I say softly.

Color sweeps across his face. “Ah, sorry about that,” he replies. “I don’t know why I was so mopey this morning.”

“You can’t be a ray of sunshine all the time,” I reply. “You’re allowed to be in a bad mood. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at me and bumps shoulders with me.

After that, though, he spends the rest of the afternoon teasing me. A less-than-innocent remark here, a suggestive touch there, pulling me into alleyways to pass his lips over my neck and throat in a ghost of a kiss before letting go, interlacing our fingers again, and pulling me back onto the street before I have time to react or reciprocate.

The teasing gets unbearable when his fingers innocently brush the front of my trousers, and I bite my lip hard to keep from reacting. “That’s it,” I say, somehow managing to keep a growl from my voice. “We’re going back to the inn and you are in so much trouble when we get there.”

“Oh?” His tone is playful, challenging. “And what do you plan to do when we get back to- ack! Hey, slow down!”

I halt to give him a chance to catch his footing again before tugging him insistently as we start walking again. He laughs, a joyful sound, as he picks up his pace to walk beside me. “Maybe I should do this more often,” he murmurs to me. “I think I like it when you’re so ready to take charge.”

I consider backing off. Mercilessly teasing me in public is a habit I don’t know if I want to encourage. That thought is shoved to the back of my mind, though- I’m desperate for him at this point. I don’t even think I want to give him a chance to light that incense.

I decide, as we get back to our rooms, that I don’t want to. The moment the door is closed, I push Asra against it, my lips seeking his throat. A low groan escapes him as he presses against me, fingers scrabbling for the hem of my shirt. My teeth scrape gently against his skin as he gets a grip on the fabric and I let him tug it up over my head. We work his clothes off as well- scarf, coat, sash, shirt. “I never realized how overdressed you always are,” I breathe against his lips. He chuckles and kisses me hard, running his hands across my shoulders and down my chest, gently pushing against me.

I let him guide us to the bed before twisting us around and bearing down on him, forcing him down onto the mattress. He gasps my name as I trail kisses from his neck down his chest, my hands going for his belt. He gently puts his hands on my wrists, guiding my hands as I undo the belt and work his pants off. Breathlessly, I sit up, straddling his waist as I deal with my own belt and pants. His fingers wrap around me the moment I’m free of my undergarments, eliciting a gasp and a moan from the back of my throat. I lean over him as he strokes me, nipping at his earlobe. “What do you want?” I murmur in his ear.

“You.”

I give a breathy chuckled as his stroking gets more insistent. “I’m going to need you to be more specific,” I inform him, unable to hold myself back from thrusting into his hand.

“Fuck me.” The words carry the weight of a command, even if his tone is begging.

I sit back and rummage in one of our bags for the oil we use for this, a thrill of delight shimmering through me. Asra rarely asks me to fuck him; we’re both just more comfortable with it the other way around. But we both thoroughly enjoy it either way, so I scoot off him and stand at the side of the bed, between his knees as his legs dangle off the edge. I slick up my fingers and ease a digit inside of him. He hisses and grasps the sheets beneath him as I start to move. “More,” he demands, his voice harsh. I add a second finger, and his head falls back onto the mattress with a gasp and a groan, grinding his hips down on my hand.

I work him over for several minutes, relishing the noises he’s making, until I can’t stand it any longer. “Are you ready?” I ask breathlessly.

“Yes, I want you inside me, please, please-“

Without wasting any time, I pull him so that he’s a bit off the bed, using my other hand to slick myself up, then push into him gently. His head falls back to the mattress again as a low keening noise comes from him as I bury myself completely in him, and hold still to let him get used to the feeling. I bend over him as he’s panting, lifting his free hand to my lips and trailing kisses down his wrist. “You okay?” I murmur against his hand.

“Oh gods, yes,” he replies, breath and flushed to the tips of his ears. I take it as permission to move, gently at first, sliding out of him and back in, eliciting a loud groan from him as his other hand fists the sheets, his knuckles white.

I breath praises and encouragement as I move, telling him how good he feels, how much I love it when he lets me fuck him. As far as I can tell, though, he’s practically senseless, groaning and gasping with every thrust.

On impulse, I take his hand and lick two of his fingers. His eyes open, surprised. “What’re you-“

He doesn’t get the whole question out. It collapses into another loud moan when I put his fingers in my mouth and start licking and swirling my tongue around them, giving him an idea of what I plan to do for him if I finish before he does.

He gasps my name again and disentangles his free hand from the sheets to stroke himself eagerly, and I consider telling him to stop, that I want him in my mouth when I’m finished. Then a wicked thought crosses my mind. “Think we’ll be up for round two after this?” I pant.

Asra grins at me, just as breathless as I am. “You didn’t let me light the incense,” he informs me, needlessly. “Light it and see if it works?”

“That sounds like a-oh gods, Asra, I’m so close-“

My words melt into a breathy moan, one that Asra echoes. I feel him tense up beneath me, and he all but shouts my name as he comes, spilling all over his hand and abdomen. The sight of him like that and the feel of him clenching up in his orgasm drives me over the edge, thrusting deep inside him as I come with a sharp cry. The force of my orgasm makes my knees buckle, and I drop to the floor, gasping and panting.

Asra says my name again, this time concerned, as he slides off the bed to join me on the floor. "Are you okay?"

I breathe deep, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm fine. I just couldn't stay standing." Asra pulls me into his arms and we hold each other as we catch our breath in the afterglow. I can feel his heart beating in tandem with mine, the feel of his heartbeat in his chest soothing me.

Once our hearts are beating at a more reasonable pace, Asra kisses my temple and helps me to my feet. "I light that incense, and we go get cleaned up while it works its magic."

"You're awfully sure that it's going to work."

"I'm not sure at all it's going to work. It smells nice anyway." And then a thought occurs to him. "I need to make sure Faust isn't in the room. She usually leaves us to it when we get going, but I don't want her breathing in a mind-altering substance."

"Right. Check on Faust, light incense, clean up, and see what happens?"

"That's the plan." He kisses me again, this time on the mouth, tongue slipping against mine. "I love you."

"I love you too. So, so much. Let's get going before we decide we're too tired for round two." He laughs heartily and helps me stand, and I feel his magic reaching out as I head to the bathroom to clean up.

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markoftheasphodel · 5 years ago

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The Blue Lions and the Burden of Tradition

Note: spoilers related to multiple Fire Emblem games including FE1/11, FE2/15, FE3/12, FE5, and FE8 follow.

The classic Fire Emblem plot line is the one sketched out by its first installment, Dark Dragons and the Sword of Light, all the way back in ’90. Young Prince Marth loses homeland in surprise betrayal, mopes in exile, gathers allies, retakes homeland, unites continent, defeats dragon, settles down to become virtuous ruler with love interest at his side. Then Fire Emblem Gaiden offered a counterpoint narrative in which a scrappier hero, village boy Alm, unites half a continent through military prowess before he even finds out he’s the prince, whereupon he too can defeat a big bad monster and settle down with his childhood companion/love interest as his consort. Marth restores order to The Way Things Were, But Better. Alm sweeps away a corrupt order entirely and puts something else in its place. One can be viewed as fundamentally conservative, looking back to an idealized past and trying to recreate it without the old mistakes. The other is revolutionary, but the way the revolution plays out the New Boss has an awful lot in common with the Old Boss (kings, nobles, churches). Any way you slice it the best outcome is a Just Ruler with the blessings of heaven and democracy ain’t in the cards. These two basic narratives have shaped every single installment of Fire Emblem to date. Some lean more heavily on the Marth narrative (Binding Blade), some on the Alm narrative (Path of Radiance), and others combine elements of both— Thracia 776, Sacred Stones, and Awakening all take some of Column A and some of Column B and and achieve strikingly difference outcomes.

The Blue Lions route of Three Houses offers the latest iteration of that classic Marth narrative, and it proves the deepest, richest, most nuanced look at that storyline to date even if it’s ultimately constrained by its own tropes.

Its protagonist, Prince Dimitri, is introduced as a polite and courtly young man, the image of a Fire Emblem princeling, and as Part I of Three Houses unfolds the viewer is let into just how much of a Fire Emblem Prince Dimitri is. He’s the last hope of his house and kingdom, an orphan who lost his family under traumatic circumstances, and he’s struggling to maintain his peaceful ideals in the face of his lingering trauma and suppressed rage. As Dimitri receives both character revelation and character development through Part I, he echoes not just Marth but Thracia 776’s Leif and Ephraim from Sacred Stones, and those echoes carry over strongly to Part II of this route.

Likewise, Dimitri’s fellow Blue Lions, initially just another lot of fresh-faced schoolchildren, reveal themselves to be the Three Houses iterations of some classic “archetypes” of Fire Emblem. We have the “steady” traditionalist knight in Ingrid, the more unruly “rowdy” knight in Sylvain, the sullen swordmaster in Felix, the bright-eyed archer in Ashe, the bright-eyed mage in Annette, the demure healer with the convoluted backstory in Mercedes, and the battered old retainer in Gilbert. If you expect your “Christmas Knights” and “Navarre” and “Lena” and whatnot out of a Fire Emblem game, Blue Lions offers the entire set; they’re just a little harder to detect thanks to the open class system and lack of convenient color-coding.

Where the Blue Lions breaks with three-decades-old expectations is in its handling of the resident heavy; Dedue fills a slot on the starting team usually given short shrift (see: Draug, Bors), but in terms of plot and character and— critically— personal value to Dimitri he transcends both the stale Armor Knight niche that his character design nudges him to be and the Devoted Retainer trope that’s gotten a bit weird in recent years. Some recent games presented “devotion” in ways that were kind of twisted yet the games didn’t seem to really acknowledge how off-key it all was; Three Houses takes a full dive into what Dedue’s devotion to Dimitri (and vice-versa!) can encompass, how it’s a double-edged blade that can uplift or utterly destroy. That Dedue manages this while also being saddled with the role of being The Stigmatized Other to the Blue Lions cast is nothing short of remarkable.

