#Anyways I will find that kind and/or kind of separated au someday! Until then at least I found a couple more Leo (including Rise and 2012 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radiorenjun · 3 years

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twisted strings || lee donghyuck

➶ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

➶ genre: angst. angst. JUST ANGST. twisted string soulmate!au, non-idol!au

➶ word count: 3.1k

➶ synopsis: you and donghyuck were one of the rare soulmate couples unlucky enough to be cursed by your own string

➶ warnings: y/n and donghyuck have somewhat of a toxic relationship, mentions of surgery, injuries, drinking, arguments, hyuck being selfish, character death!

➶ a/n: I am not romanticizing or support toxic relationships. This is purely fictional and if you do not like such topics, kindly move on. Have a good day.

➶ based on the song 'Evelyn, Evelyn' by Evelyn Evelyn

“Y/N.”

“Donghyuck.”

God makes mistakes sometimes. One of the greatest mistakes was the soulmate system. It is often believed that if you meet your soulmate before the age of 14, you were set for a doomed relationship. Unfortunately for you and Lee Donghyuck, you found each other when you both were only 5 years old. Upon meeting each other for the first time, the string tied to your pinkies had intertwined the both of your hands together, making it impossible for the two of you to physically separate.

The day you met Donghyuck was considerably one of the worst moments of your life. You were both trapped in each other's special bond. The string that was supposed to connect the two of you together became a cage, one that you could not get out of until death tears you apart. Soulmates were supposed to love each other but the twisted string binding the two of you together only made you desire for freedom even more.

“Why do we bother to stay?”

“Why are you running away?”

You two were soulmates after all. The twisted string was a rare phenomenon that only happens to one in 50 million people around the world. You’ve been sticking to each other for so long, you can’t stand being with each other considering you couldn’t have your own privacy anymore. When your parents took you to the doctor back when you were younger, the doctor suggested surgery to remove the bond.

But the risk was too high. Removing your string could result in one of you dying, your parents didn’t want you to go through with it. But as you grow older into your teenage years, your relationship becomes even more unhealthy. Donghyuck was beginning to think the risk of getting the surgery was worth it. While you, on the other hand, all you wanted was to get along with Donghyuck. You didn’t want to run away from your relationship, you wanted to fix it. But unfortunately, Donghyuck didn’t have the same mindset.

“Don’t you feel like severing?”

“Everything’s just come together at last.”

“We’re broken, why would you want to play?”

Donghyuck felt like this life was all just God’s game. An entertainment for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of living by your side at every second of the day, but yet again, you would always turn down his offer of getting the surgery. You were scared. He was too. You both wanted to be happy. Donghyuck felt like the time you spend alone with each other was a complete waste, he rather used his time to do other things like developing talents and doing things he used to enjoy like playing soccer or baking cookies with his mother.

You, however, felt like you should be more grateful for this opportunity. You’ve heard a countless amount of stories about those who lost their soulmates before they could meet them or those who never found their soulmate. You didn’t like the toxicity your relationship holds, but you couldn’t help but hope that maybe one day that things would change between the two of you.

After all, at some point in your lives. There was a time when the two of you actually fell in love with each other.

At least, that’s what you want to believe.

“We grew up closer than most”

“Closer than anything”

When you were younger, your foolish selves believed that the two of you would get through living a happy life living by each other’s sides for the rest of time. But of course, those are just nonsensical ramblings of young children. Nothing good lasts forever. You’d like to believe that Donghyuck loved you at some point in your lives, just like you loved him. Even if that love is no more, you couldn’t help but hope.

Life was playing an amusing game with the two of you. The longer you both spend time with each other, the more broken your relationship becomes. The more broken your relationship becomes, the stronger Donghyuck’s urge to cut you off from his life becomes. And as more time goes on, you start to think if things would be better if you get the surgery. If one of you dies, at least one of you will have a chance of living a happier life, right?

“Shared our beds”

“But wore different clothes”

Your parents didn’t know what to do when you first met. When you were younger they would arrange an organized schedule of who gets the two of you in their home for the week like a child with divorced parents. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t like you being together like this. Your parents treated Donghyuck as their own son and his parents treated you as if you were their own daughter. But you both knew that deep down, they’d like to have their own child back without their soulmates sticking to them like some kind of weird sloth.

“Talked about everything”

“Spoke about so many things”

You spent years of your life together talking about anything and everything in an attempt to heal your relationship despite the fact that you two knew that it was getting you nowhere. You often asked questions like “what shall we wear tonight?” or “what shall we do today?”

“Can we go ice skating?”

“But we just did that yesterday”

You were both different people with different personalities and different interests. Unlike Donghyuck, you had thrown away your hopes of ever achieving those big dreams of yours a long long time ago, but always felt nice to dream of what you could be if you weren’t so hopeless.

“Should we be firemen?”

“Can we be astronauts?”

You were often looked down upon by your classmates when you were still in elementary school. The teachers would always scold them for constantly making fun of your intertwined hands being stuck together by the string. They would always tell your classmates to be nice and to invite the two of you to play with them. But alas, children are children. They don’t understand what words and actions could do to someone else.

Often, the teachers would make you join in on their little game of tag or hide and seek. It was quite difficult for the both of you to participate, it wasn’t like the two of you were telepathic. You constantly spend the first few seconds arguing where to go or where to hide which ends the two of you being caught before you could even have a chance to actually have fun. And eventually, your classmates would ignore your presence if the two of you participated.

“What if they find us?” you asked one day while playing hide and seek with your peers, crouching down to ensure that your body is safely hidden. Donghyuck lets out a small scoff, outstretching his legs as he leaned his back against the wall with a heavy sigh before looking down at your intertwined bond. “They’re not looking anyway,” he shook his head.

These days, your conversations were always the same. Dull and monotonous. Filled with hopelessness and despair. Eyes filled with exhaustion and distress. Faces void of emotion as you both stared at the dull grey ceiling.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

“Why do we bother to stay?”

“Why are you running away?”

“Don’t you feel like severing?”

“Everything’s just come together at last”

“We’re broken, why would you want to play?”

“Fill my glass,” Donghyuck ordered, making you reach your hand out to fill his glass with wine. At the age of nineteen, the love between the two of you was nonexistent. You both had to deal with the excruciating truth that you’re going to be stuck together forever. “Why are we weeping?” you muttered under your breath as you slumped against the sofa beside him. Donghyuck ignored you as he sipped his drink with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

“At your side”

“I feel like a ghost”

You never knew about this. But Donghyuck was always the one to wake up first every morning. And every morning, he couldn’t help but turn over to stare at you as you sleep. Knowing how creepy it is, Donghyuck couldn’t help but admire your content expression. The way your eyelashes hovered over your skin, the way your lips part slightly. He would never tell this to your face. But he loved waking up to see the innocence glossing over your sleeping state.

Despite the many arguments you two get into with each other on a daily basis, it felt nice to lay down in silence with the comforting thought of the two of you having your own peaceful moments every morning. But of course, as soon as you wake up, Donghyuck is back to looking at you as if you were the bane of his existence.

In retrospect, Donghyuck viewed you as someone who needs to get off of his back. Quite literally. He wanted you to let go of him, he wanted to live his own life where he doesn’t have to put up with you being constantly beside him. He knew you were his soulmate, but he didn’t know if he loved you or hated you. All he knows is that he just wants you to leave him be and have his privacy.

Everyday was just the same. There was nothing new to the two of you. Your days of living with each other always goes by the same questions over and over again.

“What shall we wear tonight?”

“What shall we eat today?”

“Do you think we’ll get married someday?” you asked him one day, looking at the loving couple across the street from you as you both stood in front of the bus stop side by side with equally emotionless expressions. Donghyuck took a small glance at you, unsurprisingly you were saying it with a hopeless expression. Why did you have to ask such a question when you know very well what the answer was going to be?

“We discussed this yesterday,” Donghyuck replied shortly, keeping his eyes on the empty road as people continued to walk past you. His eyes wandered to those who walked alone with hands in their pockets. Then his eyes wandered to those holding hands with their soulmates, gazing lovingly at them as if they were the brightest star in their eyes. Donghyuck then looked back at you, his half-lidded eyes scanning your broken figure that mirrored his own. Was he willing to marry someone as broken as he is?

“Should we be movie stars?”

“Will we be millionaires?”

But can someone broken still talk about dreams as if they still have hope in their lives? Donghyuck never knew what’s the point in these wishful conversations. It was just hurting the both of you even more as time went by. You knew conversations about the things you know you’ll never be was just getting your hopes up. But life seemed too dim for the both of you, you couldn’t help but hold onto these late night conversations as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I want to be famous.”

“They’re watching us anyway.”

Donghyuck had always wanted to be a singer since he was a child. He loved to sing and dance before he met you. His parents were ready to support him in his dreams, his future was bright as heaven’s gate when he realised he had actual potential of being a star. But that can’t happen. Not with you by his side.

A part of you thought that the reason Donghyuck had always hated you was because you ripped him away from his dreams and his own privacy. You couldn’t blame him for being angry at you. But you knew that deep down, he was also at fault, too. If the two of you hadn’t met all those years ago, you’d probably be in a much healthier and happier place by now.

You both would probably be in a better place by now if fate hadn’t decided to let you meet that day.

“We grew up so very close.”

“A parasite needs a host,” Donghyuck spat at you, venom and malice lacing his tone as he pushed away his plate of food aggressively across the table. It was another one of those arguments. You two were getting sick of each other. You were at a breaking point. Donghyuck was discussing about getting the surgery again and as usual, he snaps at you harshly whenever you decline the offer. But you couldn’t help but retort back at his snarl.

“I’m only trying to do what is best for us!”

“Well I never wanted this. I never asked for this. All that I want is some time to myself!”

“Donghyuck…”

“Just get away from me! Please just stop touching me! You’re always trying to be somebody else!”

Donghyuck believed that deep down you were just putting up a fake act. He believed that all this talk about you not getting the surgery for the sake of the both of your safety was all just buffoonery. He thought that you just want to see him live a miserable life along your side for the rest of your lives. He views you as some kind of parasite sticking onto his body.

He was too blinded by selfishness to see the good side in this situation you were both stuck in.

“I just realise I’m not alone.”

You were afraid. If you took the surgery, you were afraid that Donghyuck was going to die instead of you. He may not like you, but you didn’t want to live with the overwhelming burden that you killed your own soulmate, even if it wasn’t your idea to do the surgery. You didn’t want to live without Donghyuck either. You wanted someone to love. Unfortunately for you, Donghyuck didn’t want the same thing.

“Well you’re only scared of me.”

“But you never cared for me!”

“Why don’t you let me free?”

“Cause you never dared to be!”

Spewing insults and cries back and forth was all the only thing you’ve been doing the past couple of years. You were both tired. Tired of living like this. Living in misery and despair. You knew you weren’t going to be happy in this life, but you also knew you didn’t want to sacrifice Donghyuck just because he wanted it. In Donghyuck’s mind, all there is to think about was how life would be so easier if you cut the damn string off of your body. How everyone would be much happier if you just agreed to the surgery.

“Cause you never listen, you’re always insisting!”

“Just stop reminiscing!” ¦¦ “I’m just reminiscing!”

“I feel something missing.”

“I just want you here with me.” ¦¦ “I just want my privacy.”

“God, can’t we just get along!?” ¦¦ “God, won’t you leave me alone?!”

That was it. That was your breaking point.

You finally agreed to the surgery without hesitation, your eyes no longer held a single ounce of light and hope in them as you signed the papers willingly. Donghyuck couldn’t say anything else to you either. He finally got you to sign the papers and do the surgery but why didn’t he feel as ecstatic as he should be? Why was his heart still so empty? Why couldn’t he find the enthusiasm in him as you both got into your robes, preparing for the surgery.

You haven’t spared the slightest glance at him since the argument you two had the other night. But then again, why would you? You finally agreed to signing either yours or Donghyuck’s life to death, there was no need for you to feel anything about it. You prayed to God that Donghyuck would be the one to survive, no matter how bad he has treated you in almost the past two decades, you still prayed for his survival.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

The doctors placed masks over your mouths, informing you that they were going to start the anesthesia with a concentrated expression on their face. Donghyuck looks over to you to give you one last look, his eyes becoming half-lidded when he sees your content face resting right beside him. The way your eyes slowly shut when the gas kicked in, he practically saw your hopeless pupils shining before his own eyes started to get droopy. For once in years, he squeezed your hand encouragingly in his, feeling the string tighten around your body as he does.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

He felt your hand squeeze back softly, making his heart flutter for the first time in ages before he finally succumbs into a deep sleep.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

As Donghyuck opens his eyes, he finds himself in a hospital room, A heart monitor placed right beside him, beeping loudly to signal the calming beating of his heart. He sat up slightly, his body feeling weak and sore. He examined his body, stitches and gauze were everywhere and all around his arms. The strings that he had gotten used to seeing wrapped around his body were nowhere in sight.

It worked. The surgery worked.

“Y/n.”

He was no longer stuck to your body anymore. He was finally able to live his life as freely as he wanted. He could hardly believe his own eyes as he pressed both of his palms against his face, pinching himself to see if this was just some kind of weird dream. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. God, when was the last time he smiled like this.

He couldn’t wait to do the things he’s always wanted to do. He couldn’t wait to go home to his parents and see the baffled looks on their faces once they see him as a whole happy person again. He couldn’t wait to tell all his friends that he could finally drink with them without you getting on his back for drinking too much-

Wait. You. Where were you?

“Y/n.”

His head shot up, looking around to see if you were in the same room as he was. His heart raced when he saw the empty bed next to his. Have you gone home without him? Or did you wake up way earlier than he did? Why didn’t you wait for him to wake up? Where have you gone? Why weren’t you right next to him? He was supposed to be the first one to wake up to see the peaceful expression on your sleeping face. He was supposed to be the first one to tell you that this surgery would be the best decision you two have ever made.

The clipboard filled with data the doctor left on the table beside him had all the answers to his question. Donghyuck used a weak hand to grab the papers and set them on his lap, carefully picking each and every one of them up, his eyes quickly scanning the letters printed onto it. From what he can conclude, your soulmate string was cut off and donated to science. The surgery took about 4-5 hours and he had been resting for about two days.

He also concluded that you had died in the middle of surgery.

“Y/n.”

“...”

“Why didn’t we try to stay?”

“You wanted to keep running away.”

“Why did we agree to severing?”

“Everything’s over at last.”

“I’m broken. Let’s play this game again.”

if you haven’t noticed. Hyuck is in bold. Y/n is in italic. Both is both.

This was a new writing style I wanted to try out and it’s not my best work but I think it’s pretty good enough to post.

197 notes · View notes

kieraelieson · 3 years

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Centaur AU 8

When Thomas woke up, rather slowly, feeling itchy and groggy and much in need of a shower, it was to soft voices and little clops of moving hooves.

“And where is the rest of the food?”

“That’s all there is out here. Mostly we tend to eat the pre-made stuff.”

“I’ll have to put it on the list too then.”

Thomas opened his eyes, registering that Patton and Emile were talking.

Patton sighed. “It’s just… strange. I worry that with all of the new nice things that once Thomas leaves it’ll be so miserable and I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it.”

“Thomas won’t be leaving. Or if he does, we’ll be taking you with us.” Emile promised.

Thomas nodded slightly, staying silent.

Patton moved, peeking over the shorter wall that separated his stall from the one Thomas was using as a bed, met Thomas’s eyes, and jumped back with a sound rather like a loud squeak.

“Oh, dear! I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were awake.”

Thomas sat up. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” Emile said. “Little mishaps happen, you both are fine.”

Thomas stood up and stretched, gratefully noting that Emile was making breakfast for everyone. Between yesterday and now already this morning, he could tell he was going to greatly appreciate Emile. He was going to have to find some way to pay Emile back somehow.

He opened the stall, seeing Roman and Remy blinking and drowsy, and Virgil very much awake.

“Let me see what we have going for today,” he said, mostly to himself, as he walked over to the schedule on the wall. “Oh, Emile, thanks for making breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.” Emile said. “Though, as you may have heard, we are woefully short on ingredients.”

Thomas nodded.

“What about coffee?” Remy asked. “Please tell me they have coffee here.”

“Not yet.”

Remy let out a long groan and flopped onto the floor dramatically.

Thomas couldn’t help a little smile. He looked at the schedule, trying to parse out the rather terrible handwriting. He should get a new one and fill it out himself. His handwriting might not be that much better, but he could read it himself more easily, and he wouldn’t have to try and translate names with a tired brain.

Patton had a party at five, though it didn’t say when it ended. And Logan had one of those charity things, which he would certainly not be doing. Thomas considered a long moment, and then started looking for a phone number. He was probably the one that had to call and cancel things like that.

He finally found a whole list of phone numbers on the back of the calendar, and managed to get the right one, and tell them that Logan wouldn’t be able to participate in anything for at least six months, or however long the vet said after follow-up visits.

They weren’t very happy about it. But in this, Thomas wouldn’t take no for an answer, and if they were going to talk to the Authiers’ lawyer, well, hopefully the lawyer knew what to do. Because Logan wasn’t going back to a single one of those contests, legal or otherwise, until he was both healed and wanted to.

He turned back around to see worried faces, and wished that the phone wasn’t corded so that he could have taken it outside and not worried them all.

“It’s alright, I just canceled all of Logan’s events for the next few months. He’ll be fine to rest up and get well now.”

“Well that’s good,” Roman said.

Virgil and Patton nodded solemnly.

Thomas yawned and considered. What should he do next? It took a moment to come to his fuzzy brain, but he realized that he should come up with something for them all to do all morning, rather than just standing around. He felt slightly bad about having the paddock be his go-to, but it was worlds better than being cooped up in a stall, and he didn’t really know enough to give them somewhere else to… perhaps that’s what they could do. Explore the estate as a group and find all the places where they could go, and figure out what there was to do.