Your core Blue Lions party is essentially the conservative wing of the Officers’ Academy. Ingrid may be the most orthodox knight of your house, but ultimately the entire core party is royalist and traditionalist, even when the system they’re holding up has hurt them personally. Annette, Sylvain, and most especially Felix offer some degree of dissent, but ultimately all of them fall in line behind King Dimitri and his unified continent— and in supporting Dimitri, by default they support the Church of Seiros under its new archbishop. This unswerving support of the Church structure on the Blue Lions route is hardly happenstance, as the game is basically waving a flag at the audience to let them know yes, this is indeed the conservative Restorationist faction— un roi une loi une foi. Still, the inner tensions of these loyalists as they play out through supports and in-game chatter— Felix against Ingrid and Dedue and Dimitri, Annette against Gilbert, Sylvain in his asides to Byleth— provide a multifaceted critique of the very concepts of Knighthood and Faith that the franchise has been trying to pull off since at least Thracia 776, whose beats the Lions’ plot structure samples more than once.

The game takes some risks; New Mystery of the Emblem supplied Avatar Kris as a mechanism to keep Marth’s fingerless gloves from getting dirtied by the grunt work of conquering an continent; Three Houses lets Dimitri’s hands get so filthy that his knights and vassals are appalled by it. He regains his moral compass and everyone’s respect after a tragedy that is one of the clearest call-backs to Thracia 776, but in Leif’s case the shock he received was a spur for a naive youth to grow up and look at the larger picture instead of his narrow goals. In Dimitri’s case, he’s got about five years of atrocities to atone for. That said, Thracia 776 arguably had a more realistic resolution to the Lord’s character development, as endgame Leif STILL has some growing-up to do, whereas Dimitri gets markedly better after a couple of conversations despite spending five years in the abyss.

And then we get to the Childhood Friend, one of the moments of the Blue Lions route that strongly evokes Sacred Stones. On this route we learn that Dimitri and antagonist Edelgard shared a fleeting but precious bond in childhood— but whereas antagonist Lyon uses a similar bond to his repeated advantage against the Sacred Stones Lords Eirika and Ephraim, Edelgard doesn’t even make the connection between Dimitri and her own lost childhood friend until he confronts her with the memory. It’s a one-sided bond that fuels Dimitri’s rage and regrets but is essentially irrelevant to Edelgard’s ambitions. The final wordless confrontation between them finally has Edelgard use Dimitri’s nostalgia as a literal weapon against him… and he silently runs her through with his lance for it— far cry from Lyon whispering “C’mon Ephraim, smile like you used to” as he dies in Ephraim’s arms. For a series that has leaned heavily on the trope of “Friendship is Magic” in recent years, it’s interesting to have the idea of the sepia-tinted childhood memory rendered impotent— but then again, the developers were supposedly inspired by Genealogy of the Holy War and the way that events pitted sworn friends and allies against one another.

The grand scope of Genealogy may be more apparent on other routes of Three Houses, but the Blue Lions route is fundamentally more narrow in scope, with this Thracia-like focus on Dimitri’s traumas, Dimitri’s loves and losses, Dimitri’s redemption, Dimitri’s ability to spare enemies and kill former friends. This in turn hobbles the ending of the route, much as Thracia 776 was hobbled by its status as a midquel, a singular if vivid chapter in the overall saga of Jugdral. Alliance and Empire totter, everything falls into Dimitri’s lap, the church is bolstered without any significant onscreen reforms or even onscreen questions on what the hell was going on under Rhea, and everything becomes as it was, but better— one king, one law, one faith (or one major faith with ecumenical tolerance for the rest, per Seteth’s ending), and apparently some reforms for the sake of The People. Dimitri’s going to be fine, and we all just have to have faith in the rest of it.

All in all, it brings to mind that Marth’s most successful game (Mystery of the Emblem), and the GBA game that hewed most strongly to the Marth Narrative (Binding Blade) both had Bad Endings in which the real answers, the true resolution, was never achieved. The Blue Lions route feels at once like a beautiful love letter to the Marth plot-line in all its iterations, in which the elements of its predecessors are revisited to grand effect— and a Bad Ending, a dead-end, an eternity of the curtain abruptly coming down once Marth defeats Hardin or even the hollow “is that all there is” moment of Leif besting Veld. It almost feels like a rebuke to the player for choosing to spend eighty, ninety, one-hundred hours in the company of Dimitri and his traditionalists, for choosing to glory in the multi-layered nostalgia offered by the Blue Lions. Perhaps it’s simply a cue that this is the route to play first, that it’s best to be guided into Fodlan by a familiar set of faces before choosing to open the doors of perception that the Golden Deer or Black Eagles offer. Given how heavily the pre-game marketing hyped the Black Eagles, that seems a bit weird.

I suppose the only way to get answers is to play another 200+ hours of Three Houses….

#fe16 spoilers #fe16 #fodlan meta #blue lions meta #fire emblem meta #jugdral meta #archanea meta #magvel meta

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westfrosts · 6 years ago

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Fluff ABCs - Colt x MC

A/N: it’s ya favourite colt writers! hehe, we whipped up a quick little something for Colt, some fluffy prompt ABCs, we got the lovely template from @pixelburied so thanks to them!

Tag List: y’all know the drill hehe @tabithacarlisle @lifeof314universe @flowerpowell @lady-dianelewis @confessionsofabrokegirl @drakewalkerdrunk @zeniamiii @i-am-clementine @gayplaychoices @marcela13mars @ladymarquess @claudevonstruke @stillafictosexual @wolfmckenzie @emomoustache @inkandfables @coltkaneko @thegardendiety @akrenich @ckanekos

A – Anger (What was their first fight about? Any big or recurring arguments?)

Their first major fight was over a dangerous race that Colt had entered, perhaps for his father or simply to show off. MC doesn’t want Colt to participate in them, however, or at least wants him to participate less. At one point, they even fought over their fathers/families since they constantly have those troubles. Sometimes, Colt and MC find themselves wondering if they’ll ever be a ‘normal’ couple and if he’ll ever leave the MPC. Part of Colt wants to leave but the other half wants to remain and protect his father.

B – Best (What would they say is the other’s best trait?)

Colt loves MC’s humour, it’s so bizarre at times and so stupid at others, but it never fails to make him smile or laugh. MC loves Colt’s charm and witty banter, he can always lighten up a room or a situation by making one of his comments. They get on so well because of how similar their sense of humour is.

C – Camera (How do they document their relationships? Who likes to take pictures? Or videos?)

Colt takes sneaky photos of MC who thinks that he hates it and never has any of her but his camera roll is almost full to the brim with candid photos of MC. MC is a lot more open about it and openly snaps photos of him, something that Colt has slowly gotten used to. She loves it especially when he’s not wearing his jacket and manages to snag some shots of his arms. MC takes a lot of videos of Colt when he’s unaware, loving how he furrows his brow when he’s determined and focused on something.

D – Dates (What are their dates like?)

Colt loves astronomy and science so he’d make their first date be a picnic/late night meal that ends in stargazing. He points out constellations to MC and tells her everything he knows because it’s one of his favourite topics and things to learn about. MC stares at him the entire time with a smile on her face. Probably also go on study dates because they both like being the top of their class. Another date is where Colt takes her on a motorbike ride throughout town or the city he grew up in, pointing things out to her and being her tour guide. They normally go out to eat because that’s one of their favourite things to do. Sometimes they even go to those dance party sort of things with all the cars around, Colt is a great dancer and his hips move like you’ve never seen before.

E – Early (What was the first month of dating like?)

It was nervous, hesitant, neither one of them was too sure because Colt was in a gang and MC’s dad was the one trying to bust them. Eventually, they managed to work around it and through it and everything felt like normal. But there were many times in the beginning where MC doubted herself, Colt, everything. She couldn’t read him that well back then and never knew what he was thinking, never knew if he liked her as much as she liked him which really stressed her out at times. Colt was also in a similar position because he’d never loved/liked anyone this much before and it scared him.

F – Friends (How is their relationship with each other’s group of friends?)

They all get on with each other quite well, even though the MPC can have their little arguments and fights, they all care for each other, including Logan despite his whole ‘never sticking around long enough to make friends/family’ thing going on. Whenever Colt tags along on study dates, he gets on quite well with Darius and they both end up talking forever about all sorts of deep and wonderful topics.

G – Gifts (Do they like giving each other gifts? What kind?)

They most likely got each other some sort of charms related to vehicles/motorbikes what with their ongoing ‘bike/car’ rivalry. It’s their inside joke and they never go anywhere without their charms. When Colt sees MC eyeing something one day, he’ll make sure to buy it at a later date and try his hardest to wrap it up all nice and fancy for her. Then he’ll leave it laying around somewhere, conveniently at a time when he’s not there so she can’t bombard him and drown him in all that cheesy affection. .

H – Hugs (All things involving hugs)

MC and Colt love being hugged by one another. Colt hasn’t been loved as much so he needs all the warmth, hugs, love, everything! MC likes hugging Colt because he smells nice, he has a woody, piney smell with a hint of ocean breeze and cinnamon. Colt loves when MC hugs him and runs her hands through his hair, it calms him down and soothes him a lot.

I – Inside Jokes (Do they have any?)

MC and Colt buying each other a motorbike and car key-chain/charm of some sort because of their half-hearted vehicle rivalry. They also share jokes and make quips about their fathers and their family lives, something they’ve now come to bond over and actually be able to bounce back from thanks to the understanding they have of one another.

J – Jealousy (Who gets jealous easier? How do they show their jealousy?)

I feel like Colt would get jealous easier because he’s more insecure and stuff what with his childhood but he would never show his jealousy or he would try not to because he wouldn’t want to come off as too overprotective or insecure. If MC gets jealous she wouldn’t hesitate in showing her emotions and would walk right over, throwing her arm around Colt or something.