He had to have Patton back, clean and ready, by five then, and he needed to do something to set up Logan first, but that seemed like a very good plan. Also, considering clean and ready, they would all need a good brushing down at some point. Perhaps he ought to aim at getting back by three then, and asking Remy and Emile for help setting up a kind of grooming circle.

But he had a plan! And one that, barring unforeseen troubles, seemed like a good one. It wasn’t too ambitious, and it might even go well.

But first breakfast. Which… he didn’t really have. And he felt absolutely terrible to say it, but he didn’t want to try the centaurs’ food. He’d always kind of guessed they didn’t mind that weird grassy smell, cause they ate grass anyway. That was a thing he needed to ask about.

“Well, if they have a bunk room, they might have something like a cafeteria here, I’m going to see if I can find it and get some breakfast. If there’s coffee, I’ll bring you back a cup, Remy. Also, I might need your phone, and I’ll expect someone to call me if Logan wakes up.”

Remy, still splayed out on the floor in a rather uncomfortable-looking position, nodded and floundered, trying to reach his bag without getting up. He was unsuccessful, much to the amusement of everyone watching. He made sure to pout at each and every one of them once he got his bag and his phone.

“You know someday it won’t be little funny smiles!” he threatened, turning away from them all.

“Thank you, Remy,” Thomas said seriously. “I’ll be sure to get you coffee.”

Remy grumbled out something that might have been a thank you, or perhaps something else.

And then Thomas went for a walk, running his hands through his hair and swiping at his clothes to hopefully make himself look less like he’d been sleeping in a pile of hay. He vaguely knew that the bunkhouse was somewhere roughly straight from one wall of the stable, though he wasn’t certain how far it would be. And he just hoped someone would still be in the bunkhouse that he could ask.

Perhaps he should have asked one of the centaurs to come with him. It would be faster, and another set of hands in case he had to bring back several things. But he didn’t want to stop them from eating or having a bit of time to themselves. They certainly could use all the good things he could possibly get them.

He walked a good way before seeing the building, and jogging towards it. He was lucky enough to reach it right as someone else was walking out.

“Oh! Uh, excuse me, can I…” He had to pause a moment to breathe, but managed to continue. “I’m looking for a… cafeteria?”

“Yeah, it’s over this way, but breakfast ends at nine, you should hurry.” They pointed to a different nearby building, with its doors standing open.

Thomas nodded quickly. “Thank you!”

He ran into the cafeteria, grateful to see that the line was only a few people long. There was prepared eggs, sausage, bacon, something that looked like oatmeal perhaps, and toast. Thomas piled up his plate and then looked until he found the coffee. He served himself a cup of coffee and found some to-go cups, filling one up with coffee as close to the way he knew Remy liked it.

He felt rather overwhelmed by hurrying, especially as he glanced at a clock on the wall and saw that, if nine truly was the cut off, he only had ten minutes to eat. But despite his hurry, he had a fleeting question float through his mind. Would any of the other centaurs want coffee?

He should find a way to get decent food to them. Or bring them here. They may indeed like grass and hay and food made from it, but they also liked normal food, and should have it as a regular option.

He just didn’t know how. Yet.

He was working on it. And that would have to be enough for the moment.

Thomas tried to relax a little and eat, but he couldn’t help worrying that something bad would happen while he was gone.

Soon he was getting up and going back towards the stables, hoping that everything was fine, that they’d had a nice breakfast and Logan was still peacefully sleeping, but worrying that it wouldn’t be the case.

When he opened the door though, they all seemed perfectly fine. Logan was even still asleep. He really needed to trust them a bit more.

“Hi, guys,” he said, feeling more than a little awkward, all out of breath from having hurried back when nothing was wrong.

“Did you get my coffee?” Remy asked eagerly.

Thomas nodded. “ Yeah, I did, here. It’s not hot anymore, but it’s still a bit warm.”

Remy made a weird face, somewhere between grateful and still a bit displeased at the luke-warm coffee.

Thomas agreed with him, honestly. It wasn’t even close to ideal. And surely there was something better they could do. “I wanted to talk with you all.”

Virgil seemed concerned, but the rest of them watched him curiously.

“About what?” Patton asked.

“Well… this isn’t working out the best…”

On seeing the look on Virgil’s face, Thomas quickly backtracked. “Not like I’m giving up! Not at all. More like, I’m gonna need some help to know how to actually move forward. I’ve been doing my best, but it’s not exactly worked out well.”

“Ok…” Roman said slowly. “I think we can agree that things haven’t exactly gone the best, but… it’s not like we can help with much.”

Thomas nodded. “I know it feels that way, it does to me too, but there has to be something we can do. For starters, there’s the cafeteria. It exists, and I know that now, but do you guys want to go there? If you do, I’m sure I can come up with a way to make them let us in. It’s big enough. Or perhaps we could have them set out tables outside for you all. But I need to know that it’s what you want too. If you don’t care, or would rather stay here, we can work that out too.”

There was some shuffling back and forth, and several pairs of eyes staring at the ground.

“Well, I for one want hot coffee. Count me in.” Remy said firmly. “And I bet Emmy wants to come get some real food too.”

Emile nodded. “Yes, I’d prefer more of a variety of food than what is here.”

Thomas looked at Roman in particular next, hoping he would have more firm opinions.

Roman sighed, a rather pinched look on his face. “I like the idea of better food, but I’m not sure if I want to deal with all the other workers to get it.”

Patton nodded immediately. “We’d have to be quiet, and they would say rude things, and it would be pretty miserable even with the good food.”

Virgil nodded silently, clearly agreeing with Patton.

“Alright then,” Thomas said. “Well, what if I were to call the Authiers and see about officially changing what you’re all fed? If I insisted, I’m sure there’s a possibility of getting food sent here. We’d perhaps have to deal with the courier, but that would be less trouble.”

“If it’s at all possible, which is not certain,” Logan said.

Thomas went immediately to his stall to check on him. “Are you feeling ok? Would you want more painkillers? You haven’t eaten yet, right?”

Logan gave him an odd look. Of all of them, Thomas had the hardest time decoding what Logan’s looks were supposed to mean.

“Yes. Painkillers would be nice, and I haven’t eaten yet.”

Thomas nodded quickly, shooting Emile a glance. Emile was ahead of him already, getting a plate of food for Logan. Thomas went and made the same kind of slurry with the medicine that Logan had asked for the other time, putting some drink mix into the water so it wouldn’t taste as bad.

Once he got back, Virgil was already in Logan’s stall, trying to help him sit up without jostling his legs. Emile handed the plate in and then backed up so Thomas could get in with the medicine.

“Here you go, and I’ll go get some clean bandages to wrap your legs up in.”

Logan nodded stiffly and then downed the medicine with a slight grimace.

Thomas grabbed a few rolls of bandages and went in, extremely concerned to see Logan looking spacey already.

He knelt down next to Logan’s shoulder, laying his hand on his gently and rubbing very small circles. “Hey, there, Logan, are you with me?”

Logan looked at him silently, his face concerningly blank.

“I’m a bit concerned, ok? Can you stay here with me? I’d like to know I’m not hurting you, so I’ll need you to talk with me, ok?”

Logan let out a sigh. “I won’t be hurt by the changing of bandages.”

“Well, I certainly hope not, but just in case, can you try and stay present with me? And with Virgil?”

Logan looked up at Virgil, who was much more obviously concerned than even Thomas was. He slowly nodded.

“Alright. Here’s what I’m going to do, I’m going to run my hand down your leg to the end of the bandage and start unwinding it. Can you stay focused on Virgil for me? Tell me things about him, what colors can you see in his eyes?”

Logan frowned slightly, which was a good thing to Thomas. “What do you need to know the color of his eyes for?”

“To help you pay attention,” Virgil said softly. “You help me pay attention to safe things around me sometimes, this is like that.”

“Yes, exactly.” Thomas said, slowly and lightly running his hand down Logan’s leg. “Alright, I’m going to unwind this now. What colors can you see?”

Logan was looking far more attentive and present, staring up into Virgil’s face. “Mostly black. A very dark brown. Something that might appear green, except for the darkness of his eyes in general, which makes it look like a dark gray.”

Thomas very gently started unwinding the bandage. “That’s very good. What about his hair?”

“Most would classify the color as black. But when seen in the light there aren’t the cool undertones usually present in a pure black. I would classify it as a very dark brown.”

“That’s a very thoughtful way of saying it,” Thomas said. “My hand is going to move over to your other front leg, and then run down to unwind then bandage the same way.”

Logan nodded.

As Thomas moved to unwind the next bandage, he thought of another thing. “Why don’t you tell me about what you were doing in the paddock the other day? It seemed very clever. Something to keep you away from the holes without being able to see them clearly.”

Logan gave him another one of those odd looks when Thomas said the idea was clever. Thomas still wasn’t certain what it meant, but he decided to remember that, and use the word clever more often with Logan.

“It’s more of a common sense idea, but if you’re curious…” Logan trailed off, and Thomas looked up to see him looking the slightest bit bashful.

“I’m going to move to your back leg now. And yes, I am curious. It sounds like a useful thing to learn.”

Logan cleared his throat. “If you’d like to learn then, I suppose I’ll tell you.”

Virgil sent Thomas a look, a look that said he’d stumbled across a key, and that Virgil wasn’t certain how he was going to use it. Though to be honest, Thomas wasn’t sure either.

“I’m going to touch you now, and stroke down your leg to unwind the bandages,” Thomas said, careful to keep his tone light and unobtrusive, hoping Logan would continue.

“I am far-sighted, so I could see the holes at a distance, but not close to my own feet. If I could place the hole along the fence, and if I was careful to take measured steps, I could place it between the two fence posts, and I could know how many steps from the first post until I would need to step over or around it. Virgil was helping by confirming the distance. I haven’t yet mastered taking steps of perfectly regular length, so my calculations were often incorrect by a step or two.”

“Wow. -I’m moving to your other back leg now- That really is very smart, Logan. I’m impressed.”

Logan smiled slightly.

Thomas counted that as a very big win. “Alright, I’m going to go and get the ointment and then wrap your legs up. You can go ahead and eat your breakfast. And then the vet said we need to have you walking some, but slowly. I’ll be right back and then explain my plan.”

Logan nodded.

Thomas was quick, and soon got back with the ointment.

“So what is your plan?” Virgil asked.

“Well, first helping Logan,” Thomas said, kneeling again by his legs. “I’m going to go in the same order as last time, starting with this leg. And once I’m done, we’re going to very carefully help Logan up. If he’s doing well, then I’m hoping a few of you will help him walk around the outside of the stable a few times. -Alright, I’m moving to the next leg- And while you all walk around, I’m going to try and set up the iPad with a bunch of books, and see if I can make it so that Logan can get more when he wants to. That way he will have something calm and enjoyable to do while we’re gone. -I’m moving to your back legs now- And then I was thinking that some or all of the rest of you might want to come with me, and explore some of the estate, see what all there is, and where else we might like to spend time. Ok, last leg now, Logan.”

“That seems like a good plan,” Roman commented.

Thomas looked up to see Patton looking around at them all, confused. “What’s up, Pat?”

“Just… what’s an iPad? Is it like a bookshelf?”

Thomas was a bit concerned to see a few curious looks. Apparently several of them had never heard of an iPad.

“Well, I bought one… yesterday? Was it yesterday I went to the store? I think. Anyway, it’s a small rectangle, and it runs on electricity. It does a lot of things, and it’s pretty complicated, but the reason I bought it is that it can hold many many books inside it without taking up much space.”

Patton nodded slowly, still looking confused.

“Later today I’ll let you try it some too, ok?” Thomas said with a smile.

Patton nodded more confidently this time.

“And the rest of you too, I’m sure you’d all like a little bit to try it out. It’s mostly for Logan, especially while he’s healing, but everyone can try.”

Thomas stood up, looking around the stall. “Ok, Logan. Do you think you can stand up with just me and Virgil helping? Or would someone else be better? Or would you like to try by yourself?”

Logan frowned slightly in consideration. “I’d prefer just Virgil.”

Thomas nodded immediately and left the stall. “Just be gentle on yourself.”

Logan set his empty plate aside, held up a hand for Virgil to grab onto, and then heaved himself up. His face twisted in pain, and once he was standing he leaned heavily on the wall.

Thomas gave him a moment before asking, “How is it?”

“Painful. But bearable.”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Ok. I’d like you to try walking around the stable. Take long, slow steps, don’t push it too much. If the pain changes at all, stop there and come back in to lay down.”

Logan nodded, very slowly moving to leave the stall.

Thomas left it to them all to take care of him, and tried to figure out where he’d left the iPad, and where would be a good place to plug it in.

From outside, he heard quite a few ‘be careful’s, followed by Logan saying ‘I may be injured, but I don’t want to be babied, I can walk on my own’.

Thomas smiled to himself. With Logan doing this well, if he could just keep going, he’d surely be better soon.

———

If you enjoyed, please reblog, and consider supporting me on Kofi!

#centaur au #my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remy sleep #emile picani #character Thomas

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter six: no one but you

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 5.6K

A/N: i sincerely hope you guys like the way this ends, it’s always so nerve-wracking to end a story! the epilogue to this story is posted as well and linked. thank you to every single person who sent sweet messages of support it means the world to me. SMUT WARNINGS APPLY IN THIS CHAPTER: oral (m/f), unprotected sex (only in fiction y’all) and hoseok thirst.

of course, i cannot post this story without shouting out some of the most supportive, killer people on this site. you guys truly mean the world to me @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland @hobi-gif

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*********************

There are perks to being the boss.

For Namjoon, it means calling the shots on the streets from his office in the sky. Rarely does he leave the climate-controlled comfort of his pristine headquarters to get his hands dirty in the day-to-day business of the organization he runs.

Tonight, he’s making an exception.

Yoongi drives. Like a bat out of hell, as always.

It’s a thirty-minute ride from downtown Seoul to Incheon Port without traffic but Yoongi is on pace to finish it in just twenty. Hoseok watches the lights on the expressway speed by from the backseat. He tries hard to focus on the information Namjoon shares, the details he’ll need in order to ensure he doesn’t put himself or anyone else in danger tonight.

But fuck, it’s so hard to concentrate with the taste of you still on his lips.

He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath. He forces himself to push the memory of your body in his hands and your skin in his mouth and your voice in his ear to the corner of his mind.

Then he goes over the information again.

Namjoon wants to be in place at least ten minutes before the scheduled meet so he can figure out what’s going on before the Ssijog knows he’s there with his men.

He wants guns to stay holstered unless he gives the signal.

He wants --

“You must have really scared the shit out of that guy, Jung,” Namjoon murmurs from the front seat. Hoseok snaps back into focus to search for his boss’s reflection in the side mirror and finds Namjoon already looking at him. “He’s been blowing up his contact since last night, begging for personal protection.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t do worse,” Hoseok shrugs. “I certainly could have.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Namjoon agrees. “Someday you’ll have to tell me the story of how you managed to be outside of his apartment when his handler picked him up. Here I was, under the impression you had the night off.”

Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just doing my job.”

There’s a twist to Namjoon’s mouth that Hoseok can’t read and it puts him on edge.

“Well, I must thank you for your dedication to your job,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty for this assignment.”

Hoseok looks away from the mirror. “Yeah, sure,” he says quietly.

The car falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“So anyway --” he announces loudly, “-- Jimin and Tae were able to track Kang’s texts through some internet bullshit they mess around with. Apparently dude flipped out after you left his place and wouldn’t let up until his handlers agreed to meet him tonight.”

“At Incheon Port?” Hoseok asks, glad for the redirect. “That’s a hell of a drive for a chat.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Namjoon says under his breath.

The car falls silent once again.

**********************

Mun Kiwoo has a reputation for being messy.

The man at the top sets the tone for the organization, and Mun is no exception. His men are known for their brutality, his deals often go south, and by most accounts his syndicate is hanging on by a thread.

But it’s still hanging on.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi watch quietly from their vantage point behind a shipping container as Mun waits in the dark, cigarette in hand. He looks like an unmade bed -- shirt rumpled and half-tucked into his wrinkled dress pants. He lights one cigarette off of another as he answers a series of calls on his cell.

His agitation seems to rise each time it rings again.

Hoseok takes stock of the two guards Mun has at his side tonight. They’re bulky men with huge arms and round bodies -- the kind of guys who look dangerous due to sheer size, but would be slow to respond in a physical fight. Namjoon holds up two fingers to confirm they’re the only men with Mun and Hoseok nods.

Headlights bounce off the pavement after a few more minutes of waiting.

A black car pulls up close to the water’s edge and Mun Kiwoo ends his call just as he lights another cigarette.

Kang Donghyuk is the first out of the car, followed closely by his Ssijog handler. Kang is dragging his ass and even from a distance, Hoseok can make out the bandage over the side of his face.

Hope it hurts, motherfucker.

“Mr. Kang,” Mun Kiwoo’s voice is clear now, loud enough for all three men to hear. “You have been rather insistent about this meeting. I’m a busy guy. What do you want?”

All three men strain to listen to Donghyuk’s response, but it’s too muffled to catch. Yoongi brings his hands to his throat to make a choking gesture. Can’t hear shit, he mouths. You choked him too hard.

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“That sounds like your problem,” Mun laughs in response to whatever Kang has said. “Not mine.”

Donghyuk gestures wildly as he tries to make his case, likely pleading for the protection of the Ssijog. Mun Kiwoo looks unmoved.

“I’m not interested in causing any more trouble with the Gajog, Mr. Kang. This entire situation has been a means to an end. Stirring more shit with Kim Namjoon is not in my best interest.”

Namjoon signals to Yoongi and Hoseok that it’s time to move. All three men step out from their cover behind the shipping container, hands in front of their bodies to demonstrate none are holding their weapons.