K – Kiss (How do they kiss? Who usually initiates?)

MC would probably be the one to initiate the kisses but Colt would then be the one who gets pulled in and can’t seem to let go. MC going in for a soft or chaste kiss and Colt decides to deepen them and make them more passionate. He kisses like he’ll lose her or she’ll disappear in front of him. MC’s kisses are chaste because she’s still doesn’t believe Colt likes her. She never thought she was anything special and hardly enough to catch the eye of someone like Colt, but he’s always vocal about how much he loves her or her subtle touches so there’s no room for doubt.

L – Love (How do they first say those three words?)

I feel like Colt fell in love with MC first but he never really said it out loud because the poor boy has never been able to properly articulate his thoughts surrounding love and those sorts of feelings. Once he knew him and MC were in it for the long run he would probably be the first to say the words because she was able to make him open up, to understand his feelings better and to understand love better, both receiving and giving that love.

M – Movies (What kinds of movies do they watch together? Is it a regular Netflix ritual?)

Hmm, I feel like Colt would like practical movies with plots that are not outrageous. I imagine if he watched an action or fantasy movie with MC, he'd point out plot holes or how dumb something is. MC loves rom-coms or feel good movies and Netflix binges are a ritual. It makes them feel normal despite everything that's going on.

N – Nicknames (Things they call each other)

A classic, but I feel like Colt calls MC a shortened version of their name that MC only lets him and her father get away with. Sometimes, baby or babe for both of them. MC calls Colt ‘Golden Child’ which is the actual meaning of his surname. She wanted something sweet but meaningful so she decided to look up the meaning of his name.

O – One (Tell us about the moment they realised they were with the one.)

I think MC knew early on, but she didn't know if Colt liked her back. He had so many walls up, it was scary for MC to show her feelings. The bond they shared over their parental problems made them closer and when it helped MC see him in a new light, that was the moment. There was so much more to him than his dry humour. Colt was hesitant to even come to terms that he liked MC, so he suppressed all his feelings because he thought it made him seem vulnerable. However, one day he saw MC just laughing with the gang, how carefree and beautiful she was and all his feelings came rushing towards him. That's when he realised he couldn't live without that light in his life.

P – Pizza (What is their favourite food to eat together?)

I feel like they’re a Mac n Cheese type of couple. Head-canon that Colt is the best cook and MC is always bugging him to make this or that. Sometimes, to treat him or surprise him, she decides to make something for him, whether or not the food is actually good doesn’t matter (at first) because Colt finds the gesture too sweet. But soon enough, he’ll be teasing her about what she made and how long she took.

Q – Quit (Do they break up? Almost break up? What happened?)

This would also be related to any dangerous decisions and threats that mostly Colt would receive as part of the MPC and also MC not wanting Colt to constantly go out on missions and whatnot. One day, MC gets threatened/put in danger and that makes their relationship rocky. MC and Colt break up, something MC instigates but they eventually come back together with the promise of being more careful.

R – Rainy Days (How do they comfort each other on dark days?)

MC gets stressed a lot with school and her overall relationship with her father (after he found out everything), so MC goes to Colt for comfort. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's touched-starved thanks to his childhood with Kaneko as a father, but it makes him give the best hugs because he just likes the feeling of MC in his arms. When Colt is having a frustrated day with the MPC or Kaneko his first instinct is to say nothing because growing up Kaneko never cared and made him feel like it was better to keep your feelings hidden. The more he’s around MC, he’s encouraged to tell her and not bottle it up. MC lets Colt rest his head on her lap while she runs her fingers through his hair, whispering reassuring words to him. This is how the MPC often find the two of them, with Colt asleep in MC’s lap and MC in an awkward position on the couch.

S – Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush.)

Colt low-key loves how MC is constantly showering him in love physically, she’s always trying to make sure she’s touching him at some point, whether that’s through a hug, holding hands or simply just leaning on one another. He secretly loves it and finds her sort of clingy behaviour cute. MC loves how Colt has opened up to her more and let his walls down. He’s a lot more affectionate in terms of how he speaks. He easily says ‘I love you’ to her and is often found admiring MC when she’s not looking, not afraid to stare at her anymore.

T – Texting (Do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?)

MC hates calling people and prefers texts, so she texts Colt a lot, especially when she’s in awkward situations or when she’s alone. He probably snaps pics of the MPC gang looking dumb and sends it with a snarky text to make MC laugh. When they do talk over the phone, they always end with “I love you/I love you too” because they never want to take anything for granted especially with how unsafe being associated with MPC is.

U – Unique (Tell us about some of their odd habits that surprised one another.)

MC being surprised at his neat apartment and life, thinking he’d be a messy bad boy. She’s also quite taken aback by Colt’s ability to completely hog the sheets at night and often wakes up barely covered by the duvet, having to drag it all back from him. Colt being surprised at MC’s productive and innovative ways while being really lazy. She also has funny sleeping habits and he has a love-hate relationship with how MC always ends up suffocating him in her sleep somehow, whether that’s by lying on top of him in some way or throwing her limbs about haphazardly.

V – Vanity (Something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner.)

MC’s proud of how determined she is because she wants to do something important with her life because that’s what her mother would’ve wanted. Even though MPC isn’t entirely that, she does a lot in college to hopefully better her community. She’s also proud of how strong Colt became despite his childhood. His confidence is also alluring even if others think it’s narcissistic. Colt is proud of his development because before, he did everything to please his father, but now he knows his own worth. He’s proud of how far he’s come. He loves how MC sees the good in people, before he used to think it was naive of her. Now, he realises it makes him fall in love with MC all over again because she’s the goodness he needed his whole life. She believed in him when no one else did.

W – Wedding (Tell us about your wedding head canon if they’ve gotten that far. Or if not, have they talked about it?)

It was already a big step admitting their feelings for each other, so marriage is FAR from being on their minds. Personally, they don’t enjoy labels that much either or a contract of some sort. However, if they did get married, Colt would prefer the smallest most inconspicuous wedding possible, trying to keep it simple. MC and Colt would definitely entertain the idea of eloping because it seems like a very ‘them’ kind of thing to do, if anything, they wouldn’t be able to wait for the honeymoon stage and would want all the legalities out of the way to just be together.

X – X (Something they hate about the other.)

Colt tends to not tell MC about bad MPC related situations because he wants to keep her safe and handle it himself, but MC hates it because she doesn’t like to be out of the loop and they’re supposed to trust each other and should be able to tell each other everything. Colt doesn’t like how MC is willing to put herself the line for anyone. He doesn’t want her to get hurt, Colt himself does it for his dad but MC is ready to sacrifice herself and put herself in harm's way for just about anyone because she’s so selfless and compassionate.

Y – YouTube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

They are both the type of person that posts funny videos and memes that go viral every now and then on their social media. MC would probably post all types of pictures and videos mainly of Colt whereas he would be the type to post a photo of the two of them every now and then but with no caption which ends up getting a load of cheesy comments and the MPC gang teasing him too.

Z – Zoo (Are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?)

MC isn’t an animal person and never has been, but Colt loves huskies a lot. Plus, any animal around him naturally gravitates towards him, and they end up warming his heart and the witty, standoffish Colt turns into a big softie. Colt slowly converts MC to the animal loving side, with MC unable to resist the two puppy dog eyes staring back at her whenever Colt is around a dog. Soon enough, they’re taking monthly trips to the local shelters and end up becoming regulars with both the staff and the animals eager to see them.

By: Ifraah and Khadijah

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dwight-and-mary · 5 years ago

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Knives Out ❣ Summer, Dwight, and Mary

Parents Week

Evans Family

Summer, Dwight, and Mary

*Summer tells her parents the terrible truth about Jason. They are there to hold her as she finally let’s out the grief.

@summerxevans

Mary had the distinct feeling that Summer was avoiding them. Not physically of course but there was something between them. It had been difficult for her and her daughter to connect since.. well since the accident, but not to this extent. Maybe it was the conversation they'd had with Sky earlier in the day, but she was beginning to get a sinking feeling that there was more to come from her children. She looked over and up at her Dom, her husband and reached out for his hand as he knocked on Summer's door. Dwight arched a brow at Mary as she took her hand. She looked worried about something. "Don't worry Mar, Sky is fine. I know you worry, but..." "It's not that..." Obviously she was concerned and not entirely convinced they shouldn't bring their boy home with them, but that wasn't causing her trepidation just then. "It's..." She didn't get to finish because the door opened.

Summer was getting ready for dinner with her family, her hair in a high ponytail as she exfoliated her face. She heard the knock at the door and frowned, weird.... she wasn't expecting anyone. She quickly rinsed her face off and went to the door to answer it, surprised to see her parents on the other side. "Mom, Dad! I thought we were meeting at Sam and Blaine's for dinner." She said, confused. "I haven't finished getting ready yet... but you can come in and hang out for a bit...?" She suggested.

"Hi Sunshine." Dwight let go of Mary's hand so that he could gently pull Summer in by her shoulders to kiss her forehead. "Well we've had some time with Sam on his own and you know Sky will make sure he gets his time. We wanted to make sure you got some time too." He slung an arm around her and walked into her suite. "Have I told you how happy I am you're with your brothers now." He left the and away from that Jason out of it. "How are liking this place huh? Sky seems to think it's just about the best place ever." He chuckled. Mary let Dwight talk. She tried to examine her daughter without appearing to do so. She looked thin. And she was even more quiet with her than she remembered.

Summer blinked at Dwight's affections, a little alarmed. The last time she'd seen her parents, they'd been fighting about her choice to go to school with Jason and it hadn't ended on a very good note. Dwight didn't have to say it, but she could tell he was thrilled she'd left him. He'd been right all along about him and she felt bad for doubting him. She swallowed and shrugged. "Um... it's all right, I guess." She answered. "I like being near Sam and Sky." She added, genuinely also very happy she was with her brothers again as well. "The classes are harder, though."

It was no secret with the kids that Dwight hadn't been the best student in the world. "Just do your best. That's all anyone can do right?" He sat down on the sofa. "You're room is good. Sky's is kinda small if you ask me, but damn if he kid doesn't love it." "Dwight. Language." Mary tutted. She finally went to her daughter. Things had been so strained since she choose to go to school with Jason. And even before that. There had been a wall between them for so long. It was an ache that she'd almost gotten used to. She pulled Summer into her arms. "I've missed you Sunshine Girl." I've missed you for so long, she thought to herself.

Summer nodded, "I'll do my best." She promised. She wasn't anything super stellar in the academics department, but she had usually averaged the best grades out of the three of them simply because Sam couldn't read very well and Sky was... well, Sky. She smiled at the mention of her little brother, "Well, he gets to have a bunk bed, so..." She chuckled, glad that such a small thing as a bunk bed could still bring joy to his life. She looked up when her mom started to move, and suddenly she felt herself wrapped up in her hug and she had to really fight not to completely lose composure now. She'd spent over a year - a long year - longing for this and she hadn't even known it. It took her a moment, but eventually she wrapped her own arms around Mary and sniffed, blinking away the tears threatening to form. "Missed you too, Mom." She said softly.

Dwight laughed. "Never knew a kid who loved bunk beds more." He watched as the two hugged, knowing Mary had really needed this. In a lot of ways he connected to Summer more, but Mary loved her daughter so deeply. She hated that things had been tense. When she pulled back Mary could see the tears in Summer's eyes. "Oh sweat heart." She gently swiped her thumb along her cheekbones. "What's wrong?" She hugged her again. "I'm sorry. I should have come to visit you at that other school. Should have called. I've been too proud."

The answer to what wasn't wrong might have been shorter, she wanted to tell her. But instead she just sank onto the couch next to her Dad and wiped at her eyes. She didn't know what to say... "It's okay..." She sniffed, "You were needed elsewhere, anyway." She couldn't honestly say it hadn't hurt when her parents hadn't signed up to visit her at her old school, but it had also happened during a busy time for the Evans and Summer knew that logistically, it wasn't feasible for them to visit her there that week. "You were right..." She said eventually, to both of them. "I shouldn't have gone there with him."

Dwight looked up at Mary when Summer sat down next to him. He put his arm around her. "We could have changed Sky's appointment." He remembers the week. They had visited an institute for young people with special needs and he'd worked a double shift before going to a concert at Stevie and Scotty's school. But they could have changed some of that couldn't they? "Jason? Summer, honey, did something happen?" He did his best to keep any anger at Jason out of voice. Mary dipped her head in shame. Had they always put Sky ahead of her needs. But her head snapped up at Dwight's question. She a little sick as she sat on Summer's other side and also put her arm around her. "I know... well guess dad and I didn't do a very good job of hiding how we felt about Jason... But you we never wanted to be right. I'd take you being happy over us being right any day and twice on Sunday."

She was immediately shaking her head. "Sky's more important." She said, repeating the mantra she'd told herself every day since the accident. Summer's voice wavered a little as she answered her father's question. "Um... well, he...." This was hard to talk about. She'd suppressed her emotions around Jason and everything he did for so long that she wasn't sure how to even talk about it anymore. "He changed... and not for the better." She decided to say. It was a vast understatement. It had happened gradually once he had gotten her away from her family, essentially isolating her, and he had supported her when she said she didn't know how to talk to her parents anymore and told her if she didn't know how to, then don't. She wishes now that she'd called them more often...

Dwight opened his mouth to respond, but it was Mary who spoke. "That isn't true. Oh sweet heart, I know, I know how much time and effort I've devoted to Sky." There are so many reasons for that. Some of them are absolutely reasonable and unavoidable, but the truth is there are some that aren't and are about her fear of losing him, about how close they'd come to losing him. But none of it should have kept her from being the mother Summer needed. "You are just as important. All of you are the most important people in the world to us." They had grown apart in so many ways that it had been too easy to let things slide. Her heart dropped down into her stomach. For the worse How could Jason get worse than when they'd been around him. She opened her mouth to talk, but this time it was Dwight who beat her to it. "Sunshine... Look at me sweat heart. What did he do? What happened?You can tell us." Damn if part of him really didn't want to know. It scared the crap out of him, but they needed to know. He just hoped it wasn't as bad as his imagination was coming up with.

Summer heard Mary's words, but they didn't really sink in. Sky was more important. She had known that since she was 13, and had made peace with it. It was a fact. But she didn't argue. She was tired of arguments. It was only when Dwight spoke that she looked up again, meeting his eyes and immediately crumbling into tears. She wiped at her eyes again, teting to compose herself to talk. After a moment, she drew a breath and started talking. "It was... um.... it was just little things. At first." She said, "He got angry a lot. The pressures of school were getting to him I think..." she shrugged. "So um... I kinda started seeing other people. Because I wanted to get experience and learn more y'know? Do more scenes and whatnot... and then um." She swallowed again. "And then I got p-pregnant." She whispered. "I-it could only have been Jason's." She added. "But a couple weeks after he found out I'd been doing scenes with other people. And... well I hadn't told him yet so he was really rough that night and um... I uh... I lost the baby." She finished, her head low and her shoulders trembling.

It wasn't as bad as Dwight imagined. It was worse. So much worse. His free hand clenched in a fist. He needed to punch that bastard in the face. But in the state she was in he knew Summer would take the anger as directed toward her. Mary's eyes filled with tears. She'd made her little girl vulnerable to that animal. The tiny crack in their relationship had been just what he'd needed to create a rift with her stuck on his side. And she thought of all the times she'd worried about how much more... free sexually than she was comfortable with. He'd sensed that as well she thinks. Used it to shame and abuse Summer. She pulled the girls slumped over body to her own wrapping her arms around her. "Shhh.... Oh, sweetheart. Sweetie... He hurt you so much." Her heart clenched thinking about the grandbaby that never got the chance to come into this world. She looked over Summer's shoulder tears running down her cheek, shaking her head. How had they missed this. Why hadn't they kept her safe(edited)

She knew as soon as she'd said it that she'd broken her mother's heart, and her father looked no better off. All she could do now was cry... and she had no idea how long it had been since she'd had a really good cry like this but man oh man did she ever need it. Summer curled tighter into her mom's embrace, finally accepting her affections fully because even she didn't really deserve it, she needed it, and she was selfish like that sometimes.

Something seemed to have broken free in Summer. Mary couldn't remember the last time she had seen her daughter cry. She held her tight and started to rock her back and forth, rubbing her back and making soothing nonsense noises. "I've got you my Sunshine Girl. I've got you. We love you." Dwight rested his big strong hand on his daughter's back, a steadying presence in the storm. Later he would shake and rage, ready to jump into the car and drive to wherever Jason was and beat him senseless. But right now he just needed to be strong for Summer.

It was a long few minutes that Summer just cried, taking comfort in both of her parents' presence. She'd spent a lot of years pushing her parents away, but she knew she needed them now more than she ever had before. It was kind of nice, actually, to be the centre of their attention for once.

Mary started to hum an old folk tune her mother had sung to her when she was hurt. Rubbing her back and rocking. She wondered how long Summer had held all of this in. He thinks it's longer than just since this horrible event, this horrible violence. "We've got you Sunshine. No matter what." Dwight wanted to take this grief away from her, but he knew that wasn't the way life worked. However he also knew that the world had tested the Evans before; had done everything it could to tear them down. It couldn't be done because through it all they stuck together. They would get Summer through this.

#summer #parents week #[knives out]#tw: abuse #tw: miscarriage

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jjongorable · 6 years ago

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Depth Over Distance

pairing: wontaek rating: PG-13 word count: ~7.9k

The many times Wonsik figures he’s in love with his roommate. Because there’s a lot. But Wonsik tells himself that a crush won’t last for eleven months.

I mean, he’s not wrong.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

ao3

[1]

Wonsik is running late, but he’s always late so he knows Hongbin won’t mind too much. Hongbin who always makes him pay for their lunch despite being the son of some rich lawyer Wonsik’s never met. Hongbin who spins his lines about Wonsik being older and whatnot. But if you asked Wonsik, seven months is an eye blink and Hongbin is just cheap.

Their lunch spot is just a few blocks away, so he really doesn’t need to rush. But Wonsik hasn’t seen his old roommate since the new semester started a month ago, and by some strange twist of emotions he actually misses him. Misses the friend who would go on late night food runs for him when he was too focused on his work and forgot to eat. The friend who almost burned their apartment down because he knocked over a candle when he got too excited playing a damn game. They’d only roomed together for their first two terms at university but if you asked Wonsik, Hongbin was a life-long companion.

So, when his pants are finally buckled and he’s run a lazy hand through his hair, Wonsik sends a quick text saying he’s on his way and then he’s out the door, shoes in his hand because he can save time by putting them on as he walks.

Wonsik is only slightly out of breath when he reaches the coffee shop. He spots Hongbin in their usual spot already, unsurprising since he’s never late to anything. Neither him nor Hongbin drink coffee, but the place offers the best brewed tea and happens to be owned by Hongbin’s grandmother. Which means Wonsik can eat all the pastries he can stuff in his mouth whenever he stops by.

“Did you run here?” Wonsik slips into the seat across from Hongbin and orders a black tea when the waiter passes. He smiles at Hongbin’s raised eyebrow.

“I slightly jogged.”

“So, you ran?”

Wonsik has to keep himself from rolling his eyes, something he never seems to get a rest from when he’s with Hongbin. Much like how Hongbin never seems to stop teasing him when they’re together. “How’s your grandmother?”

“Not here so don’t ask for her special cake.”

Another suppressed eye-roll. “I was genuinely asking about her wellbeing.”

“Oh, like how you genuinely asked about mine?”

“How are you doing, Bin?”