“Fucking hell,” Mun Kiwoo groans when he spots them. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

His guards bow up at his side, both men reaching for their guns. Mun has the good sense to raise a hand and stop them from pulling their firearms -- which keeps Yoongi and Hoseok from doing the same. All of the men face off in silence for a moment, each side waiting to see if the other will do something to break the fragile peace.

Kang Donghyuk whines under his breath and Hoseok shoots a warning glare at him. He drops his gaze to the ground and shuts his mouth.

“You say you don’t want trouble with me, Mun and yet --” Namjoon snarls, “-- you have this piece of shit working my sister. Explain.”

“You know how these rich boys are, Kim,” Mun chuckles. “They develop a bad habit -- or in this idiot’s case, two -- and daddy’s money isn’t enough anymore. They’re easy to buy.”

Donghyuk looks from Namjoon to Mun, panic in his wide eyes.

“They’re trying to kill me,” he rasps.

“So what?” Mun laughs. He smiles wide to reveal a mouth like an abandoned graveyard, teeth broken and scattered. “This guy thinks we’re friends,” he jeers, jerking a thumb in Donghyuk’s direction. “He’s too stupid to figure out that he served a purpose and now he doesn’t anymore. Simple as that.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath with obvious irritation.

“I’m still waiting to hear what any of this shit has to do with my sister.”

“Ah, yes,” Mun says, stubbing out his cigarette and getting back to the task at hand. “Listen, I don’t have anything against your sister personally, okay? Lim Joowon is my son and I want him back. He can’t spend the next 15 years behind bars. You understand that, right? Doing whatever it takes for your family?”

Namjoon utters a curse under his breath.

“I’ll give your sister some credit, though -- she’s tenacious. I thought she’d give up after we took her digital files,” Mun admits. “Instead she’s cost me a hell of a lot more money. I’ve had to start cutting a lot more checks to ensure this shit goes away.”

“She’s not the type to roll over and play dead, Mun,” Namjoon growls through gritted teeth.

“The pigheaded gene runs in the family, huh?” Mun grins. “Look, let me level with you Kim, man to man. I don’t even need your sister at this point. I’ve paid enough people to fuck this case from the inside out. But I won’t lie, she is my insurance. If any of the higher-ups start asking questions about why this case fell apart -- who better to point the finger at than the sweet young prosecutor with the dirty family connections, hmm?”

Namjoon tenses, hand reaching for the gun at his side. Yoongi stops him with a muttered warning.

“None of us give a fuck about what happens to your son, Mun,” Namjoon says. “What I have a problem with is you sending that piece of shit --” he points at the trembling Kang Donghyuk, “ -- into her fucking home. Invading her space. You crossed a line.”

“You’re right,” Mun agrees lightly. “It was rude. Uncalled for. I’m gonna apologize for it right now.”

He pulls his pistol from his side and the sound of clinking metal bounces off the shipping containers as everyone pulls their guns. Hoseok trains his pistol directly at the shaking Kang Donghyuk and silently prays for the chance to pull the trigger. Mun Kiwoo’s gun is pointed at Namjoon and Namjoon’s is pointed right back.

Then Mun’s face lights up with a bizarre smile. He swings the point of his pistol in the direction of Donghyuk and pulls the trigger twice.

Donghyuk sputters as he falls to the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchange looks.

Namjoon stares at Mun incredulously.

“What?” Mun’s nonchalance is comical. “You wanted to do that too, right? Besides, that guy owes everyone in the city money. I promise you, his own mother won’t even miss him.”

“Jesus,” Yoongi mutters under his breath. “This guy is fucking nuts.”

Mun puts his pistol away and his men follow suit. Namjoon signals for Yoongi and Hoseok to do the same.

“Consider that a goodwill gesture,” Mun says breezily. “An official apology from me, to you. And please pass along my consideration to your sister. Please assure her that none of this is personal. But I will make sure my son stays out of prison. And like it or not, she’s going to play some kind of role in that.”

Namjoon stares off into the water.

“I can’t control my sister, Mun. She makes her own choices,” he says after a moment. “But let me be clear, this is the first and last polite discourse we’re going to have about this situation. I don’t want you, your goons or any --” he glances at the bleeding pile of Kang Donghyuk on the floor, “-- paid help going near her. Not in her office, not in her home. Nowhere. Are we clear?”

Mun Kiwoo lights another cigarette and smiles wide, the space in his teeth prominent against the gleaming ember hanging from his mouth.

“Crystal.”

On the way back to the car, Hoseok hears the heavy splash of Kang Donghyuk’s body hitting the water down below.

He shuts his eyes against the rush of pleasure he feels as he climbs into the backseat.

************************

YOU

Something isn’t right.

You stare at the empty seat across the conference table -- the one where Hyejin normally sits -- and something twists in your gut. She’s out sick today. You can’t even remember the last time she took a sick day.

All morning, you’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s no big deal. That you’re working yourself up for nothing.

But Donghyuk is out today, too.

Vaguely, you register the sound of your boss’s voice at the front of the room. Any minute now, you’ll be asked to brief the team on the status of your case, but you can’t think straight. You can’t focus on anything but the feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong.

Your thoughts race back to last night, back to your brother taking his men away for business in the middle of the night.

Back to Hoseok.

You try not to think about what it felt like to have his warm body pressed against yours. The way he smelled like fresh laundry and spice. The way you unraveled the moment he touched you.

Your phone pulses with an incoming text.

namjoon: i’ve asked jungkook to bring you to the office tonight after work [ 1:25 PM ]

namjoon: a lot to discuss [ 1:26 PM ]

Your brain grinds to a halt as you stare at the messages.

It’s like everything is wrong and everything is right, all at the same time.

“Miss. Kim?”

You look up to see your boss staring at you, one expectant eyebrow raised. You take a deep breath, line up your papers and stand to take your place at the front of the room.

****************************

The sense of déjà vu that hits you as you make the long walk across your brother’s office is nearly overwhelming. This is exactly how this entire mess began weeks ago -- with you summoned to see Namjoon after hours, with Yoongi and Hoseok flanking him on either side.

But there is one thing different about tonight.

When you briefly lock gazes with Hoseok as you make your way to Namjoon’s plush chair, there is a warmth behind his dark eyes you can see from a distance. It’s a complete contrast to the first time you ever saw him, when you thought you could freeze to death from the ice in his glare.

You look away before anyone can catch the flush working its way up your neck.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you brother begins evenly. “I finally have some answers for you about what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m ready to hear them,” you exhale, taking a seat. Your eyes drift over the papers strewn scattered across his desk.

“We’ve learned that the reason the Ssijog want your case against Lim Joowon to fold is because Lim is Mun Kiwoo’s son.”

You raise a brow.

“That’s news to me. I didn’t even know Mun Kiwoo had a son.”

“Neither did we,” Namjoon admits. “Apparently this is his only son and the man he intends to pass control of the Ssijog down to. So it makes sense that he’s so hell-bent on seeing this case fall apart.”

He picks one of the papers off his desk.

“This is the more problematic piece of the puzzle,” Namjoon says quietly. Your chest tightens in response to the expression on his face. “Jimin and Taehyung tracked a Ssijog account making payouts. Payouts to people in your office.”

He holds the piece of paper out to you.

“There are six names on that list.”

You take a deep breath before taking the sheet from his hands.

Your eyes scan down the document, taking in the blows, one by one. Two receptionists. One paralegal.

Lee Hyejin.

Kang Donghyuk.

Park Soo.

You say nothing as you stare at the list, taking in the names again.

Someone you called a friend. Someone you’d allowed into your bed. The boss you’d bent over backwards trying to impress. You stare at the black-and-white evidence of betrayal in your hands, reading the words over and over -- expecting to feel sadness or rage or humiliation or something.

Nothing comes.

“Give us a moment, would you please?”

Yoongi and Hoseok file out of the room quietly at Namjoon’s command. The second the heavy door to the office clicks shut, he clears his throat. “There is something else we need to discuss, Amsaja,” your brother continues quietly. “Kang Donghyuk is dead.”

“Good.”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide at the quick, calm delivery of your response.

You stand to walk to his sideboard to pour a drink. You have no idea what’s inside the decanter, only that whatever it is promises a burn you want to feel right now. You pour a glass and take a sip, leaning against the heavy wooden piece.

“Did you kill him?”

“No. The Ssijog beat us to it,” Namjoon admits. “But Hoseok paid Donghyuk a personal visit at home to convey our -- displeasure -- at his involvement in this mess. He damned near choked that man to death hours before Mun Kiwoo put two bullets in him.”

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay.”

The words Hoseok spoke in your kitchen surface in your mind.

They’d sent a bolt of pleasure through you at the time -- triggering a kind of primitive response you’d be embarrassed to admit out loud.

And somehow that response pales in comparison to what you’re feeling right now.

A normal woman wouldn’t find satisfaction in the idea of Donghyuk cowering in fear inside his apartment. A normal woman wouldn’t feel warmth spread through her entire body at the mental image of Hoseok wrapping his hands around Donghyuk’s throat. You slip a finger under the collar of your blouse and search for your scar -- closing your eyes at the familiar feel of the raised skin.

You remind yourself that you are not a normal woman.

“Hoseok uncovered Kang’s involvement with the Ssijog even before we found the payouts.” Your brother pauses, a wry twist to his mouth as he continues. “He can be a very determined man when something is important to him.”

Namjoon holds your gaze for just a beat too long after delivering that statement. You look away and walk to his office window.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now, Amsaja,” you brother says. You can hear the sound of him pouring his own drink behind you. “Your silence has me concerned.”

You’re thinking about every time Hyejin feigned concern for you and tried to get you to open up. The days Donghyuk insisted he take you to lunch or to dinner when you insisted you were too swamped. The bullshit little speech Park Soo gave you the night of the charity dinner about keeping Seoul from falling into the hands of criminals.

You’re thinking about what a joke they all are -- dressing up and looking down their noses at the criminal element they claim to despise. Wearing their fake piety like a badge of honor and paying for their fine things with dirty money.

You’re thinking that you’d rather choose a hundred street thugs over any one of their kind. At least your brother has the balls to wear his sins on his sleeve.

Namjoon joins you at the window, glass in hand.

“What I’m thinking, Jaegyueo,” you say calmly, “Is that a lot of things are starting to make sense for me. I haven’t felt this clear in a very long time. So, thank you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your brother’s mouth and you return it.

You clink your glasses together in a toast.

***********************

You are two whiskeys deep when you leave Namjoon’s office.

Hoseok is waiting in a chair in the hallway. He stands to his feet when you appear from behind the heavy wooden door.

You suck in a breath as you take him in -- the sharp beauty of his face and the soft curve of his mouth and the way his suit hugs the lines of his lean body. You realize, with more than a little embarrassment, that you are staring.

“I’ve got the car warming downstairs,” Hoseok says carefully. “If you’re ready to go, that is.”

“Yes. Hoseok, I --” you swallow thickly, “-- I never apologized for what I said to you. I didn’t mean those things. I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok steps close and reaches one hand out to tuck your hair behind your ear. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch and inhaling his scent.

“You’ve had a hell of a night,” he murmurs. “We can talk about that some other time. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You open your eyes to look up at him just as Yoongi rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

“Glad this isn’t awkward,” he mutters, before turning to walk back the same way he came.

**********************

The air in Hoseok’s car is thick with tension on the ride home.

You’ve stopped pretending to not stare, eyes fixed on Hoseok while his eyes stay glued to the road. He guides the car through a sharp turn and you catch the way he winces as his hand grips the steering wheel.

A throb of guilt hits you square in the chest.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nah,” Hoseok deflects quickly. “Just a little sore.”

He won’t look at you. Why won’t he look at you?

“Namjoon told me you nearly choked Donghyuk to death,” you say quietly, studying his face for any reaction. He slows the car to a stop at a red light and rubs his fingers across his mouth, stares out of his window.

“I wanted to kill him,” he admits. He takes his aching hand off the steering wheel and flexes his fingers as if reliving the memory of that night. “I almost did.”

That embarrassing reaction flares inside of you again. This time it slides down your back and pools low between your legs and you have to squeeze your thighs together in response. You shiver as you remember the promises he made while pressing his body to yours.

“Tell me what you want. I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

You’ve never wanted anything as badly as you do Jung Hoseok right now.

*************************

You force yourself to wait for the elevator doors to shut.

The second they do, you crush your body and your mouth to Hoseok’s. If you catch him off-guard, there’s no way to tell -- not with the way he immediately backs you into the elevator wall, slotting one knee between your thighs.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore,” he groans the words into the shell of your ear, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Just like no one gets to touch you anymore. No one but me.”

The strangled sigh that escapes you is the closest thing Hoseok is going to get to a thank you right now. You whimper in agreement, gasping when his fingers grip your ass to pull you flush against him. The swollen outline of his cock brushes against your stomach and you shudder.

The elevator ride is too long and too short, all at the same time. Hoseok backs you through the doors as soon as they open, fumbling in his pocket for the keys while you suck bruises into his throat. By some miracle, he gets the door open and both of you through it in one piece.

“Fuck,” Hoseok swears as you wrap your arms around his neck, grinding against his insistent cock. He has to drag you both into the bedroom as you press against him like a dead weight, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as you both stumble into the bedroom. You drop out of his grasp when the bed hits the back of your knees.

Hoseok stands back, chest heaving with exertion.

“I need you to hear you say it,” he pants. “Please.”

You sit up straight on the edge of the bed and unbutton your blouse, slipping it off without hesitation. “No one gets to touch me,” you breathe, reaching to unclasp your bra. You toss it away.

“No one but you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken to near black.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and slowly pulls off his holster and gun, placing both carefully on top of your dresser. Then he turns back, body looming over yours. He cups your cheek with one large hand, looking down at you with such heat that your breath hitches in your chest.

You lean into his touch, fingertips grazing the contour of his cock beneath his suit pants.

“You promised to give me anything I want,” you whisper, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. He nods slowly, the rasp in his voice betraying the calm on his face.

“Anything. Name it.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say, pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants. Your fingers work the buttons open, one by one. “Let me.”

Hoseok exhales a heavy breath as you open his shirt and stroke your hands down his chest. You give yourself a moment to admire the lean strength of his body, fingers stroking over the metal tags that hang just above one dark, flat nipple.

His stomach tightens and his cock twitches in his pants when you tilt forward to press a soft kiss to the golden skin just above his belt. You work it open with unsteady hands and his pants follow just a moment later.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, nuzzling the outline of his length with your cheek. You push his boxers down his slim hips just enough to expose the head of his cock. “I don’t want you to think about anything but this.”

Hoseok groans when you flick your tongue against him.

His cock throbs under your fingertips through the fabric of his underwear when you dip down to tease the head with your mouth. You lap at the salty moisture gathered at the swollen tip and his head drops back.

“Sweetheart, please --” he grits out, hands reaching for your hair. He winds his fingers through the strands and jerks when you rake your teeth across the wet ridge under the head of his cock. “-- don’t tease me.”

Some other time you might play the delayed gratification game with him. You might take hours to torture him and keep him dangling at the precipice of pleasure. Tonight, though -- the only thing you want to do is make him come so hard he can’t see straight.

“I won’t,” you promise sweetly, pulling the rest of his thick length free from his boxers to wrap your warm fingers around him. You flick your gaze up to appreciate the way his head is tipped back in pleasure, lips parted.

“Look at me,” you murmur, pumping him with languid strokes.

His eyes are glassy with arousal when he opens them to gaze down at you. You make sure he’s watching as you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you draw your mouth across his length. He gathers your hair in his hands so he can appreciate the unobstructed view of your private show.

“No one gets to touch you anymore,” you whisper. You take him down as far as you can again, tongue dragging against the thick vein that runs the length of his cock. You are panting when you pull off him, tongue running the seam of your lower lip as you catch your breath.

“No one but me.”

Hoseok’s dick jerks in your hand in response, hand tightening in your hair as you lick a long stripe up his shaft. He chokes out a moan as you lick at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, eyes fixed on his.

“No more,” he croaks.

You pull your mouth away reluctantly, tongue swiping at the taste of him on your lips and the sight seems to set him off. He grabs your face with both hands, groaning into your mouth as he claims it.

He pulls away, panting.

“Lie back,” he demands between breaths. You comply without question.

Hoseok leans over you, arms braced on either side of your body as he drops his head down to take one nipple between his teeth. Your hips jerk at the stimulation and you squirm underneath him, thighs slippery with your own excitement. He laves at both nipples slowly, thoroughly, until they are aching and wet. Then he trails a soft line of kisses back up to your ear.

“I want to taste what’s mine,” he whispers, and a pang of arousal hits you so hard you forget to breathe. You lift your hips to help him pull your skirt away along with your soaked panties and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of you. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation.

Hoseok nudges your legs apart with his hands, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. His dark eyes are half-hooded with pleasure by the time he drapes your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans when you are fully spread open for him. He drops a kiss on your mound and your body jolts at the sensation, every nerve ending standing at attention. He moves lower, long fingers tracing the outline of your swollen cunt and you suck in a breath.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, dipping one finger into your damp heat. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you choke out, hands gripping the sheets as his finger flexes inside of you.

“Only for you.”

Hoseok makes a sound of satisfaction deep in his chest before sealing his lips over your aching clit. You shudder against his mouth when he pulls back to soothe you with the flat of his tongue. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined how you would taste,” Hoseok groans, licking deeply into your wetness. “It doesn’t even come close. Nothing comes close to this.”

“Hoseok --” your hands come off of the sheets to grip into his hair, “-- Hoseok, please don’t stop.”

Your senses are so heightened that just the pressure of the heel of his hand against your cunt is making you crazy. His finger crooks deep inside you, stroking against your swollen walls while his lips and teeth toy with your clit. You whine at the stimulation, at the wet drag of his tongue that has you writhing beneath him.