“Fine. Thank you for asking.” It’s barely been two minutes and Wonsik already feels his feet itching to run back out the door. In the past month, Wonsik has almost forgotten, almost, just how much of a handful Hongbin can be when he’s in the mood. But Wonsik has three sisters and Hongbin doesn’t compare. He can handle a bratty nineteen-year-old.

“How’s the semester been treating you so far?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“And?”

Hongbin whines as he reaches across the table to grab at Wonsik’s wrists. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to room with me again.”

“You know I can’t afford even half of your apartment.” That and Wonsik actually likes the opportunities that comes with rooming with someone new each year. He shakes Hongbin’s hands away.

“I’m so lonely. All the time.” Hongbin’s using what he would call his ‘persuasive tone’ but it really just sounds like he’s a four-year-old and it hammers at Wonsik’s ears like a siren.

“Sure. Because your girlfriend and your new gaming system aren’t keeping you busy enough.”

“Nothing like a good ole bromance to top things off.” Wonsik is given the perfect opportunity to ignore Hongbin’s suggestive smirk when the waiter approaches with his tea. He takes a sip, which turns out to be a bad idea as Hongbin continues. “You know, I was thinking about trying out for the school soccer team.”

“With what athletic ability?” Wonsik can barely speak between his laughs and the tea running out of his mouth. He’d forgotten how to swallow.

“Isn’t your new roommate on the soccer team? Can’t he coach me?”

Wonsik reaches for a napkin to dab at the tea he spilled on his clothes. He should make Hongbin buy him a new shirt. “Yes and no.”

“What? Why not?”

“My rule as best roommate is to keep toxic people in my life away from him.”

“How am I toxic?” Hongbin’s voice raises an octave and Wonsik has to keep from covering his ears.

“You’re not.” Wonsik reassures him because he knows that Hongbin’s probably a breath away from fake crying and that would just warrant the unnecessary attention that Hongbin always craves and Wonsik hates. “I just want to keep you two far away from each other.”

“Is it cause I’m too hot and you’re scared I’ll ruin any chances you have with your crush?” Hongbin’s taken up half the table, face resting in his hands as he invades Wonsik’s area. So close Wonsik can see the tiny birthmark just below his left eyebrow.

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Sure, you don’t. Just like you how aren’t blushing right now.”

“I’m not.” Hongbin sits back properly so his shadow isn’t looming over Wonsik, who feels like he can properly breathe again.

“What’s his name?”

“I’m not telling you Taekwoon’s name.” Wonsik curses himself and stands as Hongbin explodes into a fit of laughter, loud and uncaring of the customers now glaring at their table. Wonsik bows awkwardly at the onlookers before pulling Hongbin’s ear.

“Bye Hongbin.”

“What? No, you just got here!”

“And now I’m leaving.” Wonsik grabs his unfinished tea on the table before patting Hongbin’s head twice. “I’ll see you later, Bin.”

“Wonsik, wait. Come back.” Wonsik feels clumsy hands trying to take hold of his wrists and he can barely understand Hongbin with all his dramatic wheezing. “I won’t talk about your gigantic crush on Taekwoon anymore. Just sit back down.”

Wonsik is no match for when Hongbin puts on his best pouty face and pleading voice. It’s also still a bit hard to say no to someone so handsome. So, he sits down again. “Fine.”

“Have you been working on any songs?” Wonsik squints at Hongbin before nodding. He’s worked on a few, but they’re all terribly unfinished and Wonsik isn’t confident in any of them at the moment. He’s been trying to book times at the school’s studio for this semester, but it’s hard convincing the new instructor to keep the rooms open past closing. Wonsik works best during the late hours.

Hongbin gives Wonsik a look that says “will you show me?” So, he takes out his phone and pulls up his demos, scowling when he has to hand it over to Hongbin.

They listen to a few seconds of each, Wonsik trying hard not to give in to his aggressive want to plug his ears with his fingers.

“Stop pouting. These are good.” Hongbin says as he hands him back his phone. “Except you sound like a lovesick puppy.”

“I’m not lovesick,” Wonsik denies with a pout. Because he isn’t. He doesn’t even have a crush.

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Hongbin.”

“Wonsik.” He’s glaring at Hongbin, who simply stares back, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. But a buzzing in Wonsik’s phone diverts both their attention to the device sitting on the table.

*ROOMMATE JUNG TAEKWOON: are you home? left my keys so I can’t get in*

Wonsik shakes his head at the text. This is isn’t the first time either of them have done this. He’d suggest they stop locking the door altogether since they know most everyone in the complex. But he doesn’t think in the long run that it would be a good idea. That could potentially start a bad habit.

“I gotta go,” He says to Hongbin before stuffing his phone in his front pocket.

“Who was that?” Hongbin is too nosy for his own good. He always wants to know information, and for what reason? Wonsik ignores him. Hongbin will figure it out anyway, probably, since he loves playing detective. And sure enough, after just staring at Wonsik as he packs his things, Hongbin clicks his tongue.

“Oh, I know that smile. That’s the lovesick smile. Was that Taekwoon?” Wonsik doesn’t like the way Hongbin’s lips curl around his name, doesn’t like how his voice plays with the syllables.

*TO:: ROOMMATE JUNG TAEKWOON: no but I’ll be back in 5*

“Are you seriously ditching me for the crush?” Wonsik looks up from his phone to see that Hongbin is looking at him smugly, but no true hurt shows anywhere on his face, just amusement.

“I’m leaving. It was nice seeing you.”

“I’m gonna try out for the soccer team!”

“Don’t!” Wonsik yells back before hightailing it the few blocks home. He gave himself five minutes, but he wants to make it home in two.

***

Somehow and for some reason, Wonsik is up before 8am on a no-class Friday and he can’t go back to sleep. So, he’s booked a couple early hours at the studio so that he can go in and mess around on some files and feel like he hasn’t completely wasted his morning.

Just as he passes the kitchen on his way out, snagging a banana to eat on the go, his phone rings.

Wonsik doesn’t even get in a ‘hello’ before Hongbin is trying to blow out his eardrums.

“I tried out for the soccer team!”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t make it.” Hongbin does the wounded pride voice really well, Wonsik thinks as he mindlessly peels his banana. “But guess who I met?”

“Messi?”

“No silly. Taekwoon! He’s super cute. Especially when he’s all riled up.” Eh, Wonsik wouldn’t know, doesn’t think he particularly cares. “Shik, have you seen him all sweaty? He’s got a lot going for him, yknow. I wonder how he looks naked.” Hongbin whispers the last word like it’s scandalous and Wonsik feels the back of his neck start heating.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I introduced myself. I was all ‘hello I’m model/photographer Hongbin and I would love to have you pose for me.’ I used my suave business voice.”

“What suave business voice?”

“Shik, you should’ve seen his face! He got all shy and flustered and flicked my head. He told me to get back on the field, but not until I made him promise to let me shoot him!”

Wonsik pauses, banana hanging out his mouth and jacket half on. “You’re gonna take photos of Taekwoon?”

“Yup!”

“Did you tell him about me? About knowing me?”

“No, you didn’t come up.” Hongbin doesn’t miss a beat, which reassures Wonsik that he didn’t hear the clear panic in his voice. Or if he did, he didn’t catch on.

Wonsik finally gets his jacket on and bends over to do his shoes. He fumbles a bit over where he should put the empty banana peel before chucking it into the trash bin a couple feet away. Smiling, he thinks maybe he should try out for the basketball team.

“Did you want me to?” Hongbin asks, but continues before Wonsik can take another breath, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to talk fondly about you during the photoshoot!”

“No, Hongbin –”

“I’ll only say good things and not talk about that one time we went hiking and you almost –”

“Okay, Bin, I have to go.”

“Why?”

“I’m headed to the studio.”

“Oh, oh. Okay, bye Shik! Don’t write about sweaty Taekwoon!”

***

Two weeks pass in which Wonsik forgets all about the conversation he had with Hongbin. That is until Taekwoon comes out of his room one Saturday morning while Wonsik is watching his morning cartoons, expertly balancing a bowl of cereal on a pillow.

It’d be just another Saturday if Taekwoon was in his after-run comfy apparel usually consisting of an overlarge t-shirt and sweats. But Wonsik discreetly chokes on a noodle going down his throat as his roommate passes him, fussing with one of the cuffs on a blazer Wonsik would kill to own. And Wonsik would say that Taekwoon’s very tight, very ripped jeans might be showing a little too much, leaving not enough to anyone’s imagination. But he’s friends with Hongbin and he’s, unfortunately, seen worse. Or better, if you see things from Hongbin’s point of view. “Skin out, confidence high,” he always says.

“You’re headed out?” Wonsik croaks out, cursing his sensitive throat and overenthusiastic craving for all things spicy.

“Yes.” Taekwoon mumbles, obviously distracted.

“You look…good.”

“Yeah?” Wonsik’s afraid that if he answers to his full abilities, he’d say something that would make them both uncomfortable. Taekwoon smiles when Wonsik simply nods and heads for the door.

“Is it for the photoshoot?” Wonsik continues, because it looks like Taekwoon is about to leave too soon and Wonsik wants to stare just a little bit longer. How many more times will he get to see his roommate all dressed up, he reasons. And besides, eye candy is eye candy, nothing more. He’s allowed to think someone is cute without having it be anything more.

“Hongbin picked out the clothes. I’m surprised he knew my size. I’m convinced he stole my missing gym set.” Shoes on, Taekwoon reaches for his keys off the hook by the door, before looking back at Wonsik. “How did you know? About the photoshoot?”

Wonsik bites his tongue for a moment, assessing the tone of Taekwoon’s voice. He doesn’t sound mad or anything, which is good. Wonsik didn’t overstep any boundaries. He surely doesn’t want Taekwoon to think he’s like snooping in on his personal life or anything. Sure, they live together, but that’s not a straight way ticket to knowing everything about each other. “I’m kind of friends with Hongbin. He told me about it.”