“You’re close sweetheart, I can hear it,” Hoseok’s voice is ragged with arousal. “Let me hear you. Come for me.”

You clutch his hair between your fingers, moaning brokenly as the heat between your legs simmers to a boil.

“Hoseok --”

“That’s it,” he praises you with dirty words spoken in the sweetest way. “Let me taste you. Let me hear you.”

Hoseok is prepared the moment you come apart.

He grasps your hips firmly in those large, warm hands of his -- tongue and lips persistent as the live wire inside you tightens and snaps. The force of your orgasm shakes your entire body and leaves you begging and breathless. Hoseok savors every drop of your release until your hips sink back into the mattress and you protest weakly against the threat of overstimulation.

The mattress dips under you as Hoseok joins you on the bed, lips swollen with use and mouth marked with your taste. His head dips into the hollow of your neck, nipping gently at the skin, while his fingers skate over the soft skin of your stomach and thighs.

You shiver in his hold, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the feeling of his body on yours.

“I want to watch you come like that every day,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. “Only for me.”

“Only for you,” you agree in a whisper, finding your voice after what seems like ages.

You slip one hand between you, fingers wrapping firmly around the rigid cock pressed against your stomach. Hoseok groans when you tighten your hand around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, feeling a pulse between your legs that seems to beat in time with the throb of his cock in your palm, “Fuck me please, I’m losing my mind.”

His hoarse chuckle sends a shiver up your spine as he moves to cover you completely with his body. He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance and you tilt your hips up into his.

“Please,” you plead again, lifting your head to brush your lips against his. “Now.”

He sinks his cock into you slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the tight fit of your cunt around him. The stretch inside of you is nearly too much -- you whimper when he bottoms out and he drops his forehead to yours.

“You okay? Am I hurting you?”

His entire body feels like a rubber band ready to snap -- coiled energy waiting to be released. But he holds back the instinct to move until you nod your agreement.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, nudging his hips to move with your own. You stroke your hands down the slick skin of his back. “I’m so full right now.”

Hoseok swears under his breath as he tentatively rocks his hips against yours, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You wrap your legs around him as the discomfort subsides and the only sensation that’s left is the pleasant pressure of his cock against your walls.

Hoseok’s hips move harder as your whimpers melt into moans.

“Dammit,” he swears, head dropping low between his shoulder blades. “So tight and wet for me. So perfect for me.”

You look up to take in the sight of his perfect face slack with pleasure, mouth parted and face flushed with exertion. His dog tags hang from his neck, swaying as his hips begin to piston in earnest. You pull on them to force his mouth close to yours.

“Only for you,” you whisper, “No one else.”

Hoseok’s steady rhythm stutters when you whisper those words into his mouth and press your lips to his. His hips jerk wildly as his release races up his shaft. He laces his fingers into yours, fucking you deep into the mattress in those final seconds as he loses all control to chasing his end.

He comes with your name on his lips.

************************

Hoseok breathes deeply into your hair as you stroke your fingers across the lean lines of his chest, fingers tracing the metal outline of his dog tags. You lie together like that for a while, skin to skin.

Your thoughts are loud in the quiet.

You’re used to the bitter sting of betrayal by now.

Long before Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk or Park Soo ever sold you out for a check, your own father betrayed you for the bottle. You of all people know too well that most people aren’t to be trusted.

But then Hoseok’s fingers drag lightly across your back and they bring you back to the here and now -- back to the promise he made to you tonight.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore.”

And you decide to trust just one more time.

************************

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @ppersonna @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena @strawbewymiwk @stephleee @jalexa83 @livanthi @fantasybangtan @trviahope @mono-kookie@hauntedlilies @sugasaidbultaoreune @yeojaa @secret-alphabets @hodginss@parkjimin-persona

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts mafia au #hoseok mafia au #bts tsundere #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years

Text

House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.

#every rose has its thorn #erhit au #fanfic #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #tabbyanderson #tabby #house of gold #twenty øne piløts #send me requests #please flood my inbox #please and thank you

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hyperfixatinglove · 3 years

Note

🥧 🕰🛍🗝📝✉️ for anyone? 💕

Deacon ramble time!

🥧 How did your s/i meet your f/o?

Deacon happened to pass by with his bike by chance. I locked myself in one of train rail cars cause I accidentally alerted a horde to my presence and hid there. Deacon is cynical but he isn't about to let someone die on his watch. Much less badly armed woman. His moral code is against it.

It wasn't large one, but even one of freakers scares me to retreating so about 30 of them will make me turn and run screaming. Deacon killed them quickly, experienced as he is.

He ended up on dropping me all the way to Lost Lake camp, as he met me near O'Leary mountains. I couldn't lie and say I would be able to make the long and dangerous journey myself without vehicle.

He tried to gauche some answers from me but he couldn't hear me over his bike's engine. I dumped all the info on him the minute he stopped the bike inside the camp.

I meet him when Boozer is in the infirmary from his septicemia.

🕰 How quickly did you become friends?

Not quickly.

Deacon is cynical and guarded. For him to let those walls fall around anyone he hadn't met before the outbreak.. is a phenomena not even he himself believed he could or would do.

I just kept talking whenever he returned to camp to sell meat or berries and checking up on Boozer. I looked after his buddy and talked to him for fun and we happened to see each other often because of it.

He did thank me for being there for his brother, it was a start.

We didn't become friends until Sarah came to Lost Lake. It was rocky road, him being focused on getting his wife back and killing hordes took him out camp for days at a time.

I became good friends with Boozer in the meantime! Guy's a joy to be around! And Ollie@peachships is lovely too!

(How am I gonna put Richie@polkadotheart in this universe of mine?)

🛍 What kinds of things do you like to imagine you and your f/o doing together in this universe?

I haven't given this spin much thought. I like to think myself in my favorite universes not this vice versa.

But domestic Deacon washing dishes while I tell him some elaborate story when I'm a quest in his house sounds nice.

Meeting all Mongrel's would be nice too.

🗝 What kinds of things do you like to imagine you and your f/o doing together in their universe?

Deacon takes me out for rides on occasion and tries to teach me how to survive so he won't worry as much. He denies, but he cares deeply.

I tend to annoy him by insulting his cap. He wears it like he's 14! It begs to made fun of! He in turn makes fun of my short stature.

We also play with Boozer's dog Jack! It's the cutest puppy in all of Farewell. And sometimes we sit by the porch and talk whatever late into the night.

After I get the basics down, Deacon upgrades to taking me with him to clear ambush camps. Either he saves my ass again or I learn to survive and live when the shit hits the fan someday.

I think I'd help around the kitchen in Lost Lake so I sometimes give him list of things he could try to find outside. He complains but comes back with the ingredients anyway. Softie.

Me and him team up on annoying Skizzo. Boozer also joins in when he can.

📝 Does your s/i’s presence in the source change your f/o’s story, and if so, how?

I think the fact that I'd be there gives him some hope of seeing Sarah again.

(I have this elaborate AU where Ushio is in Farewell looking forme because we got separated a long time ago and he utterly refuses to believe I'm dead. Deacon is annoyed by his idealism. Otherwise he's just as brutal and pragmatic as Deacon is. So when he actually finds me alive and well it gives him little bit more hope that his own wife is somewhere out there alive as well.)

Plus there's one more person who sees all the good he does for others!

Also I would just annoy Skizzo. Straight up prank him by pretending to be Newt that Deacon would lecture me about cause it was stupid impulsive thing to do as I almost got shot. But, we have fun annoying the jackass. Maybe he'd die sooner.

#friends #letters of love #does he need a tag now #knives tw #deacon why ya couldnt just stab skizzo #long post

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟑 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action, fluff (in this chapter!) (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 7.8k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); mentions of blood (PG-16 Rating)

A/N: I busted my brain cells writing the action scenes for this so please feel free to tell me what you think about this chapter!

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Jungkook steps away from Yoongi and races out of the Murder Sector and into the Left Wing. “Captain Jeon!” Yoongi hollers behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t turn an inch towards his way. His mind is set. There’s no time for this. Jungkook runs to the main building’s hallway, eyes set on the closing elevators. He could hear Yoongi and even Jimin and Taehyung close behind. Jungkook sprints. He reaches the elevator just in time and slides himself into the sliver of space left by the closing doors.

By the time Taehyung shouts “Captain!” the doors of the metal lift have already shut close.

Jungkook raps his knuckles on the gray door in hurried beats. It takes six more knocks until it bursts open.

“Why are you here?” Y/N pointedly looks at him, forehead creased.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything and makes his way inside the studio. He scrutinizes the room. The buckets of paint are still a mess, the owl painting still unfinished. Jungkook turns around and finally looks at the girl. “What do you mean with your text? That you saw a ‘Sooah Kim?’”

Y/N closes the door shut and shakes her head. Jungkook only notices she’s wearing a black, sleeveless, turtleneck cropped top. Black, baggy cargo pants cinch at the top of her black combat boots. She has her hair tied in a low ponytail, stray strands framing her face. She looks like a different person once again.

Y/N pulls the stool and sits, clasping her hands together on the table. A black dragon tattoo spirals from her upper arm to her elbow. Jungkook has never seen it before. Nor the monochrome hornet bee tattoo peeking from the center of her abdomen, its translucent wings spread wide. From the size of the insect’s abdomen, Jungkook thinks it could be a queen. He’s seen one of them in his trip to Vietnam with Namjoon last year.

Y/N tilts her head. Jungkook’s eyes dart back towards hers. Y/N chuckles. “So, that’s why you rushed here?” she raises a brow, “to know if I indeed saw a Sooah Kim?”

Jungkook walks to the table. “This is not a time for joking, Y/N,” he grits, slamming his hands on the table.

Y/N stares blankly at him. She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. Her top rides up. The hornet shows in complete view. It is indeed a queen. “If that is your question, then, yes, I saw a Sooah Kim. Though I don’t know why you have to come here right now without any schedule—”

“I need answers, Y/N. Right now.” Jungkook’s brows meet together. “The red file we saw yesterday—a blank turned up earlier containing the same Winston file and—”

“So you believe me now?”

Silence.

Jungkook takes a step back, “When did I tell you I didn’t?”

Y/N scoffs, “You don’t have to tell me, Jungkook. I know you didn’t. And now that one of my visions matched with your current reality, you’re suddenly open to trusting me with answers you so seek.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Y/N waves a hand. “I already expected it. Actually, I’ve already seen this day coming. You with that funny face,” Y/N points at him, chuckling, “God, I’ve never seen such a conflicted face in a while.” Y/N sits back up, “Anyway, I have to give you leeway in my judgment. After all, it’s not easy for anyone in an established system to believe in something that doesn’t belong in their paradigm. So now that you want your answers,” Y/N kicks back the stool in front of her, “Sit.”

Jungkook slowly makes his way around the stool and sits. It feels oddly nostalgic to be in the same place again. Even if this time he’s sitting in Y/N’s initial position, Y/N in his—their social position remains the same. He still has the shorter end of the stick.

“Let’s start now.” Y/N bends down to retrieve a small, black canvas bag from the stack of boxes and papers on her side. She produces a white folder and pushes it to the man.

Jungkook looks at Y/N. The girl only smiles. Jungkook’s eyes drop to the stationery in front of him. He flips it open. It’s a composite sketch of a woman in her late twenties. She has a small, square face with a rounded chin, short button nose, and small but wide, mono-lidded eyes. Her ears are quite big for her petite face, her shoulders are short, and her neck, elegantly long like a swan. Her hair is parted to the left, chopped at shoulder-length, dark strands softly framing her face. For lack of any better word, she is beautiful.

“That’s Sooah Kim.” Jungkook’s eyes dart back to Y/N. The girl explains, “I tried to do a read in the future based on what we found at Somerset Road. What I only got are short clipped frames. A white lobby of a hospital, dark metal bookshelves, a tipped hourglass, a picture of this woman, and a label at its bottom that said ‘Sooah Kim.’ Y/N cups her jaw, “there’s also a frame that showed Winston’s red file.”

Jungkook’s brows bunch up together.

Y/N continues, “So I figured the two of them must be connected. I drew a composite sketch of Sooah just in case we chance upon her someday. Though I’m not sure she will look this young. The vision looked kinda grainy so it must be memories. I’ve experienced seeing these kinds of things before and most often than not, they’re remnants of the past that will separately appear in the future. Like a prophecy.” Y/N looks at Jungkook, “I can’t put this into better words, so if you’d like, do you want to see them?”

“What will I see?”

“My vision,” Y/N smiles. “I could say you coming here as soon as I finished my read is actually a good thing. For you, that is. Not for me. You disturbed me from my work.” Y/N rolls her shoulders back, “The vision won’t be as vivid as I first saw it but the memory of it is still fresh in my mind. Good for you, you could do a little peek-in.”

“But how will I do that?”

Y/N leans forward and opens her left palm, “Hold my hand.” Jungkook looks at her confused. Y/N rolls her eyes, “Just hold my hand, goddamn it.”

Jungkook clears his throat. He raises his hand and ghosts it above Y/N’s. He closes his eyes and he fills every slot between her fingers with his own.

And then, Jungkook feels it—the fall. He feels like falling in a still body of water, the sound of the splash violent like the shot of a rifle. A gush of water soon fills his lungs, vanquishing the oxygen in each fiber of his muscles. Jungkook claws at his throat but no matter how hard he pulls at his skin, no matter how hard he coughs, no water spills out. He’s drowning in frigid nothingness.

The fall seems to go on forever. Jungkook stretches out his limbs but it’s useless. There’s nothing in his way that could tether him to the above. He falls deeper into the waters until he suddenly feels a ripple beneath his head. The world tips over and his head shoots out from the surface, setting off a spray of water from the movement.

There’s something cold beside his face but there’s no longer water filling his lungs. He’s breathing fine again. The fall has stopped. Jungkook’s eyes shoot open and he gasps. He’s floating on water. It’s cold and there’s nothing but darkness in front of him.

That is until the blackness filling his eyes flickers and all he could see now is light. Bright light. Natural like the ones that pass through the windows in the early morning. The light dims and it fades into the view as a brightly-lit white hallway replaces it. There are people in white coats walking. Some are running with assistants behind their steps. It looked like a hospital but devoid of any patients. The whiteness of the hallway faints into black and soon, there are no more hallways nor people dressed in white coats. Just metal shelves lined next to each other, foreboding as they stand under a dingy light that paints everything in murky dark green. Before Jungkook’s perspective could see more of the shelves, the view changes completely, and frames flash before his eyes in quick successions.

A tipped-over hourglass, wilted flowers falling down its hollow neck instead of sand. Black blood-like liquid running down a mountain of lackluster coins. A black eagle against a golden wall, its bloody wings severed, pinned next to its body, burning. And then, Jonathan Winston’s red file flat on a wooden desk. A phantom hand turns it open and instead of Jungkook’s crime record and thick documents of paper, it contains a picture of a woman with mahogany hair, long neck, and small, wide eyes staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. Inked letters smudge the white edges of the picture black, forming the words “Sooah Kim.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. It’s exactly like the woman Y/N sketched. Before he could ponder more, he is pulled back into the waters. His lungs squeeze tight and he’s falling once again. When he gasps, he’s no longer in the murky water, but slump over a wooden table, dry and warm. Jungkook flinches back and he feels a strong tug on his left arm. He raises his head and he meets a pair of dark eyes.

“So, did you see enough?”

Jungkook’s brows raise and he realizes he’s still holding Y/N’s hand. He immediately lets go as if he was burned. His eyes roam around. Buckets of paint lay on the floor. Newspapers are messily strewn around. The huge gap of a window letting sunlight inside. So much it completely fills the room with the golden hue of the afternoon. He’s back in Y/N’s studio and it’s ironically warm.

“You look so shocked.”

Jungkook whips his head to the girl. His eyes stretch wide as he wraps his hand around his throat. It doesn’t feel sore and he doesn’t feel out of breath.

“Your throat is fine, don’t worry,” Y/N snickers. “The water and the fall, they’re all just mental projections.”

“B-but the black blood, the hallway, the shelves, and the burning eagle—”

“That is my vision.”

Jungkook looks at her. Y/N tilts her head, “Did you see Sooah Kim?”

Jungkook’s eyes glance at the sketch composite in front of him. He nods, “y-yeah.” He turns to Y/N, “But I don’t understand, how did I see your vision?”

“Simple,” Y/N leans back in her chair, “Time jump to a memory.”

Jungkook brows shoot up, “I ju-jumped in your m-memory?”

“You didn’t make the jump. I let you jump into my memory.” Y/N crosses her arms, “I want you to see my vision. I couldn’t make sense of the hourglass, the coins, the bird, and their connection with the white hallway and dark shelves. I could only connect Sooah Kim and Winston. The driver of the Jaguar has a Winston file in his car. Of course, he’s interested in it. And Sooah appears to be involved with Winston’s case. So, I guess we could say she may be a key to solve your unidentifiable suspect.” Y/N flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry you had to suffer the waters. They’re boundaries of the memory map I set on myself.”

Jungkook’s forehead crease. “You set a memory map on yourself?”

“Of course. My business revolves around memories, I don’t want any of my memories messing with the ones I need for a case. Nor do I want my clients invading them, especially those who have access to time-traveling technology.”

“Why? What’s with people who can time travel?”

Y/N sighs, “In case you didn’t know yet from your job, memories mark passed time. Time is made sense by people’s memories in them. So, every travel you make, you’re jumping into memories. Your organization has eyes on almost everywhere to see and have the same memories the people have.” Y/N looks into his eyes, “With your kind of technology, you can easily get into anyone’s head.”

Jungkook presses his lips together.

“I think our meeting is done for today,” Y/N stands up and smiles, “I’ll send you off.”

Jungkook climbs down the steps of Mini-Palais, Y/N following behind. He doesn’t know why she suddenly wanted to see him off but he’s not against it. In fact, he feels relieved she’s being kind to him even after he doubted her skills. Maybe it’s because of the large sum of money he’s gonna wire to her at the end of the week. But Jungkook feels it’s more than that. At least, that’s what he wants to think.

Once they make it to the street, Jungkook turns around. “I’ll contact you as soon as I get something on Sooah Kim.”

Y/N doesn’t seem to focus on him because she’s eyeing the surroundings. Jungkook clears his throat.

Y/N darts her eyes back to his, “Where’s your car? You didn’t bring it?”

“Um, yeah. Its coding is today.” Jungkook shrugs.

Y/N smirks, “So you ran all the way here from your work just because you wanna get your answers?”

“Well, I didn’t run all the way,” Jungkook chuckles, “I took a cab.” The mirth in his eyes soon dies down when his phone rings in his bomber jacket. “One second,” he says to Y/N. He swipes the call to answer it.

“Yeah, Namjoon?”

“Jungkook, yeah, hi,” Namjoon says, his voice hesitant. “I don’t think I can make it. The Bureau wants us to do overtime for the backlog of files in the archives. I know you don’t have your car with you. I’m sorry I won’t be able to drive you to the hospital.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jungkook says, “I can commute on my own. Don’t worry.”

“But—”

“Namjoon, just focus on your job and come home safely, okay?”

Namjoon sighs, “Okay.”

“Bye,” Jungkook ends the call, slipping his phone back into his breast pocket. Turning back to Y/N, he sees the curious tilt of her head so he explains, “It’s Namjoon. He’s supposed to, um, drive me to the hospital.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Just have to get my stitches off,” Jungkook raises his right arm.

“Oh, from the crash.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook shrugs, “It’s alright. Nothing big. Namjoon made it sound serious. He tends to over-worry.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods. She looks down, sighing, and looks at Jungkook, “Well, if you want, I can drive you to the hospital instead.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows.

“I have a ride,” Y/N answers, turning around in her heel, “Wait for me, I’ll get my keys.”

Y/N disappears back into the staircase, leaving Jungkook alone in the street. Well, this is something he didn’t expect from her. He smiles to himself. He looks around the neighborhood. There’s a woman carrying her groceries in a flimsy newspaper bag. At the end of the street is a mother holding the hand of her daughter, probably just fetched her from school. Drunkards start early in their alcohol indulgence at a convenience store by the corner. And a senile man standing in front of his porch is staring intently at him. Jungkook looks down at himself. He’s still wearing FJO’s ID. Jungkook zips up his jacket, tucking away his ID. When he looks back at the man, he has already shifted his attention to the drunkards. Jungkook presses his lips together. This may be just a boundary between Middle Town and Down Hill but it’s still the other side of the town.

“Hey.”

Jungkook turns around and sees Y/N walking towards him, pushing a mechanical panther by her side. Jungkook thinks it’s a 1981 Kawasaki KZ400. It looks similar to the bike Taehyung has been fantasizing from his vintage magazines. Although the engine’s rust starkly contrasts the bike’s shiny black coat, it’s still a wonder to behold. It looks so old and new at the same time.

Y/N thrusts a white helmet in his hands, “Where’s your hospital?”

“Uh, Metropolis Medical City.”

Y/N hums as she shrugs on her leather jacket. She slips on her own black helmet and swings her leg onto the bike. She kickstarts the motor, the engine immediately revving alive. Y/N looks at him and cocks her head, “What are you waiting for? Hop on.”

Jungkook slips on his helmet and hesitantly rides behind her. Once he adjusts in his seat, he secures his hands on the back handle. “I-I’m okay now.”

Y/N starts and the sudden speed throws Jungkook off balance. His hands scramble on air until he frantically loops his arms around the driver’s waist.

Y/N looks back at him, “We’re gonna go pretty fast to keep up with the cars in Middle Town. So if you don’t wanna die before we even solve your case, you have to hold onto me like this.”

Even with her helmet on, Jungkook can see her smirking. With his heart still beating loud in his ears, Jungkook grumbles a begrudging “Fine” at her back.

The trip to the hospital is supposed to take forty minutes. However, Jungkook felt only fifteen minutes have passed. Exposure to movement makes it feel like everything is going in fast motion. Jungkook is so used to the isolation of his car as he speeds through the highways of Metropolis. He doesn’t need to constantly shift lanes to keep up with the other vehicles because inside his car, his pace is fine.

And now, he’s out in the open air and the wind is continuously beating against his jacket and the adrenaline from avoiding and overtaking speeding vehicles is nipping at his nerves. The concrete overarching flyovers twist and turn above him as it bridges Middle Town to Metropolis. The metallic kingdom of Metropolis shines in silver and polished glass and metal from afar. The rest of Middle Town lay on his side. It pales to Metropolis in the mediocrity of their old buildings and cheap cracking paint.

Y/N lowers herself onto her bike, climbing up her speedometer. Consequently, Jungkook leans further into her. Everything then seems to go much faster. So fast they warp into each other, producing a convoluting mass of moving streaks of colors. It’s dizzying but it’s beautiful. For once, Jungkook thinks feeling everything goes fast is liberating.

However, things are bound to return to the way they used to be. Jungkook finds reality sinking back too fast for his liking when they pull up to the huge parking lot of Metropolis Medical Center.

Y/N turns the key off and Jungkook hops down, taking off his helmet. He hands it to Y/N, “Thank you for this.”

Y/N pushes it back to him, “No, hold onto it. I’ll drive you to your home when you’re done.”

Jungkook scratches his nape, “You don’t have to.”

“Well, I want to. After all,” Y/N smirks, “it seems like you want to ride my bike for longer.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to reply. The small smile forming on his face says it all.

“Clean it as usual and make sure to still put on a bandage on it.” The doctor points to his closed wound, “With your job, it’s likely to swell or split open again if you don’t protect it well.”

“Yes, doc, thank you” Jungkook smiles at the woman as he pulls down the sleeve of his jacket. He picks up the doctor’s prescription, thanks the woman once again, and pushes the door open. When he steps outside, he sees Y/N sitting on the metal benches across, legs crossed, their helmets by her side. Jungkook makes his way and plops down on the seat next to her.

“Everything okay?” Y/N asks, pointing to his arm.

“Yeah,” Jungkook leans his back on the wall.

“Do you want to go now?” Y/N starts to picks up her helmet but Jungkook stops her with a firm hold her hand.

“No. Let’s stay for a while. I don’t feel like coming home yet.”

“You’re acting like a petulant eight-year-old.”

“Geez—”

“It’s actually funny,” Y/N snorts, “you remind me of how I hid from my service driver in middle school.” Y/N relaxes back in her seat, “The service ended up leaving me and I had to walk my way back home. My mom scolded the hell out of me all night ‘til next morning.” Y/N looks at him, “Have you ever done that before?”

“Um, no,” Jungkook looks down at his hands, “my school is actually near my home so I just walk from home to school and vice versa.”

“Lucky bastard,” Y/N sighs as she puts her arms behind her neck, “I had to commute for long ass hours for 17 years of my life.”

Jungkook’s phone rings and he opens the notification.

Sir Andrews: I covered you for today. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Take care, son (4:37 P.M.)

A fond smile makes its way to Jungkook’s face as he types, “Okay, sir. Thank you.”

Y/N leans forward and bumps Jungkook’s shoulder, “Your girlfriend?”

“Nah. It’s Sir Andrews.”

“The Chief General of FJO?”

“Yup,” Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket.

Y/N raises a brow, “You seem very close to him.”

“Well…yeah,” Jungkook purses his lips. His eyes wander to the passing hospital staff. He internally shakes his head. Jungkook’s eyes dart back to the girl, “Actually…he’s my benefactor. He, um, provided for me for years until I’m able to start providing for myself. So, of course, I’m close to him. He's like a father figure in my life.”

“Oh,” Y/N’s brows raise.

“Yeah, well, I’m lucky I got someone like him to finance my education. It’s not easy for a foster kid to make it out on their own without sufficient financial help.”

Silence.

Y/N’s eyes dart to her own interlocked hands, “I’m sorry…I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s a past memory I long got over.”

“Okay.”

Silence fills the air once again. Jungkook shifts in his seat to face the girl, “Say…Namjoon said you used to work for FJO ‘bout 10 years ago. I’m already in FJO around the same time. How come I didn’t see you around before?”

“I’m in the visual information sector. Under the Intelligence,” Y/N quirks a small smile, “We’re not exactly known to run around for everyone to see.”

“Well, you’re right in that.”

Y/N sighs, “It’s a shame it’s no longer in the current system. Forecrime was enough to cover their scope.”

“Yeah. It was kinda shocking at first because we’re used to sending in witnesses to the Intelligence and just wait for the finished composite sketch. The first time we tried the system with Forecrime, I was actually shocked. I didn’t expect the suspect’s face will be already clearly recorded as soon as the case was filed in.”

“But they work faster than our traditional papers and pencils so it’s a good upgrade,” Y/N muses.

Jungkook nods. He clears his throat. “So…have you been sketching composite drawings ever since you got in, or you got to work in other departments, too?”

“I just did composite sketches. I don’t know what else to do,” Y/N shrugs. “I graduated a bachelor’s in Forensic Science. I actually don’t want to join the police. I wanted to do fine arts. But my mother was the one financing my education so I followed what she said. Said it matches my wit and I’ll make plenty money out of it,” Y/N shakes her head, chuckling. “She doesn’t know how money works here. Look at me, I got a job from it but I’m not rich.”

“But did you like your work,” Jungkook looks at her, “even just a bit?”

“Hell yeah,” Y/N smiles. “Aside from feeling accomplished whenever my drawing helps the police catch the criminal, it feels good to be able to comfort witnesses and victims from their trauma. Whenever I interview them to gather descriptions, or let them pick distinct features they’ve seen from the catalog book, I see this gleam in their eyes. The one that that says, ‘I’m taking back the integrity and power this motherfucker took from me.’ It’s hella satisfying seeing them feel avenged in some way. And that, I helped them feel this way.”

Jungkook smiles, “Seems like you love your work. Not just a bit of it.”

“Of course,” Y/N tuts, “I wouldn’t stay so long and get over 400 criminals caught just because of my drawings.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…what made you resign?”

Y/N whips her head towards him.

Jungkook gulps. “Namjoon said you didn’t get dismissed because of the turnover of Intelligence to Forecrime. He said you…resigned.”

“Well, he isn’t wrong,” Y/N stands up, grabbing her helmet, “I did resign. As for the reason why,” Y/N looks at his eyes, “I have my own boundaries like you, captain.” She turns around and starts for the exit, “It’s getting late. I think it’s time to go home now.”

Jungkook follows behind, face conflicted.

The ride to his home felt completely different from earlier. Jungkook felt her stiff in his hold. The tension between them, undeniably thick. Jungkook feels if he says a word, he’ll set off a bomb. Y/N’s speed is faster than their trip to the hospital, reaching Jungkook’s condominium in record time. Whether it’s to go home earlier or to get away from him as soon as she can, Jungkook can’t tell. When she dropped him off, Jungkook said his thanks and bid her goodbye. Y/N didn’t say anything. She just waved goodbye and sped away.

Pushing himself off the table, Jungkook pulls up his phone.

Jungkook: I’m sorry I ticked you off. I didn’t mean to. (6:36 P.M.)

His reply came a second later.

Y/N L/N: It’s okay. You didn’t tick me off. (6:36 P.M.)

His phone rings one more time.

Y/N L/N: Good night. (6:37 P.M.)

Jungkook puts his phone down. He glances back at his computer.

“Error 401: The name you’re searching, ‘Sooah Kim,’ doesn’t exist.”

A loud thud resounds. Jungkook springs up and whips around his back.

Namjoon stands by the hall, frozen. The door pushed open wide, the doorknob recoiling from the wall.

Jungkook’s stiff shoulders immediately loosen. “God, don’t startle me like that.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon squeaks as he turns to kick the door close. Jungkook sees two huge gray briefcases by his friend’s feet.

He stands up and walks to the analyst. “What are these?”

Namjoon hangs his coat on one of the hooks behind the door. “Work from the Bureau. We still got loads of unprocessed transactions,” Namjoon goes to the table and grabs a cracker. “The chief was furious.”

Jungkook follows his friend, “Natasha Ryde?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, “We got a huge backlog from DOJ freezing our coordinating processes just to check if each one of us is clean. Now, they’re rushing us to let them see all the recent files of the Bureau. Natasha wants us to clean our shelves before DOJ can catch wind of the backlog and suspect something unnecessary again.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. If Natasha is busy cleaning up the Bureau, that means his favor to Chief Spencer will not be processed soon. And with DOJ sniffing on the backs of the Bureau, Namjoon won’t be able to help him. He has to find an alternative fast. Jungkook tilts his head, “The DOJ is still not finished with their conspiracy theory against the Bureau?”

Namjoon shrugs off his blazer, “Yup. Well, we practically hold more information than Precrime and Forecrime combined. Of course, they’re gonna sort us out first. And it’s only ‘bout time ‘til they go for the Basement Archives.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Why? I thought the Basement Archives just store outdated files of the previous system’s Bureau?”

“Old. Not outdated. Those are two different things. Even if some files there are deemed scraps from the past after the technology turnover, they still contain valuable information. Our computers there may look archaic but it doesn’t change the fact they’re made by the Bureau. No matter how slow they are, they still have access to the master system.” Namjoon chuckles, “But of course, you wouldn’t know that. The Basement is exclusive to the Bureau after all."

“Why are you telling me this?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Just wanna dispel the myth around it before it goes. DOJ may take it away as soon as they’re done with us.” Namjoon takes off his ID and chucks it on the cabinet by the hallway that leads to their bedrooms. Jungkook’s eyes immediately dart to the article.

“Enough about me. How are you?”

Jungkook whips his head towards his friend.

“What did the doctor say?” Namjoon points to his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook assures. “It healed well. Though I still have to wear bandages to prevent it from splitting open.”

“That’s good then,” Namjoon nods in understanding. He purses his lips. He looks back at Jungkook. “I heard about what happened earlier.”

“Oh that?”

“Hoseok told me on my way out. Jungkook,” Namjoon sighs, “If you called me you needed to leave for an emergency, I would have driven you to the hospital.”

Keeping his face straight, Jungkook claps Namjoon’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t fret too much about it. I got to the hospital early and I’m fine.”

“How did you get there early?”

“Well, uh,” Jungkook darts his eyes away, “Y/N drove me.”

Namjoon’s forehead furrows, “She drove you?”

Jungkook nods, “Yeah. She met me on my way and offered me a ride.”

“Didn’t know you two are being chummy now,” Namjoon hums, “It took us a month just to get her to talk openly with us.” He tilts his head and turns around, heading to his room.

As soon as Namjoon disappears in his room, Jungkook bounds to the cabinet. He grabs the analyst’s ID and dashes to his office. Pressing the buttons of his flat digital copier on his desk, he hurriedly slides the ID into the bottom slot. The machine starts with a soft whirr and in a second, its mechanical hands start to 3D print a duplicate of the ID.

However, Jungkook’s luck is short-lived. He hears two knocks sound against his door and Namjoon’s muffled voice in the hallway, “Hey can I come in?”

Jungkook bites his lip. His copier has just finished replicating one edge of Namjoon’s ID. It’s nowhere near done and he can’t let Namjoon see this.

Namjoon calls once again, “Nevermind, I’ll be quick anyway.”

Immediately, Jungkook grabs his jacket slung on his chair and drapes it messily over his desk, haphazardly covering his keyboard and copier.

In the same second, the office’s door swings open and Namjoon stands inside, wearing sweats and a faded blue shirt. The man smiles, “Sorry, I forgot something.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook rounds his desk and walks to the rectangular table in the center of the room. He leans his hip against it, the pressure from the edge softened by the table cloth running on its laterals. Jungkook chuckles, “I don’t know if you forgot, but this is also your office.”

“I didn’t forget,” Namjoon chuckles. He sits on his own desk on the left corner and places a water bottle by his side, “I felt like making an apology beforehand because I think my search will take a while.” He glances at Jungkook, “Even if we share this room, it feels like I’m intruding your space. With the amount of time you’ve spent in here, you practically live in this room.”

Jungkook presses his lips together.

Namjoon turns back to his desk and pulls drawer after drawer, fingers continuously searching what he intends to find. After another minute of fumbling, he pushes the last drawer close in a forceful shut, “Yep, it will definitely take a while.”

Jungkook raises a brow, “Why? What are you looking for?”

Namjoon stands up and nears the center table, uncapping the water bottle, “Keys. Bureau-issued. To open the briefcases I brought.” He tips the bottle to his lip and drinks. After a couple of gulps, he places the uncapped bottle on the table, “You mind if I go to your table?”

Panic sets off in Jungkook’s chest. His copier is just an inch away from his keyboard. Even if it has a soft mechanical whirr, it’s impossible for anyone who’ll sit in the chair not to know the copier is processing something. And with his jacket laying on it, it’s sure Namjoon will become suspicious. Jungkook tries to keep his voice stable, “I don’t mind. But can I ask why?”

“I used your copier to duplicate the key before I went to work. Seokjin called the second I was done and I had to use one of your memo pads so I pulled all your drawers ‘til I find them. I think they fell in one of the drawers.” Namjoon sends him an apologetic smile, “Sorry.”

Namjoon starts to make a move toward Jungkook’s desk. Before the analyst could move his hand away from the table, Jungkook tugs the table cloth. It sends the bottle off-balance and it topples to the edge, spilling its contents everywhere.

Namjoon whirls around and sees the wet mess. He immediately crouches down to flip up the bottle again. “Oh shucks, I’m sorry! I didn’t know I left it uncapped.”