‘Ah.” And with that, Taekwoon opens the door to leave.

“Have fun.” Wonsik yells after him, then proceeds to face palm because wow, did he really just tell Taekwoon to have fun?

Whatever, it’s not important. This conversation was not important, Wonsik repeats over in his head as he returns to his cartoons, upset that he’s missed so much of the plot he has no idea what’s going on. Plus, his noodles are cold now. It’s a perfect way to start his favorite day of the week.

***

Wonsik is sitting at his and Hongbin’s normal spot at the café. It’s one of the rare times that Wonsik arrives before Hongbin, so he’s ordered for the both of them and gotten to work on some homework for a statistics class he’s not sure why he’s even in. Why this course should be required for Music majors is beyond him, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t make the college rules. Oh, how he wishes he made the college rules so that he could just graduate already.

He’s halfway through designing a paired t-test when he hears Hongbin settle across from him.

“Do you want to see the pictures?” No greeting whatsoever, but Wonsik’s gotten used to Hongbin’s lack of formalities.

“No thanks.” He replies quickly, hoping to not lose focus on this problem because it takes him so long to get into a mood to do statistics and he doesn’t want to ruin it. Although, Hongbin couldn’t give two shits about Wonsik’s concentration or grades or anything as he tosses a vanilla folder right on top of Wonsik’s work.

“Anyway, here they are! He did really well.” Hongbin sounds proud, so Wonsik plays the part of the good friend he is, and that Hongbin isn’t, and looks through the photos. They really are magazine grade quality and Wonsik doesn’t know if he should attribute that to Hongbin’s amazing photography skills or Taekwoon’s obvious affinity for modelling.

“Of course he did.” Wonsik says a little breathless, stopping at a photo where Taekwoon’s staring right at the camera, gaze piercing and seeming as if he’s looking through Wonsik’s entire being. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Is he now?” Hongbin’s voice rises playfully at the end, suggesting things Wonsik doesn’t feel like talking about right now.

“I don’t have to be crushing on someone to recognize beauty.”

“Except you are crushing on him.”

“Please,” Wonsik refutes, “That’s like having a crush on you.” He finally tears his focus away from the photos and back to Hongbin, who’s facial expression is intolerable at the moment.

“Except you did have a crush on me.”

Wonsik chooses to ignore Hongbin’s very true statement and tries to hand him back the folder. Hongbin shakes his head and pushes it away.

“You can keep them. I printed them for Hakyeon, but I have extras.”

“Uhm. Thanks?” Wonsik doesn’t know what he would do with the pictures, though, and just stuffs the folder into his bag. He’ll deal with them later. “Who’s Hakyeon?”

“What do you mean ‘Who’s Hakyeon’? He’s Woonie’s best friend.” Wonsik tries hard not to cringe at the nickname while he searches the “Information About Roommate Taekwoon” folder in his mind. Nothing about a best friend or a Hakyeon comes up and Wonsik frowns.

“Best friend?”

“He even came with him to the photoshoot. How do you not know this? You’re his roommate.” Hongbin sounds as exasperated as Wonsik feels incompetent. “Anyway, if Taekwoon finds the photos before you confess, just say that I gave them to you to give to him and you just forgot.”

“I’m not going to confess.”

“Confess what?”

“That I like him.” Hongbin visibly perks up at that and Wonsik flinches. He knew the moment the words left his mouth that he said the wrong thing, that Hongbin would take his words and twist them to incriminate him in whichever way he chose. Wonsik figures Hongbin should just go into law if what he’s pursuing now doesn’t pan out.

“So you do like him! Now, was that so hard to admit?”

“I didn’t admit anything.” Wonsik defends. Hongbin only quirks an eyebrow, his disbelief obvious.

Wonsik sags his shoulders. He could have this argument with Hongbin again, but he’s suddenly just so tired and maybe even a little disappointed in himself. He starts packing his things, oblivious to the look Hongbin’s giving him.

“Bin, I’m –”

“I know, I know. You’re leaving.” Hongbin stands up before pulling Wonsik into a tight hug. “Bye, bye lovebird. Go learn some shit about Taekwoon.”

[2]

It’s close to 10:30 when Wonsik gets a text from Taekwoon saying he’s headed home from practice. Wonsik’s planned on staying a little longer at the studio so he tells him not to wait up. What he doesn’t expect is Taekwoon showing up 30 minutes later with food and a blanket hanging off his shoulders.

“I know you haven’t eaten since you’ve been in here. And a ‘little longer’ always translates to five hours later. So, I came to keep you company and make sure you leave by midnight.” Wonsik raises a questioning eyebrow. “Hongbin’s orders.” And it all clicks into place. Except he didn’t know that Taekwoon and Hongbin had become such fast friends that they’re scheming together now.

“Since when were you two so buddy-buddy?”

“We aren’t.” Taekwoon says as he sets the food down next to Wonsik’s station. “I just ran into him when I was leaving practice and he asked about you. And then made me promise to do this or he would try out for the team again.” Wonsik’s stomach grumbles at the smell and he thinks despairingly how he doesn’t ever realize how hungry he is till presented with food.

“How was he, by the way? I never asked.”

“About as good as you’d suspect. He just kept trying to hit the ball with his head. Every time. Like some kind of kangaroo.” Taekwoon stretches himself across the couch, blanket now draped over himself, and crosses his arms over his eyes. Wonsik feels bad that he has to be here babysitting instead of home in his bed. This is usually about the time Taekwoon turns in since he has early morning workouts with his team right before his 9am class. But there’s still that bubbling in his chest that tells Wonsik he’s happy Taekwoon is here. That he’s not alone. And since he now has company, he can get a second opinion on what he’s working on. He’s got only about a minute finished, but it’s been hours at work and he’s eager for any advice. Because he still feels like there’s something he’s missing.

“Hey, Taekwoon?” Taekwoon hums so that Wonsik knows he’s listening, moving his arms down a bit to show his eyes. “Can you listen to this really quick? It’s just what I’ve been working on.”

Wonsik presses play and lets the composition fill the studio. He studies Taekwoon’s face as he listens and tries to interpret the emotions that flit across his stoic features.

When it’s finished, Wonsik holds his breath for Taekwoon to speak. He’s always nervous letting others listen to his unpolished work, but it’s usually worth it if he’s able to gain something in the end.

“It’s good.” Taekwoon says with a nod, and Wonsik exhales. However, Taekwoon has his finger in his mouth, which Wonsik has come to know means he’s contemplating. And he wouldn’t have to think so hard unless there was something wrong. Wonsik stops himself from deflating because this is exactly the reason he had Taekwoon listen in the first place. He’s stuck and he needs fresh ears.

“But, there’s still something off?”

“There’s still something off.” Taekwoon echoes as he sits up, bringing his hands together to rest beneath his chin. He stares at Wonsik’s computer for a moment, eyes squinting, before untangling himself from the blanket and coming to lean over Wonsik’s shoulder. “How about you switch the A melody with C? Since you open up so big, you hardly give anyone anything to look forward to. It starts with a bang and just kind of simmers out.”

It takes Wonsik a couple seconds to get over the way Taekwoon’s breaths roll over his ear before he registers what was said. But he thinks that might be it and inside he hopes that when he plays this back it sounds like exactly what he needs.

And it does. Especially when Taekwoon starts lowly humming random words to the melody and Wonsik probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly and in shock, but he’d never thought Taekwoon would be into singing.

“I didn’t know you sing.”

“I don’t.” Taekwoon denies before stepping away from Wonsik and sitting once again on the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“You should.”

“Why? So you can feature me in all your songs?” It’s not a bad idea, Wonsik thinks. He sings all his demos, but he’s not a singer and he’s always wanted to have someone with a lighter voice layer over his instrumentals. He even thinks about how interesting the contrast between his and Taekwoon’s voices would be in a full song.

“You’d be good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Taekwoon stretches a bit and settles deeper into the cushions. “Just switch the melodies and whatever else you need to do tonight. I want to go home.”

Wonsik frowns. “You can just go, yknow.”

“And have Hongbin at one of my practices?” Taekwoon raises his eyebrows, eyes still closed. “No thanks. The captain already thinks he’s hot.”

Turning back to his screen, Wonsik shrugs. “He is hot.”

“Not the point.”

Wait. “Aren’t you the captain?”

Taekwoon smiles. “Not the point.”

***

“Taekwoon thinks you’re hot.”

“Of course he does.” Wonsik tries to monitor Hongbin’s reaction over the rim of his textbook, but he seems particularly unbothered by the comment, not even glancing away from organizing his portfolio. “I’m Lee Hongbin. Master of beauty and grace and –”

“Modesty.” Wonsik finishes with a frown. He wonders how Hongbin has managed to keep his confidence being a freelance model. Aren’t photographers and editors supposed to make you feel like shit about your appearance all the time?

“Oh, Shikkie I’m sorry. Do you want Taekwoon to think you’re hot too?” Hongbin props his head on the back of his hand, finally looking at Wonsik with an air of mischief. “I can just ask him.”

“I’m good, thanks.” But Hongbin already has his phone out, fingers tapping away and completely disregarding Wonsik’s panicked whispers of protest.

“Woonie . . . do you think . . . that . . . Shikkie is hot? There done.” Hongbin sets his phone down and Wonsik hides his face in his hands, although he’s pretty sure Hongbin’s can still see how red he’s turning. “He’ll reply in like two seconds since he’s already seen it and he’s not like you who takes forever and always leaves me on read.”

“I don’t wanna know.” Wonsik mumbles into his hands. He really doesn’t.

“What if he says yes?”

Groaning, Wonsik lowers his hands to glare at Hongbin, but he isn’t even paying looking at him anymore, focus turned back to his portfolio.

“Then he says yes.” Wonsik settles. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Hongbin shrugs, switches a couple photos around. “It means everything to you.”