Jungkook nears his friend, “It’s fine. I can clean it up.”

“No, I’ll clean up,” Namjoon insists. “It’s my mess. I have to clean it up.” He stands up and disappears into the hallway.

Jungkook steps back and takes a seat on his chair. Namjoon comes back with a mop in his hands. With Namjoon busy clearing the water spill, Jungkook opens his drawers and starts his search for the keys. His top drawer is devoid of anything but pens and other office supplies. His middle drawers only contain folders and papers. He feels like he has to restart his search again until his hands land in the last compartment in the bottom drawer. His eyes catch a metallic glint in the dark. He leans forward and sees the falcon insignia of the Investigation Bureau. Jungkook grins.

He sits back up in his chair just in time Namjoon returns in the office, the mop nowhere in sight.

Jungkook stands up, waving the two keys in the air, “Found them.”

“Oh god, thank you so much,” Namjoon sighs, retrieving the keys.

“Anytime,” Jungkook smiles.

“Sorry again ‘bout the water.”

“Hey, it’s just a spill,” Jungkook snorts, waving dismissively.

Namjoon sends him a timid smile. He turns around and pulls the door open.

“Hey, Namjoon. What time is your lunch tomorrow?”

Namjoon stops. “At 12. Why?”

“Gonna see if I can join you,” Jungkook grins.

Namjoon breaks into a grin as well, “That will be great then.” He closes the door behind him.

When Jungkook hears faint footsteps lead to the living room, he heads back to his desk and rips his jacket away. Two identification cards gleam under the light, unmistakably identical.

When Jungkook reaches the fifth floor, he goes to the leftmost door. He doesn’t knock. He pushes the thick wooden door and lets himself in.

“Oh, you’re here,” Matthew glances from his work. He motions to the leather chair in front of him. “Come, sit, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jungkook smiles.

Matthew piles his papers in a neat stack and pushes it aside. “How’s your arm?”

“Just got the stitches out yesterday,” Jungkook says.

Matthew nods, “That’s good then. You won’t have an injury hindering you anymore.” Matthew chuckles, “I missed seeing you run around the building doing god knows what. You’ve always been a busy bee.”

Jungkook smiles, “Well, I would have been like that if it weren’t for DOJ.”

“Right,” Matthew nods, his smile immediately slipping off his face. He clasps his hands together and sighs, “So, yesterday, you went off work so suddenly.”

Jungkook sits up straight. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry you have to cover for me. I just—”

Matthew holds up a hand, smiling, “You don’t have to explain yourself, son. I know you’re dealing with a lot of stuff. After all, you just survived a car accident. It must still be weighing down on you.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook shrugs.

Matthew darts his eyes to his desk. He sighs as he turns back to the captain. “Jungkook, you mustn’t allow Yoongi to see any gap.”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Sir?”

“Everyone is talking about how you rushed out of FJO with your team and Yoongi chasing after you. They don’t know where you went and surely, a captain being chased by his subordinates and the auditor is an unforgettable spectacle. I had Jimin relay an emergency excuse about your arm and luckily, that immediately quelled your sector.” Matthew’s smile falls, “But it seems it wasn’t enough for the auditor.”

Jungkook stills in his seat.

Matthew sighs, “I heard from Hoseok that Yoongi suspects you have some source—external or internal, whatever—to the blank that dropped yesterday. And he’s suspicious of that.”

Jungkook keeps his face indifferent.

“Look,” Matthew leans forward, “I don’t mind whether you consult external help or not. Desperate measures call for all the help you need. We do whatever we have to do and I respect whatever decision you’ll make. All I ask, son, is,” Matthew looks at him in the eyes, “be careful. Your sector is hot in DOJ’s eyes and I don’t want to see you get placed in a position where I can no longer help you. I can’t see you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. You didn’t spend 15 years climbing the hierarchy just to get prematurely dismissed from your job.”

Jungkook nods, “Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll take extra care from now on.”

“Okay,” Matthew turns back to his documents and Jungkook takes it as a signal to leave. He salutes at the Chief General and makes his way towards the door only to be halted by a call of his name.

“Jungkook, do you still take those…medications?”

The captain doesn’t reply.

Matthew sighs, “Make sure Yoongi won’t know about that.”

“Of course, sir,” Jungkook pulls the door open, “Thank you, once again.”

Stepping out of the Chief General’s office, Jungkook heads to the elevator and pushes the button for the archives. It’s time to work now.

Jungkook has searched for Sooah Kim in Precrime, Forecrime’s systems. He even checked in Freedom Security’s system. But nothing has turned up. He even looked into Jonathan Winston’s history of associations and not one Sooah Kim appeared. He tried searching through hospitals, laboratories, and research centers for an employee or associate named Sooah Kim. But still, nothing. He’s already exhausted every search engine and system of both the general public and the government and yet he’s made zero progress. Holding onto the duplicated ID of his friend, Jungkook’s only choice left is FJO’s Basement Archives.

Jungkook looks at his watch. 12:10. He pulls up his phone.

Jungkook: Namjoon, I think I’ll do a raincheck on our lunch (12:10 P.M.).

The elevators open on the third floor.

“Captain Jeon,” Sally salutes at him. Jungkook returns the salute and pushes past the heavy glass doors of the Archives. He heads to the left aisle and walks to the 5th row shelf. He ghosts his fingers over the line of files until it lands on a particular red file—the recent attempted assassination of James Kim. He opens it and slowly flips page after page.

From his peripheral, Jungkook looks at his right. The walkway is devoid of any people. There’s just metal shelves and files. The hallway it connects to, the center aisle, is devoid of people as well. Jungkook looks up. Only about 4 cameras are installed above the aisle.

Jungkook spends another minute flipping through the file before he closes it shut and inserts it back in its place. With his alibi set, Jungkook walks along the 5th row until he reaches its corner where he disappears from the vicinity of the cameras.

Jungkook turns around and starts on the center aisle. To anyone who’s looking at the surveillance cameras, it will look like Jungkook’s just viewing a file in the 5th row’s corner, which just happened to be a blind spot in surveillance. With the general security disregard on the old and faded Archives and its basement level, Jungkook takes advantage of the system’s blind spots as he threads along the aisle, guided with the knowledge of the general scopes of standard surveillance cameras.

But just when he’s about three feet away from the end of the aisle, two staff members stroll across, pushing a huge cart of files. Jungkook swerves to the nearby shelf and hides. When he glances up, a CCTV camera is staring right at him. Jungkook holds his breath.

Nothing. No alarm has been set off. No red lights are sweeping across the room. Just nothing.

Sweat runs down Jungkook’s temple.

The chatters and footsteps fade away and still, nothing.

A couple of seconds pass by in silence.

Jungkook slowly stands up. The silence remains unbroken. No one must be watching.

Jungkook looks at his watch. 12: 20. He only has 10 minutes left of leeway from his lunch.

Jungkook comes out of hiding and continues forward, making it to the end of the aisle. He arrives at a plain wall coated in navy paint. Old and faded. Just like the rest of the Archives. Jungkook spots the rectangular metallic plaque on his left. He scans Namjoon’s duplicated ID under it. A second later, a faint shadow outlines a figure of a door onto the wall. It pops open and the door slides to the right, revealing an escalator that leads downward. Jungkook steps inside and the door immediately shuts behind him.

The Basement Archives is dark, its walls painted in olive green. Several dim hanging lamps light up the room. Jungkook knows the Basement Archives is connected to the second floor of FJO’s main building, behind the hallway that bridges Precrime and Forecrime. But he didn’t expect it to be this extensive. The Basement Archives is about the same height as the main floor. Its area, a half of its upper floor. What makes it a seeming replica of the main floor though are its metal shelves. Unlike the main floor’s circular labyrinth, the Archive Basement’s shelves are aligned in straight horizontals, like a snake coiling on itself. And far ahead, Jungkook could see 2010s computers lining the room’s perimeter.

Only when Jungkook steps away from the escalator does he only see the similarities between the basement and the main floor. The metal shelves are rusting in their edges. The files and books they hold, covered in dust. Even the small indents on its metal flooring are worn thin. Some are even already busted. The Basement Archives is old and faded. Jungkook only hopes what Namjoon said is right.

Jungkook walks past the rows of shelves and heads to computers. Grabbing a seat, he sets off to work.

The monitor alights to FJO’s coat of arms. And then, it displays the FJO standard wallpaper. The keys of the keyboard instantly crunch under Jungkook’s fingers as he hits on the shortcuts for FJO’s system. The processing of the command takes a while and when it opens, the elements are scattered and labeled in unfamiliar names. Nevertheless, Jungkook manages to get inside the Surveillance system after a couple of minutes of fumbling. He deletes the footage of him hiding behind the shelves and stretches the clip of him just walking through the hallway. Satisfied, he confirms the command and watches the new CCTV footage play. Only his back is shown to the camera from his entry inside the Archives to his walk towards the Basement Archives. He looks just like any Bureau analyst entering the Basement.

With his identity secured, Jungkook goes to the general system and starts his search for Sooah Kim.

Only to arrive at—

“Error 141: The name “Sooah Kim” doesn’t exist in the system.”

Jungkook squints at the monitor. He refreshes the computer again and again. He tries to search for additional keywords: “hospital,” “research center,” “laboratory,” and “Jonathan Winston.” But he arrives at the same result:

“Error 141: The name “Sooah Kim” doesn’t exist in the system.”

Jungkook sighs frustratedly. He clicks again and again and the computer produces the same result again and again. Jungkook pushes himself off the desk. There’s got to be a way to find this Sooah Kim. If she’s related to Winston’s assassination, she must be inside the system. Jungkook glances around the room. Just then, his eyes land on a door on his far right.

The door is made of metal and it’s almost invisible in the dark save for the black and yellow hazard tape under a note that says, “Restricted. Authorized Personnel Only.”

Jungkook dashes to the door. He spots the metal plaque beside it and scans the ID.

A red light glows from the plaque’s sensor. The plaque’s small screen lights up and flashes in red: “Access denied.”

Jungkook scans it again.

Red light. “Access denied.”

Jungkook bites his cheek.

Red light. “Access denied.”

Grunting, Jungkook picks up his phone.

Jungkook: Sir, do you have any updates on last time’s work?” (12:25 P.M.)

Jungkook’s personal phone rings. Seeing the familiar set of numbers, Jungkook picks it up.

“Jungkook.”

“Chief Spencer.”

Nathan sighs, “Look, I’m afraid the authorization of your unrestricted access to the Archives may get delayed. I already applied for the authorization of access but the Bureau hasn’t responded yet. I heard from one of the lieutenants there DOJ is keeping a hard eye on the Bureau. Natasha refused my calls, too. I think she will not be accommodating anytime soon. As for the Memory Temple…the answer is obvious.”

Jungkook pinches his nose bridge. He already expected this will go against his plans but he didn’t know it will be at this dragging extent. He heaves a sigh, “I understand, sir.

“Okay. I’ll try on my end to get through the Chief.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, too. Please extend my gratefulness to Chief General Andrews as well. My wife loved the necklace.”

“I’m glad she did, sir.”

“Yeah,” Nathan says. A beat. Nathan clears his throat, “I’ll end the call now.”

“Goodbye, sir,” Jungkook replies. The line goes dead.

Jungkook leans his back against the wall and closes his eyes. His heartbeat rings in his ears. Loud. Just like when he almost had Leigh Anderson in his hands. Jungkook releases a frustrated sigh. He’s come all this way just to have nothing. Again.

His personal phone vibrates in his hands, jolting his eyes open. His eyes widen at the screen.

Y/N L/N

He immediately swipes to answer. “Y/N, hi—”

“Jungkook. A red file will drop about—now. Listen to me. Take the stairs, okay?”

Jungkook walks away from the door, forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“If you follow the crime record you won’t catch the killer.”

Jungkook shuts the computer and jogs to the escalator, “What killer?”

“Look, you don’t have much time. So listen to me. Just take the stairs.”

The call abruptly ends. Jungkook looks at his phone, bewildered. Right at the moment, his work phone vibrates with another incoming call.

Jungkook whips it out from his pocket and presses it to his ear, “Taehyung.”

“Captain Jeon, come to the Murder Sector, quick. It’s a red file.”

Jungkook halts.

“The time of the crime is in 10 minutes. Hurry.”

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N pt. 2: Heya Hons! Thank you for reading! This chapter is quite short compared to the first two. The next chapter will be much longer though hehe. Writing this chapter is probably the most I have ever re-written so many scenes again and again. Especially the action scenes, they gave me a headache. Nevertheless, I’m happy how they turned out! What do you think about them? Feel free to talk with me! I actually love talking with my readers!

I think the next update will come two weeks from now. So far, I’m noticing I’m able to post for this series bi-weekly. Although this week, I’ll focus on the Chapter 3 of my yoongi office au series, The Heart Holiday. I promised my hons the THH!couple is coming this June but my finals two weeks ago fucked up my schedule and now I’m quite behind my supposed posting date. Anyway, I’ll make it up to you hons! Your wait is gonna be worth it because a lot is going to happen in THH Act 3!

As usual, if you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all to my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probably your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading My Time! :”)

Note pt.2: As you know, this is a mystery fic so it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

164 notes · View notes

violetwolfraven · 4 years

Note

41 for javid would work so perfectly ahfkfjxhsga and/or 34, whichever one u want 🥺🥺🥺

I was scared to come out and ask you out because I didn’t know our entire friend group was gay but I definitely know now???

and

We broke up but I found the letters you wrote me before that and I still love you so wanna get back together? (did I copy this from one specific fic I read? Possibly.)

Ok! Buckle in your seatbelts, y’all! This is gonna be a MASSIVELY LONG THING! Also @61-flaming-sour-cherry-scones I love your url. Just getting that out there. Modern AU, btw. Also does this end in December, 2019, conveniently avoiding COVID? Possibly! :)

...

Jack didn’t mean to find that box, but in his defense, it was not hidden well. Just in the back of his closet, which he hadn’t cleaned out since... damn. Since the breakup.

And Jack was fine with said breakup, by the way. Him and Davey weren’t right together anymore.

And Jack didn’t smile less, or work himself harder as a distraction, or whatever bullshit his brothers, mom, and all his friends said.

If Davey never texted first anymore, or barely even talked when friends asked him to hang out or whatever, that was none of Jack’s business.

Jack had texted Davey exactly once since the breakup, because Elmer had told him that he had an anxiety attack in a bar, which he was only there in the first place because he was designated driver.

Davey had said he was fine, and that meant he was, right?

Davey had not mentioned anything about leaving a shoebox in Jack’s closet. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t mentioned it, ever.

Did it sting that Jack’s ex had kept a secret box of... something? from him? Maybe. Whatever the case, Jack was curious by nature, and he was definitely opening the box.

It was... letters? Sealed letters in envelopes, the earliest one on the very top, in one corner of the box. The only thing written on it was a date; September 7th, 2011.

That would be... 8th grade? Probably the first day of school? Jack was super confused. Still, he opened the letter.

Dear Jack Kelly,

I know this is terrible and corny and I’m probably going to shred this letter with the pocket knife Sarah got for our last birthday, but I had to write it down somewhere.

I think I’m gay. Specifically, gay for you. And I know that’s weird, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re like the living personification of the moon. (Not the sun. I’ve never understood why people compare their crush to the sun. Nobody likes looking directly at that.) You saw me sitting alone before school and you took me in. I mean it. You brought me over to your friend group and said I was a new kid who was going to be your friend now, and the whole group just adopted me without questioning it. All of you are so nice. At first I thought it was a trick, but then I saw you comforting Blink when he had a panic attack. (Also, I’m still getting used to the nickname thing. That’s still weird and I’m not sure how I feel about the one you gave me.) You were so gentle with him, Jack. You knew exactly how to calm him down and you were so patient with him while you helped Mush drive the fear away. I didn’t think boys our age knew how to be like that. I do now, because of you. Well, and because of Race being, well, Race. I don’t think anyone could mistake him for a bully. Or Crutchie. Or Romeo. Heck, most of your group is just so nice I can barely believe it. I think I’ll bring Saz to meet you tomorrow. She already made a friend, but she said that this girl, Katherine, said she already knows you. Maybe we can all be friends.

I really wish we could be more, but I know that would never work. I can’t tell anyone I’m gay. You’d think I’m a freak. But since you’ll never read this, I can admit it here: I have a massive crush on you, Jack Kelly.

Sincerely, David Davey

Jack was not going to let himself cry about a letter written in 8th fucking grade. He was, however, very confused about why it was in his closet.

A letter from before Davey was out of the closet found in the closet. If Jack wasn’t so goddamn depressed, he would appreciate the irony.

The next letter was dated: September 24th, 2011.

Dear Jack,

We’re all friends now. Gotta say, I already can’t imagine my life without you and the other guys. And maybe I didn’t meet Kath that first day, but she’s probably my best friend, besides you, of course. She’s the only other one with brain cells, besides maybe Specs. Us three had to talk you and the others out of riding a shopping cart Albert stole from Walmart down a hill yesterday. Honestly, would it kill you to be a little smarter? I know for a fact you can be, Jack Kelly. You and the others actually have a fair amount of brain cells each when apart. It’s only when the only group gets together that you all do stupid stuff.

I didn’t shred the first letter. I think maybe I’ll keep these and we can look back someday and laugh about me having a crush on you in middle school. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get over it before it ruins our friendship.

I honestly don’t see how I’d survive losing you, Jack. So, please, do me a favor and keep being oblivious to how I really feel about you until I digest those butterflies you give me.

Sincerely, Davey

Damn. Reading that was like a punch to the chest and Jack had to take a deep breath before moving on to the next letter.

The next few were just mundane stuff. Little notes on how Jack laughed or interacted with certain friends or whatever. The way he painted each friend something little for the holidays and how they all had a picnic potluck for Thanksgiving.

Then he got to one that was different: January 22nd, 2012. It was written in a panicked, hurried script.

Oh, damn. Jack remembered what this was about. What happened January of 8th grade.

Dear Jack,

Something’s wrong. You’re on my couch right now, crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re trying to put on a brave face for Les and failing miserably. Medda didn’t have time to say much when she dropped you, Crutchie, Race, and Romeo off, so all I really know is that Blink is in the hospital and she’s gonna pick up Mush before going to see him. Crutchie is trying to comfort you, by the way, but he’s crying nearly as much as you are. Race and Ro are in shock, I think. They haven’t said much. Sarah’s making them hot cocoa. I’m in my room, writing this really quick because I don’t know what I can do. You’re so good at comforting people, but I don’t know how. I wish I knew how you did it. I think I’ll go try one of the things I’ve seen you do with panic attacks. It’s got to be better than nothing.

The rest was calmer, clearly written later.

It turns out Blink is in the hospital because his dad put him there. And he wouldn’t be alive at all if he didn’t call Mush in a panic right when he heard him get home. Mush called the cops and they barely got there in time. Blink was already half-dead when they did, but they managed to keep him alive long enough to get an ambulance. God, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they’d been just a little bit slower.

Medda called you a couple hours ago to let us all know that Blink is in bad shape, but he’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna try to file for custody of him, but Mush’s mom is gonna try, too, just to give him twice as much chance of staying with us. His dad is in jail, but you and me agree that he deserves to die for what he did. In the selfie Blink made Mush send the group chat, there was more bandage visible on his face than skin. It made me so damn angry, but I didn’t show it because you were so angry you almost punched a hole in my wall.

I’ve made a decision, Jack. I can’t be separate from the group anymore. I always hang with Kath off to the side where we can intervene as the voices of reason if needed, but I’m not going to do that anymore, because I. can. not. do this again. I want our friends to trust me like they trust you so maybe if one of them is in a house with a dad that would beat them within an inch of their life, they’ll tell me and I can get them out.

I guess that means I’ll have to get better at lying. I’ve been staying separate mostly to hide my crush. And I think I’m pretty good at that, but being right at the center of things, with you? I’ll have to be careful to make sure no one notices. Especially not you. I hope I can pull it off.

You definitely aren’t making it easy on me, are you? You’re passed out in my bed, for heaven’s sake. But it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.

Sincerely, Davey

Jack remembered that night as one of the worst of his life. He’d thought Blink was dead by how Mush sounded when he called. And even though it turned out he wasn’t, he was going to be okay even if he lost an eye, after Jack’s childhood, he’d always hated when he couldn’t protect the people he loved.

Davey had been the one to reach him in that bad place he fell back to, the one where people he loved, kids he considered his little brothers, were getting hurt. Davey had pulled him out of there, and though it would take Jack months to realize it, that was the day he started to fall in love with him.

The next Monday, though, Jack had tried to give him space. Knowing how intimidating it all had to seem, he wasn’t sure if Davey would bail on them.

But he didn’t. Jack had never stopped appreciating how Davey had seen the darkness under the innocent, normal friendship and stayed anyway.

The next few letters were mostly a lot of pining on Davey’s side as he struggled to integrate himself more deeply into the group.

Jack still remembered that shift, how once Davey earned the others’ trust, Jack had gone from being the only one everyone was relying on to half of a pair that a lot of their friends had jokingly called ‘mom and dad.’

It was kind of sad, knowing that for most of them, Jack and Davey gave them more love and attention than their actual parents did, but the two of them would have to do—and they had. For a long time, the two of them were an unstoppable duo of hugs and snacks and homework help.

The letter from June 15th, 2012, had weird spots on it, almost like... almost like tear-marks. It was shorter than the previous ones.

Dear Jack,

Saz just came bouncing into my room to announce that she’s going with you to the Eighth Grade Dance.

I don’t know why I’m sad about it. I knew you and me would never be a thing.

But it still hurts, Jackie. It hurts so much.

I’m going with the rest of the group, just as friends. No one has dates except you, and I think maybe Romeo.

Jack knew for a fact that Blink and Mush had gone together because he remembered accidentally walking in on their first kiss, but apparently, Davey hadn’t known that.

Les is knocking on my door, so I’m gonna have to drop my math textbook on the floor really loudly so I can tell him I’m crying because I fell.

Sincerely, Davey

There wasn’t another letter until 4 months later, Octobe 16th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

So. Something weird just happened. Saz just came into my room and said she’s not going with you to Homecoming because you’re going with Kath. I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t seem sad about it?

She asked me if I wanted to go with anyone and seemed surprised I said I didn’t. (Not like I’m telling her a part of me wishes I could go with you.) Then she mentioned that Blink and Mush are going together, and I don’t see why she cares because if you don’t have a date why not go with a friend, right? Why do girls have to be so confusing?

Sincerely, Davey

Oh. Oh, God.

By the beginning of freshman year, Blink and Mush hadn’t been the only gay couple in their friend group.

Albert and Finch had gotten together over the summer, and so had Smalls and Sniper.

Romeo and Specs were in the ‘flirting terribly’ phase, and though Jack didn’t know it at the time, Race was already sneaking around with Spot by that point.

Ike had asked Hotshot to that Homecoming, though they wouldn’t officially become boyfriends until almost a year later, Buttons and Elmer became official at that dance, and Jojo and Mike had that falling out because of misread signals towards the end of it.

Hell, Jack only went to that dance with Kath because she couldn’t let her parents know she was actually going with Saz.

Homecoming freshman year was... eventful, to say the least.

And Davey had known exactly none of this. That... explained a lot.

Being only freshmen, none of the couples were exactly casual in their relationships. They didn’t kiss in front of people, and a few were too embarrassed to so much as sit next to each other at lunch. With the ones who weren’t embarrassed, it still honestly wasn’t much more than the affection they all already showed among friends.

God, if Jack had known how scared Davey was to come out, as he said in the next few letters, he would have... what? Told him he loved him right then and there? Probably not, but he would have done something differently.

The next really significant letter was dated December 11th 12th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

I have no idea what to think.

I’m in the bathroom right now, and it’s just after midnight on 12/12/12. You and your brothers threw a party in case the world ended with the whole friend group. It was kind of like a New Year’s party, but with a lot more cynical talk about the coming apocalypse and bet placing on what said apocalypse would be. Towards the end, we all got caught up in the drama and sleep-deprivation and started giving speeches about how much we loved each other. It was cringy, but in a good way? I’m sure we’ll laugh about it someday.

Or maybe we won’t. Because I have no idea what to think anymore.

Oh, shit. This was the part Jack was kind of dreading reading.

I’ve been terrified to come out because I thought I’d get kicked out of the group if you guys knew I was gay.

Which was why it was such a shock when the countdown to midnight ended and half my friends kissed friends of the same gender.

Jack remembered yelling at them to break it up. He’d been so busy being exasperated with his kids that he hadn’t even noticed Davey had slipped away until Crutchie pointed it out.

It was quick, so I don’t think I could name all the pairs if I tried, but I definitely saw Sarah kiss Kath, which, honestly, explains a lot.

I can’t help but wonder... Why didn’t anyone tell me? How long has this been going on? Has it been since the beginning and I was just too oblivious to see it?

Oh my God. Now that I’m looking for it, I can’t stop seeing it. The way Blink is defensive and angry all the time and he’s soft for Mush. The way Sarah hates spending time on her hair and she’ll sit for hours letting Kath try out styles on her. The way Buttons and Elmer just do little things for each other every day. None of them are subtle and I am an idiot.

Jack had to laugh at that.

Does this mean I should come out, too? I know now no one would judge me for it, but... I don’t want to mess things up. I love our friends, and I don’t want to lose them. If I lost them, now, it would be because I like you, specifically. Would you be disgusted with me if I told you?

“No,” Jack whispered, before remembering that this was 14-year-old Davey, and he wasn’t here.

I like to think you wouldn’t be, but I can’t risk it. If I lose you, I lose all of them. And if I have doubts about if I could live through losing you, I definitely can’t survive losing everyone. I love them all so much. I love you.

Jack sucked in a breath. As far as he knew, this was the first time Davey had ever said anywhere that he loved Jack.

But I can’t tell you that. So if I come out, it definitely won’t be by saying who I like.

Love, Davey

Jack totally wasn’t crying as he reached for the next letter. It was just current events, random stuff. There were certainly a lot of letters, weren’t there? Davey had documented everything, from Jack attempting to teach him to draw, to the time they both auditioned for the school play, to that time they had to talk Jojo off a ledge when he realized he loved Mike. That one was short but bad. (Honestly, Jack still hated Jojo’s super religious parents for that. Fuck Jojo’s parents.)

Davey did come out in a letter from almost six months later, but it wasn’t until Homecoming sophomore year that things started getting really interesting.

Dear Jack,

I honestly might never talk to you again outside these letters. Sarah’s banging on my door telling me to, and I’m quoting her here, “open the fuck up, David Jacobs.” Mom’s yelling back at her to watch her language. They’re now having a screamed bitching match in the hallway.

Long story short, we were at Homecoming and you asked me to dance. My brain kind of short-circuited, but I said yes right as a slow song came on. Shockingly, you didn’t seem to mind, and you danced with me to Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Oh, God, Jack remembered that song. It had been their song. He still couldn’t listen to it anymore.

You were singing along to it and smiling at me. It was really sweet, and it was kind of my dream, to be honest, and I guess I lost all control of my body for a second because I kissed you during the last chorus and I didn’t stop kissing you until the end of the song.

Jack remembered that like it was yesterday, because it was their first kiss. It was a million perfect colors exploding across Jack’s brain and feelings he could barely identify swirling into a moment more beautiful than any painting he could ever create.

Then a faster song came on and I don’t know if anyone saw, but I really hope they didn’t because if they did that means they saw what happened next. Which is: I ran away. I ran all the way to my car and drove home and locked myself in my room. Sarah came home not 5 minutes later, so I think she knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I can face you after this. In hindsight I think you were kissing me back, and if you were that means I just ran out on you and it probably hurt when I did. If not, that’s even worse because I kissed you and you probably just didn’t pull away out of pity.

Holy shit, I think you’re here, now. I can hear you outside my door with Saz, and maybe Kath, too. She’s trying to calm her down, which, honestly, good luck, Kath. Wait. No. Shit. I guess being her girlfriend has its benefits. It’s just you, now. You’re talking really softly, but I can’t understand you through the door. This is why we enunciate, Jackie.

Jack rolled his eyes on reflex.

I’m still pretty scared, but I think I’m gonna open the door. Scratch that, I’m definitely gonna open it. If you yell at me, I’ll probably yell right back. Funny, isn’t it? How I never would have done that before meeting you? If we have a huge fight, remember that you’re the one who taught me not to censor myself. David never would have even opened that door, but Davey is your monster. Good luck. I’ve out-argued you before, Jackie, so you’ll need it.

I should stop stalling and open the damn door.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Love, Davey

Reading that last sentance, Jack froze.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Time was a bitch, because by all accounts, they were both broken-hearted, now.

Jack wiped away his tears and realized there was a little bit more writing.

P.S. I guess you get to live, Jackie, because we had a talk and you kissed me again and now we’re together. Like, boyfriends. I can’t stop smiling. It’s stupid. I’m probably not going to sleep tonight and it’s all your fault because my stomach is full of butterflies and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you.

Jack didn’t let himself process that, going for the next letter instead.

Oh, shit. November 1st, 2013. This was going to be a bad one. Still, Jack took a deep breath and started reading.

Dear Jack,

Well, today was emotionally draining. (Halloween was fun, but what came after definitely is not.) It’s already past midnight, but it’s okay because I’m sleeping over at your house tonight. After Saz and I explained the situation, Mom and Dad agreed we should. God, said situation it makes me so angry.

Katherine’s parents kicked her out. They found out about her and Sarah, made her pack a bag, and tossed her away like she was nothing.

She’s 16. She’s a goddamn child like the rest of us. How could they do that to her? I guess it’s good she’s out of that environment, where she has to hide who she is and walk on eggshells with every conversation, but she’s on your couch right now, crying so hard she can’t even drink the tea Medda made her. Sarah and you are trying to calm her down, but I hate seeing her like this. Kath always seems kind of unshakable, like nothing anyone says will get to her. I’ve never seen her this broken. Judging by the look you’re giving me from across the room, you haven’t, either.

You think I’m making a grocery list. Medda told me to, seeing as how she’s busy helping clean out your guest room, Saz is on ‘shoulder to cry on’ duty, and I’m the only boy who lives with a girl. Kath didn’t get to pack much more than a couple of outfits and her toothbrush.

You know what? Fuck it. You and me are her parents, now. You’re good with that, right? We’re already stand-in Mom and Dad for several of our friends—what’s one more? Ha ha, you and me have so much practice already that we are going to be great parents for real one day.

Jack sucked in a breath. Real parents? As in, the two of them staying together long enough to have kids?

Wow. That is wildly inappropriate to think about when we’re literally a couple of 15-year-olds. Also, it makes me think about how Kath is technically a few months older, but whatever. I guess I should actually make that grocery list, now, and stop daydreaming about a hypothetical future while one of our kids now is sobbing across the room from me.

Love, Davey

Davey had never even told Jack he wanted kids.

Sure, they were both a little young for that, but in the future..? Jack had always been scared that he wouldn’t be a good dad, after never having a good dad, himself, but sophomore year Davey was right. He had gotten a fair amount of practice with his friends.

That night, when Kath showed up at the Larkin house, crying so hysterically the makeup from her Halloween costume was running and saying she didn’t know where else to go, Davey was the first person Jack called. Him and Sarah had shown up not fifteen minutes later, probably having been lucky not to pick up a speeding ticket (or you know, gotten arrested for underage driving without an adult) on the way.

15-year-old Davey was right. That night was the most broken Jack had ever seen Katherine. Even if it had worked out okay in the end, with Kath staying with them and being their new sister in every way but on paper, Jack still kind of wanted to throat-punch her parents.

It was... oddly comforting, to know that Davey felt the same. He hadn’t shown it back then, knowing Kath needed him calm, but... to be honest, Jack would have feared an angry Davey Jacobs more than an angry Jack Kelly. You’d get punched by an angry Jack, but an angry Davey? He was smart enough to burn down your world. Jack smirked, thinking about how lucky the Pulitzers were that Davey possessed impulse control.

Most of the rest of the letters were just Davey talking about their relationship as it evolved or recounting whatever drama happened to be going on, (with one in the middle of junior year that was basically just ‘wtf Race is secretly dating Spot Conlon???’) because as the only group of out gays in the school, a few of whom happened to be in not-so-good homes, there was always drama.

Then came the stress of senior year, SATs, and college applications. Davey and Jack had a few fights, which were all well documented here. 17-year-old Jack and Davey hadn’t known that those fights were the beginning of the end.

The letter dated June 5th, 2016 was the one that finally made Jack cry for real .

Dear Jack,

We’re fighting again. We have before, but this time, it’s actually serious.

I get that you’re going to school in Santa Fe and I’m staying in New York. What—did you expect me to follow you all the way across the country? I’m not asking you to stay, because that wouldn’t be fair of me. You’ve got dreams and a scholarship to an art school and that is great. I’m happy for you. But I’m not going with you, because why would I? I’ve got dreams, too. Did you think I would put my life on hold for you?

We can’t stay kids forever, Jackie. Growing up means things change. I thought you knew that. Our friends are spreading out across the country and most of the couples aren’t going to be in the same state. Hell, Specs is going to Harvard in Massachusetts and Romeo is moving to Hollywood to go try his luck and they’re not having problems. If your own brother can do the long-distance thing, why can’t you?

I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either. I know doing a long-distance thing won’t be easy, but when was the last time either of us gave up just because it was hard? Jackie, if I wanted something easy, I would have bailed after we almost lost Blink. My love for you aside, I didn’t because that’s. not. me. I fight for what I love. And I know you do, too, so... so fight for me. I need to know you love me enough to fight for me, Jackie.

I know you. When you want something—really want it, there is not a force in this world that can stop you from fighting for it. I love you, Jack Kelly. I’m not going to stop fighting for you, so please don’t stop fighting for me.

Love, Davey

Jack choked on a sob. He’d failed. Davey had asked him to fight for him and he failed.

Sure, he hadn’t known that Davey wanted him to fight for him, but... God, if he had...

Jack would have fought, would have walked through hell, would have done anything to keep Davey by his side.

He still loved Davey, no matter what he’d been telling himself since the breakup, and... And he needed to read the rest of these letters. Even if Davey started hating him when the fighting got really bad or wrote about what he was feeling during it.

Shit. There weren’t that many more. The remaining letters were spread out somewhere between high school graduation and when Jack and Davey broke up; a year and a half ago, and... and those would probably be the hardest ones to read

Jack waited a bit until the tears had stopped before opening the one from November 20th, 2016.

Dear Jack,

I haven’t wrote one of these in a while. College has been a bitch, but also...

You and me barely talk anymore. We text each other memes about once a week, (don’t worry. you still know exactly how to make me laugh with those dumb little shitposts.) but we don’t really talk. I can’t remember the last time we FaceTimed. I miss you, but I don’t know how to say it anymore.

I’m thinking about this because it’s Thanksgiving break. Of course, it’s good to see everyone. Kath got home this morning. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her. Elmer texted me a couple minutes ago that he’s an hour away. Of course that dumbass is driving all the way from Michigan. I’m sure we’ll both have more than enough words for him when you get back because you’re flying in tonight.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I should be excited, but... I don’t think I’ve been this nervous about anything involving you since I ran away after our first kiss. I think I preferred it last year, when we were fighting, because even when we were pissed at each other, at least we were communicating.