Wonsik doesn’t get the chance to refute Hongbin’s statement because then his phone goes off and Wonsik’s feels his stomach drop. Hongbin’s eyes travel sideways to read the notification.

“Don’t tell –”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“That’s what he said. Very curt.”

“Just because he thinks I’m hot doesn’t mean he likes me. He just appreciates –”

“Beauty.” Hongbin finishes mockingly. “Yeah, yeah whatever. I get it. At least you’ve got that because we both know he wouldn’t fall for your gentlemanlike ways. Maybe we should work on that.” He says, sparkle in his eyes at the thought of a new project.

“Or, maybe we should just drop it.” Wonsik dismisses. “I don’t like him anyway.”

“You can deny it now all you want, but your little puppy eyes and pouty lips says otherwise.” Then suddenly, very seriously, he adds, “Just don’t fall in love buddy.”

“With who? My roommate?” Wonsik knows that’s who Hongbin’s referring to, who he always refers to. But he’s just a bit tired of his best friend assuming things about feelings he’s not even sure about yet. “Please, Bin. That’s not going to happen.”

“Just don’t do it. Not with him.” Hongbin holds his gaze until their attention is drawn to Wonsik’s buzzing phone. “Speak of the devil. It’s him, isn’t it?” Wonsik nods, accepting the call.

“Taekwoon?”

“Are you busy?” Taekwoon asks with no preamble. Wonsik flicks his gaze to Hongbin.

“No. I’m not busy. What’s up?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“What?” Hongbin raises an eyebrow in question but Wonsik can only shrug, mouthing ‘I don’t know.’ Taekwoon wants to go somewhere with him? Did he accidentally call the wrong person? They’ve never been anywhere together other than the corner store to pick up “groceries.”

“I wanted to go to the zoo because one of the new baby pandas are being shown today.”

“Uhm. Okay.” Taekwoon doesn’t speak, seemingly waiting for Wonsik to say something more…cohesive? But Wonsik is sure he never asked about Taekwoon’s plans today, so he doesn’t know why they’re having this conversation. “Uh?”

“Can you come with me?” Oh.

“Can I. . .” Wonsik’s brain short-circuits. He lowers his phone and stares at Hongbin, eyes wide. “He wants me to go with him to the zoo?”

“So, go?”

“I. . .” Wonsik’s brain still hasn’t recovered from the initial shock and he can’t manage an excuse to not go. But, wrapping his mind around the stark randomness of it all is taking longer than he would like. It’s Tuesday. He didn’t know people even went to the zoo on Tuesdays. Wait, do they? Hongbin’s face offers no answers so Wonsik guesses he can just find out today. With Taekwoon. Together, like a kind of Indiana Jones movie, Wonsik thinks. No, that’s not right movie, but he can’t really think straight now. He’ll figure it out later.

Wonsik brings the phone back to his ear, hands shaking. And he’s not sure if he’s speaking clearly but he guesses whatever he’s said has been understood because Taekwoon thanks him softly before disconnecting the call.

Wonsik pockets his phone, looking at Hongbin apologetically. “I’m sorry to leave so suddenly.” They still don’t get to meet often, but Wonsik’s roommate duty calls. He knows Taekwoon would do the same for him. He thinks. Maybe. He doesn’t actually know.

Hongbin waves away his apology, but Wonsik take stock of his tight smile and figures that there’s a lot he won’t say till he thinks Wonsik is ready to hear it.

Wonsik packs his things and squeezes Hongbin’s shoulder as he passes.

Wonsik ignores Hongbin’s low mumble, unsure if he was even supposed to hear it at all. But it sounded like something along the lines of “falling in love with your roommate” and Wonsik doesn’t mind pretending Hongbin never said anything.

***

They’re on the line headed to the zoo and for once it’s not overcrowded. That’s mostly due to the fact that it’s 2pm on a Tuesday and a majority of responsible human beings are either at work or school, not going on some spur of the moment trip to the zoo. But Wonsik guesses it’s not that spontaneous for Taekwoon since he’d said the date with Hakyeon had been made in advance.

Taekwoon’s sitting beside Wonsik, showing none of the nervousness that Wonsik is felling. He’s got his head against the window and is staring at the scenery as it passes. He looks so serene, and it confuses Wonsik how Taekwoon can be so calm even though he’s missing classes, missing practice. It’s then that Wonsik remembers he’s also going to miss is 2pm composition class and he curses softly. He hadn’t even thought of it before agreeing to this. Why didn’t Hongbin remind him before telling him to agree to this? Why did he agree to this?

“Wonsik.” Taekwoon is now standing in front of Wonsik, shaking his shoulder. “This is our stop.”

Wonsik lets Taekwoon lead him out of the station and the couple blocks it takes them to actually get to the zoo entrance. Wonsik panics for a moment at the ticket counter over whether or not he should pay for his own ticket – because it would feel weird to let Taekwoon pay for the both of them even though he is the older of the two – before Taekwoon pulls out the tickets and Wonsik remembers he’s just a fill in for Hakyeon, and that this trip was already planned and that this isn’t a date.

Date?

Not a date.

Wonsik feels a tugging at the hem of his shirt and focuses to see Taekwoon staring at him impatiently, other hand pointing to some place vaguely to the right. “C’mon. I want to see the baby pandas first.”

“Isn’t that on the other end? I saw a sign…” Wonsik whips his head around searching for the signs he saw coming in detailing where to find the baby pandas. Taekwoon pulls at his shirt again.

“I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t we look at a map?” Wonsik feels a prickling of irritation rising and tries to stifle it because they’ve only just arrived, and it won’t do any good to be upset the entire time he’s here.

Taekwoon starts bouncing on the balls of his feet and shrugs. “What fun is that?”

“But,” Wonsik starts, pulling his shirt out of Taekwoon’s hand because his skin is starting to show due to all the movement. “If you want to see them first, then –”

“Sh. Just follow me. We’ll get there.” Taekwoon promises with a smile, grabs his wrist as they head down the tiger path, and Wonsik’s mild irritation dissipates just like that.

Wonsik gets goosebumps from the contact as he’s pulled not too gently this way and that. He doesn’t even register that they’ve gone down the left-most path instead of right-most path, which is actually where the pandas are. But Taekwoon didn’t lie, they do make it to the baby pandas. It’s just after they’ve seen every other creature in residence as well, Taekwoon leading the way, always with a hand around Wonsik’s wrist. He never lets go, simply switches hands when necessary. And Wonsik’s left wondering if this is how Taekwoon is with Hakyeon. With all his friends. Or with everyone he knows. Because he doesn’t know what to think when Taekwoon squeezes his hand out of excitement or when he buries his face in Wonsik’s shirt because the animals are “just too cute” and he can’t handle it.

Taekwoon loves animals, that much is so obvious. And for some reason Wonsik gets the thought in his head that if he had the money, he’d buy Taekwoon all the animals in the world. He doesn’t know the logistics of that, or how they’d manage to take care of them all, but at this moment Wonsik doesn’t particularly care about reasoning. He just cares about keeping the smile on Taekwoon’s face because the way his eyes curl into tiny crescents and his cheeks puff up makes Wonsik’s heart clench and it doesn’t feel too unpleasant.

It’s not till they’re on their way home, Taekwoon’s phone now filled with hundreds of new photos and videos – of the animals, of Wonsik, of both of them – that Taekwoon’s high starts to wear off. He’s calm again, to Wonsik’s benefit because an active Taekwoon is a lot to keep up with, and his head is on Wonsik’s shoulder. Wonsik tries to be as still as a statue so he doesn’t disturb Taekwoon, even though he isn’t even sleeping. Wonsik just hopes his efforts will be appreciated. He’s looking along with Taekwoon as he sifts through all the photos and his stomach flutters when Taekwoon stops at one of them both.

They’re crouching in front of the baby pandas and Taekwoon is looking at the camera, smile big and eyes small, pointing to the small animal over his shoulder. But Wonsik, oblivious to the camera, is just staring at Taekwoon. And Wonsik knows himself enough to know the emotions splattered clear across his face and it makes his chest ache. Wonsik didn’t ask for this, doesn’t even know how it happened. But he knows that sometime between now and when he first met Taekwoon, that tiny flash of attraction became just a tiny bit more.

“Just don’t fall in love buddy,” Hongbin had said.

Wonsik watches Taekwoon swipe through the rest of his pictures and tries not to think about what it is Hongbin knows about Taekwoon that he doesn’t. But maybe it won’t matter that much because in eight months’ time he and Taekwoon won’t be roommates anymore and his tiny little crush will just be history.

He’s jerked out of his thoughts when Taekwoon grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

“Thank you for coming with me.” For a moment Wonsik doesn’t know what to say when Taekwoon looks up at him sleepily, face full of gratitude. But he relents, squeezes Taekwoon’s hand and smiles.

“You’re welcome.”

[3]

Usually when he’s working, Wonsik is accompanied by a silence that’s welcomed and appreciated, comforting like a hug. But today – or tonight, in the studio he can never tell, and he refuses to check the time – Wonsik can’t function beyond the suffocating blankness that’s cloaked his thoughts, restricting his creative flow.

And he doesn’t know why or how long he’s been simply staring at the wall, but he can’t get himself to stop or move or do anything other than breathe. And stare.

College is just hard, he decides.

It’s a thought he lets sit with him in the silence, since it seems to be the only one he’s allowed access to at the moment. College is hard, Wonsik muses, because he’s here for all the wrong reasons. No, that doesn’t make any sense because Wonsik is doing what he’s always wanted to do – he’s making music. For a grade, but music nonetheless. That’s not it.

It’s hard because he misses home. He misses his mom’s cooking and teasing his younger sister. Except he goes home often and his sister messages him every day. His mom even sends him care packages every month, always including a short note from his father because the man doesn’t take a particular liking to modern technology. So, that’s not it either.

Wonsik rests his elbows on his knees, brings his hands just underneath his chin and signs. He’s in a slump and he’s just got to accept it. Does he really need an explanation to why his brain decided to short-circuit randomly on him? He doesn’t.

But Wonsik also doesn’t want the last few hours of his life to seem like they’ve gone to waste, so he picks up his lyric book, opens to a page that’s already been written on and . . . he groans, head lowering till he’s made contact with the desk and he sighs. He just can’t keep himself from making the small noises of frustration. College is hard.

“What are you trying to get at, brain?” Wonsik mutters lowly and lets his arms fall to hang by his side defeatedly, his fingertips almost touching the ground from both the low set of his chair and his slumped position. “Just tell me so we can work past this together, yes? Yknow, as a team? You and me. We’re supposed to be in this thing together. Stop blocking me you piece of shit.” Wonsik cringes at his rudeness and apologizes to himself. This wasn’t a time to be rude, even to a mind that wouldn’t do what he wanted.

“Maybe I should call it a night,” Wonsik mumbles.

“I agree.” It’s almost comical the way Wonsik jumps when he hears Taekwoon’s voice, soft but still enough to jar the silence that’s settled in the room. Wonsik turns to see him leaning in the doorway, hands tucked away into his pockets and face slightly hidden by the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

“What are you doing here?”

“Retrieving you.” Taekwoon says, reminding Wonsik of the last time this happened.

“Hongbin’s orders?” Taekwoon grunts at his question, neither confirming nor denying the accusation in Wonsik’s voice. Instead of answering, he stretches his arms above his head and yawns. Wonsik watches the way Taekwoon’s fingers curl and the small O his mouth makes around the yawn. Everything in Wonsik is screaming at him to take Taekwoon and tuck him into bed, nice and warm and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. He figures that’s probably a common response everyone has to seeing Taekwoon sleepy and soft.

“Wonsik, do you know what time it is?” Wonsik blinks, torn out of his daze and shakes his head. His phone is buried somewhere beneath all the papers strewn across his work station. “It’s past 3am.” Taekwoon offers before Wonsik finds the phone and confirms, a low curse escaping his lips. He has a 9am tomorrow, but he reasons – working to not send himself into a panic – that he’s done much more on less sleep.

“Did you –”

“I couldn’t really sleep.” Taekwoon says, dismissing Wonsik’s worries that he had stayed up waiting for him. “I got up and saw that you weren’t home and put two and two together from earlier when you said you’d be here.” Wonsik’s heart does a little skip as he thinks about Taekwoon worrying about him. But he tells himself that worrying about a roommate is normal. He worried about Hongbin all the time when they were roommates. It comes with the arrangement. “You’re always here.”

“Or with Hongbin.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Well, I’m here now so it doesn’t really matter much. But, I would like to get back home now.” Wonsik realizes that’s his queue to start packing his things. It doesn’t take long for him to shut down the computer and grab his stuff and when he’s ready he just stares at Taekwoon waiting for him by the door.

Wonsik’s broken out of his trance when Taekwoon turns, walking into the hallway and leaving Wonsik to turn off the light and lock the door.

“What were you working on?” Taekwoon asks as they fall into step beside each other. Wonsik is both thankful and disappointed that the hallway is wide enough to keep their arms from accidentally bumping.

“Nothing.” He answers truthfully, fatigue finally making its way into his speech.

“Was it a song about me?” Taekwoon glances sideways at him, voice laced with amusement Wonsik is way too tired to combat. “Hongbin told me about the…sweat thing.”

“Sweat thing? What sweat –” Wonsik’s eyes widen when the memory comes back to him. “Oh my god I’m gonna kill him.” He doesn’t sound very menacing between his yawns and slurring. Taekwoon doesn’t think so either if the smile on his face is anything to go by. “That was all his idea.”

“I’d like to hear it one day.” Taekwoon says, elbow coming out slightly to bump Wonsik.

Wonsik shakes his head violently, a bad idea since his vision blurs. “It’s not happening.” He staggers a little to the left and Taekwoon grabs his arm to keep him from falling, fingers wrapped securely around Wonsik’s upper arm. His hand feels nice, warm. Wonsik is sure he’s smiling stupidly, but he can just blame it on the exhaustion later when he’s more coherent, and if Taekwoon asks about it.

“Maybe I could write something about you and it be a duet.” Taekwoon jokes, leading them out the building and into the frigid outside air.

“It’s not happening.” At this point, Wonsik can barely keep his eyes open. His tiredness mixed with the biting wind just makes him want to curl into a ball and never unwind.

He’s completely shameless when he presses into Taekwoon, flushes when Taekwoon wraps his arms around him to bring him closer. Wonsik forgot his jacket in the studio and Taekwoon is just so warm. Warm all the way home, till he’s tucked into his bed and Taekwoon turns off his light.

***

Despite having been roommates for three months, Wonsik realizes that he’s actually never seen Taekwoon sweaty. Until now. And it’s not what he expected when he walked out of his room still half asleep and craving coffee. Taekwoon’s in the kitchen chugging a glass of water, clearly just back from his weekend morning run that Wonsik is never awake early enough for. Taekwoon’s usually already showered and lounging on their couch by the time Wonsik deems himself human enough to navigate out of bed.

Wonsik is staring unabashedly, he knows he is, and it’s a good thing Taekwoon is turned slightly away from him so he isn’t caught. Because that would be embarrassing, Wonsik thinks, to be caught ogling your very hot, very sweaty roommate. And Wonsik decides at that moment that, yes, Taekwoon is not only gorgeously beautiful, but he’s absolutely fucking sexy as well. Which annoys him because it means he’s going to now have to deal with five more months of living with someone he is now physically attracted to. Wonsik could deal with gorgeous and beautiful, Hongbin is a goddamn model for heaven’s sake. But Hongbin, even sweaty, never made Wonsik’s throat feel like it’d crack if he didn’t get drink something soon. Hongbin didn’t make Wonsik want to lick beads of sweat that ran down his neck. Hongbin didn’t make Wonsik want to fuck him. Plain and simple. But looking at Taekwoon, Wonsik feels all those things and more and Hongbin’s voice plays in the back of his mind.

I wonder how he looks naked.

Wonsik swallows hard, just as Taekwoon flicks his eyes to the side and sees him. Wonsik waves lamely and turns toward the refrigerator, intent on avoiding his gaze and hoping to cool his very heated face.

“Did I wake too early or did you get a late start today?” Wonsik hopes that he sounds normal enough, that the residual grogginess from having just awakened masks anything in his voice that could betray him to his roommate. It’s just a crush, he thinks over and over, just a crush. He grabs the cream for his coffee before moving to let the refrigerator close. But, Wonsik’s back makes contact with something much too solid to be just the air he knew should be behind him, and he feels a hand on settle on his waist.

Wonsik knows who to expect, but it still takes his breath away to have Taekwoon so close, so warm, and so goddamn sweaty.

“A bit of both.” Taekwoon speaks right into Wonsik’s ear, leaning into him slightly to grab the coffee cream out of his hands and place it on the counter. Wonsik’s body heats up everywhere he and Taekwoon make contact and the feeling is too much for him. It’s also too damn early in the morning, he thinks. He hasn’t even had his morning coffee yet. Wonsik makes a small noise and reaches for the stolen cream before Taekwoon swats at his hand. “I already brewed a batch.” Taekwoon is practically purring in Wonsik’s ear at this point, puffs of air ghosting across Wonsik’s neck to make him shiver, but the hand at his waist steadily keeping him grounded. This is the most he and Taekwoon have ever touched at one time and the thought is overwhelming. It’s too much. He’s too close.

Wonsik tilts his head a bit away from Taekwoon to relieve the sensation and takes notice of the coffee maker indeed filled with freshly brewed coffee. Smiling, Taekwoon pokes a hand at the crease between Wonsik’s eyebrows, obviously amused with Wonsik’s wide eyes and confused expression.

“I hoped it wouldn’t be cold by the time you woke up.”

Wonsik tries his best not to let too much emotion leak into his words as he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” Taekwoon chuckles in response and runs a finger through Wonsik’s messy fringe before finally taking a step back. Finally letting Wonsik breathe properly again.

“You’re welcome. I’m gonna go shower.”

It’s only as Wonsik is looking at him walking away that he realizes Taekwoon had been shirtless the entire time.

“Fuck, it’s too early for this.”

Turning back to the counter, Wonsik makes his coffee, grumbling to himself all the while – about Taekwoon, about Hongbin, about himself and his stupid feelings – before going to settle on the couch for his morning cartoons. He’s halfway through his mug and another episode of Pororo is starting when Taekwoon makes another appearance, fully clothed this time in plain sweats and a tank, which Wonsik is incredibly thankful for he almost prays into his coffee.

Taekwoon sits himself on the opposite side of the couch before stretching his legs out to rest in Wonsik’s lap. Wonsik lets him because, well, he’s always admired Taekwoon’s soccer legs from afar and the weight feels comforting and he wouldn’t know what to say otherwise if he did push them off. It’s such a platonic act he’s done so many times with Hongbin, so this shouldn’t be a problem. He shouldn’t feel like his heart is trying to jump out of his chest.

Except he almost drops his coffee when, without speaking, Taekwoon reaches for his hand only to place it on his calf. Wonsik is confused until Taekwoon takes his hand and moves it in circular motions, kneading the muscles and it clicks in Wonsik’s head.

“Massage?” He asks softly.

Taekwoon hums in response and closes his eyes, leaning further into the couch.

And that’s how Wonsik spends his morning: Sipping coffee, watching cartoons, and massaging Taekwoon to sleep on their couch.

It’s almost too perfect.

***

“Do crushes usually last this long?”

“No, Shik, they don’t.”

“Fuck.”

Hongbin just sighs, but Wonsik hears everything his best friend isn’t saying. Mostly it’s the ‘I told you so’ that repeats over and over.

#i've been writing all summer and this au is the result and i love it #wontaek #vixx fanfiction #my fic #depth over distance #dod #dod pt 1 #my writing

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