You remember when we were kids and you always knew exactly what to say exactly when someone needed to hear it? How you helped calm down Kath when she got kicked out, talked Jojo off a roof, and convinced Spot to tell Race he loved him? It was amazing. I never quite mastered that. I usually know what to do, just never how to voice it. But this time, I don’t even know what to do. We’re not on the same page anymore. I don’t think we’re even in the same book.

Jack took a shaky breath. He and Davey hadn’t been on the same page. And Jack definitely hadn’t known what to say to him, either. They weren’t the unstoppable duo they’d been in high school.

But... damn. Those things Davey had mentioned him doing? He couldn’t have done those alone. For all of those, he had needed Davey there, helping him. Maybe that was why it was so hard, being there for anyone since the breakup.

I hate how five years of being an unstoppable duo can be undone in only four months, and it wasn’t even by fighting. If it was a fight, we could solve it, you and me vs. the problem. But there’s no fight, no problem. It’s just you and me and the growing chasm between us.

You know what? It’s probably just the distance messing with us. We’ll be fine. We just need some time together. Thanksgiving will be good for us. And I’m flying out to Santa Fe for the winter holidays to spend it with you, so that’ll be good, too.

I’m gonna text you right now. Your flight probably won’t be leaving for another hour or so, so we can talk. Get back in rhythm.

I still don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll just ask about how hot Santa Fe is in winter and we can go from there. Here’s hoping this makes things get less awkward.

Love, Davey

Jack remembered that text conversation with Davey in the airport. He remembered how much hope it had given him, and how after Jack went back to Santa Fe when the holiday was over, how much better Davey and him had been. That Christmas/Hanukkah had been great, especially considering most of Jack’s classmates were at home and they’d had the dorm to themselves.

Of course their friends and families had known that was why Jack didn’t come home that year, and he distinctly remembered getting texts from all three of his brothers on Christmas morning asking if Davey was good in bed, but that was besides the point.

The next several letters were from their second wind, the rest of the school year. And yeah, they were hard to read, but they brought back happy memories. Even only seeing each other over breaks and computer screens, it seemed that Davey was happy, too. For a while, it had seemed that Jack could have his dreams of art school in Santa Fe and the love of his life.

Then, of course, during that summer of staying together at whichever house more often than not, they started fighting again. Over nothing. Over stupid things. Over who loaded the dishwasher wrong and who said he was going to pick Les up from his friend’s house.

Then they started fighting over big things. Over harsh words Jack never meant and judging by these letters, Davey didn’t meant, either.

August 2nd, 2017:

Dear Jack,

I fucked up. We just had a big fight, I said a bunch of things I didn’t mean, and like an idiot, I let you leave for the airport without apologizing. Now, you’re acting like your phone is already on airplane mode even though I know for a fact your flight doesn’t leave for another hour. Also, I can see that you’ve read all of my texts, you moron, so I know you’re just ignoring me.

Aw, hell, I don’t even blame you. I said some really bad things. I said you love your art more than me, and I know that’s not true. I know you’d never prioritize material things over the people you love, because Jackie, you prioritize those people who have earned your loyalty over everything, including your own mental and physical health. I know because it annoys the hell out of me, how you never give yourself a break. They’re all adults now, Jackie. They don’t need us as much anymore and you never stop acting like they do.

I shouldn’t be angry with you for that. I know with your childhood, trying to protect Crutchie, Race, and Romeo and sometimes failing, you still feel like you have to save everyone. It’s how you’re wired and I love that about you. I wouldn’t change it if I could. I just wish you’d stop running yourself into the ground to do it.

Is this it? I already feel like we’re on borrowed time, here. Sarah says she thought we were going to break up last year. Kath says she’s sure it’s not that bad. (they’re talking about it very loudly in the hallway. or maybe they’re arguing. who knows?) Les just said that my mom said nobody marries their high school sweetheart. (thanks, Mom.)

I think even if we never said it, that’s what we were both hoping for. I know you, Jackie. I’ve watched your favorite romcoms and Disney movies. I know you want the perfect fairytale relationship with the whole package of ‘and they get married and have kids and live happily ever after.’ And I want that, too. I really wanted it with you. Ugh! I still want it with you! I can’t imagine any alternate universe where I don’t want that with you!

It’s probably inappropriate to think about all that. We’re nineteen. We’re not even old enough to drink yet and we’re definitely too young for me to be thinking about marrying you.

Jack inhaled sharply. Oh, God. He was going to cry again.

But for the record... I do want to. I want everything with you and I cannot imagine any circumstance, any extreme, any bad breakup where I stop wanting that.

Just to be safe, though, in case something I can’t foresee happens and I never say it again...

I love you, Jack Kelly. I have loved you from the first day I met you and I can’t see anything happening in any version of reality that makes me stop loving you. You’re still like the living personification of the moon to me and no matter how much you piss me off, Jackie, your glow doesn’t fade. You shined a light on the parts of me afraid of judgement and taught me to shine, too, despite them.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I probably never will. I just need you to know that.

Love, Davey

Jack was already crying, but he panicked as he realized there was only two more letters.

A part of him wanted to wait. These were words Davey hadn’t spoken to him. These were the last pieces of Davey that were still Jack’s.

But he needed to know. Were these letters from before they actually broke up? After? Had Davey been wrong in the previous letter and he’d stoped loving Jack?

There were no dates on the envelopes. Still, Jack had to know. He took a deep breath and opened the second-to-last one, the paper covered in old, dried tear marks.

Dear Jack,

We had another stupid fight and we tried to fix it but that just ended in more yelling. That’s happened a few times before, now, but this time, it was different.

Oh, no. This must be from the big one Spring Break of their sophomore year of college.

Jack had come home for the break, it had been great to see his friends, but then he and Davey had started fighting. Like, really fighting. Worse than they ever had before.

And then there was the big one. It was two days before Jack flew back to Santa Fe. It was the one where they actually broke up.

This time, you told me to leave. And I kind of yelled at you to just go back to Santa Fe as you shoved me out the door. Then you yelled that if I wanted you to fly away so badly, I shouldn’t bother visiting again and you slammed the door in my face.

I think we just broke up. I’d be angry about it if I wasn’t so damn sad.

God, this is messed up. I know you’re alone on your bed with those stupid Star Wars sheets you’ve had since you were twelve and you locked the door because you don’t want anyone to see you cry. Thinking about that makes me want to run right back there and say I’m sorry.

I wanted to do that the second I got back to my parents’ house, but they convinced me not to. Sarah yelled at them for it. She said I had to make my own decision. They said I’m too emotional to think clearly. They’re right, of course, which is why I’m here writing this and not on my way back to your mom’s house already.

Now, Les is the only one outside my door. Are Crutchie, Race, Romeo, or Kath outside yours? Les is trying to guilt me into opening the door by telling me he cancelled a date for me. I’m not weirded out at all by the fact that my baby brother has way more game than I did when I was fourteen.

Are we really done, Jackie? For good? I keep waiting to hear you out in the hallway. And probably Kath, because she’s a better driver than you. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’m just gonna to go to sleep.

Davey

Jack wiped his eyes furiously. There was one more letter and he needed to read it, consequences be damned.

This last letter was probably from when Davey cooled down. Maybe the next morning or something. If he didn’t hate Jack while he was emotional and raw from the initial breakup, he might in this letter. But Jack opened it, anyway.

My Dearest Jack,

We really are broken up. You haven’t called me, but I got a very angry text-rant from Crutchie (for which he apologized 10 minutes later) which basically boiled down to him saying I broke your heart. Romeo called me, said ‘dude, not cool,’ then hung up. Race and Medda seem to be trying to see both sides, and though Kath did tell me that the last few months have been like ‘listening to mom and dad fight downstairs,’ she’s not offering any advice. I think she and Sarah are waiting for me to come to them.

I’m so sorry, Jackie. I know this is mostly my fault. Still, I can’t make the first move. Don’t forget: I know you. You’re more concerned with other people’s feelings than yours, so if I ask you to take me back and you do it, I can’t be sure you didn’t just do it for me. If we ever get back together, it has to be because you want it, too. However, I know you won’t even consider we could get back together unless I give you a sign, which is why I’m leaving you my letters.

You went back to Santa Fe two weeks ago and I’m finally stable enough to come get my stuff from your house and drop off what little you left in my room. While I’m there, I’m gonna hide this somewhere. I guess we’ll both have to pray no one else in your family finds it. That would be awkward.

When you find this, I want you to think long and hard about what you want, Jackie. I want you to make a decision for you. Goddammit, think about yourself first for once.

If you fight for me, I want you to do it because it’s what you really want. That fairytale romcom ending with me is still yours if you play your cards right. (Don’t think I forgot all the hurtful things you said to me, even if I’m 70% sure you didn’t mean them.) It might take... I dunno, therapy or something, but I still think we can fix this. It won’t be easy, but neither is love. Neither is our entire messed-up, broken group of friends.

I used to think I’d lose all of them if I lost you. Maybe I would have, if I’d messed up like this in 8th grade. But now, I know I won’t, because they’re all blowing up my phone as much as I’m sure they’re blowing up yours, asking if I’m okay. I see now that they need me as much as I need them. And they still need you, too, even if you do need to accept a little more that we’re all grown-ups now.

Where was I going with this? I had a point.

I guess all there’s left to say is that if you still want that perfect ending with me—getting married and having kids and having them call all our friends ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’—fight for it. Loving someone the way I’m in love with you doesn’t happen twice, so I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.

You probably won’t find this for a while. Hell, you’re not even coming home again until summer break. But that’s probably a good thing. It gives us both some time to cool off and think.

So think, Jackie. Think long and hard and make a choice. Fight for me or don’t. In case I never get a chance to say it in person again...

I love you, Jack Kelly.

Love, Davey

Oh shit.

Davey left this in Jack’s closet a year and a half ago. He’d probably expected Jack to find it that summer. In fact, he probably thought Jack had found it and just decided not to fight for him.

Jack still wanted to fight for him. He had no doubts about that.

But did his have to discover this box now? When he was leaving for Santa Fe to finish his senior year tomorrow?

Fuck it. Even if it had been almost two years, even if there was a high chance Davey wasn’t waiting for him anymore, he still had to do this

Driving to the Jacobs house right then and there was probably the stupidest thing Jack had ever done, and that was including riding that Walmart shopping cart Albert stole down a hill in 8th grade with Race, Romeo, and Albert when Davey, Kath, and Specs weren’t there to stop them.

Sarah was the one who opened the door, and she... Jack hadn’t talked to Saz since the breakup, since she’d been staying mad at him out of solidarity. Honestly, he was now realizing that he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Davey. They’d been good friends, once upon a time.

Now, she glared at him, “The fuck are you doing here, Kelly?”

“I...” Jack honestly couldn’t think of a good way to explain this, “Is he home?”

Sarah snorted, “What? After a year and a half, you’ve finally come to your senses and realized you’ll never find another one like my brother?”

“I never planned on anyone like him in the first place,” Jack snapped, “Davey was always... even back in middle school... You think I’d ever believe I could find someone else like that? I’m dumb, Saz, but I ain’t stupid. I always knew I was givin’ up on forever when I didn’t try to get him back, but... but I thought he didn’t want me anymore.”

Sarah froze, then leaned against the doorframe, laughing kind of hopelessly, “You are stupid, Jack Kelly, if you think my brother wasn’t totally gone for you and totally broken-hearted when you didn’t try to fight for him.”

Jack definitely had an oh shit moment, “Wait, do you know? About the..?”

“The box of letters he left you? Yeah. He told me last year, after you left for junior year without coming for him.”

Jack took the last letter out of his pocket, “I just found it.”

Saz took a second to process that before motioning for Jack to come in, shouting up the stairs, “Davey! Get your butt down here!”

Les, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from his sandwich, “Holy shit. Jack?”

“Hi, kid,” Jack said, trying not to be weirded out by how the now-16-year-old was taller than him.

“Davey?” Sarah yelled again, clearly impatient.

“Alright, alright! God, Saz, what couldn’t wait 10 se—“ That was when Davey looked up, seeing Jack in his kitchen.

“That couldn’t wait,” Sarah said pointedly, “Les, let’s go... not be here.”

“If I eat in my room, Mom’ll kill me,” Les said, picking up his sandwich, anyway.

“Eat in my room, then.”

Jack and Davey were silent until the other two Jacobs siblings were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

Jack had to take a deep breath before he responded, “When was the last time you went somewhere besides school if somebody didn’t drag you out of the house?”

“What?”

“Do the people who love you say you’ve changed? Do they keep saying they need a designated driver only to try to get you drinking and dancing like it’ll make you smile?”

“What are you—“

“Are there songs you can’t listen to? Movies you can’t watch? Have you so much as called someone back when they gave you their number?”

“Jack,” Davey looked at the ceiling, “What’s this about?”

“You once said you wouldn’t put your life on hold for me,” Jack said, “And you were right not to. I can be overprotective, sometimes. No one should put their dreams on hold because of a lover, but... my dreams are the only thing I haven’t put on hold, Dave. I ain’t been living since I lost you. Not really. And when our friends all said I was smilin’ less, I never let myself think about it, because if I did, I’d have to think about how much I was still hurtin’ over you.”

Davey laughed sady, “Jack, if you really wanted me, you would have fought for me a long time ago, so—“

“You’re talkin’ about the letters?” Jack asked, holding up the one he had on him, “Davey... I just found them. Today.”

Davey was silent, his face completely unreadable. Jack was holding his breath.

“Jack Kelly,” he finally smiled, “I should have known you would take this long to clean out your damn closet.”

“I think you spent enough time in the closet for the both of us.” Jack joked.

Davey rolled his eyes, “Very funny, Jackie. Anyway... I don’t think it’s any secret that we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“Of course not.”

“So... coffee? If we’re trying again, I’d prefer to take things slow.”

Jack nodded, “Probably a good thing I’m going back to Santa Fe after tomorrow. That ain’t enough time for us to do something we’ll regret.”

“Yeah, I guess mostly just texting is one way to take it slow... speaking of which, one of us should probably text the group chat.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack grinned, “They’re gonna freak.”

#newsies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack and davey are the mom and dad friends #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #background newsbians #background blush #background spromeo #background belmerttons #slight angst #violet’s writing

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woah-were-halfway-there · 4 years

Note

How would y/n react to finding out about Auston’s dog while still stuck in Toronto during the quarantine series

A/N: the quarantine series™️ I’m YELLING lmao welp here are the other two parts if anyone feels like reading them but here we go. (this was kind of rushed pls bear with me)

Word Count: 1.3k

It wasn't even two full weeks into May, on a random Tuesday night (you thought, the days just seemed blended together by that point) as you were sitting on the couch in yours and Auston's condo reading a book, that you got a random yet somewhat concerning text from Freddie.

All he asked was if you had talked to Auston lately. After explaining that you had FaceTimed your boyfriend earlier that day but hadn't really spoken since you just shrugged to yourself because you hadn't thought that much about it. But then Fred replied, saying you should probably call him, and you started getting anxious.

Did something happen? Was everyone ok? You weren't sure, but you wasted no time in bringing up Auston's contact in your phone and pressing the call button.

After three rings, his voice eventually sounded from the other end.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey," you replied and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" He asked, making you feel even more confused than before.

"Well, Freddie just messaged me saying I should call you, and I got worried, so I-," you cut yourself off and let out a breath, feeling a little pathetic about getting stressed so easily when clearly it was nothing. "Nevermind, uh, how was your day?"

He didn't respond. Instead, what sounded like a sarcastic laugh of sorts left his mouth, and you just didn't know how to react. "He was trying to rat me out."

"What?"

"Freddie," Auston called out, obviously trying to get the goalie to come to the same room he was in.

"Aus, what is going on?"

"Fred!"

You didn't know what to do. Something was happening, and you had no doubts that Auston was going to tell you eventually, but damn did it suck being in the dark.

Eventually, Freddie's voice sounded, and you hated that you couldn't see your boyfriend to at least try to read his body language while talking to his friend. You listened to the two banter about how Fred tattled, while Auston insisted that he was going to tell you.

"Tell me what Auston?" You finally intervened, getting really fed up with the whole situation. "I just want to know what the hell is going on. You're stressing me out."

"I-," he started before sighing. "I'm sorry. Give me a second and I'll FaceTime you."

"Please…"

Before anything else could be said, your phone started buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. You quickly pressed the answer button and were soon met by your boyfriend's smiling face.

"Hi," he greeted cheekily, and you just knew that he was up to something.

"Hi. Are you good to tell me now?"

You watched as he bit down on his bottom lip nervously and glanced to the side, assumingly at Freddie, before looking back at you and nodding.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to show you."

A small pout formed on your lips, but still, you waited patiently as he leaned his phone against something on the counter, and you were suddenly able to see the kitchen much better. He then exited the frame, and you took a second to look at the scenery outside the large windows you were facing. The sun was setting, and it looked stunning. A small sigh left your mouth as you thought about Auston telling you how warm it had been in Scottsdale as of late, while you were stuck in rainy, cold Toronto. There was one sunny day in the city that gave you hope for beautiful weather, but then it was snowing just a week later.

You hated it. But, you still trudged your way through it.

Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts, you heard Auston's voice from offscreen as he talked to someone and started whistling. Still confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and waited until you could finally see your boyfriend again as he stopped in front of the phone.

"Ready?" He asked and looked at you pointedly.

You nodded, and he let out a breath before bending down to pick something up. A moment later, he stood up straight again; but this time holding a black and white, extremely fluffy looking puppy.

"Oh my gosh," you gasped as you covered your mouth and took in just how cute this dog was. "Look at him!"

"This is Felix," he stated while rubbing between the dog's ears and smiling widely towards you.

"Hi Felix," you replied happily before looking back at Auston. "Oh wow, I can already tell he's one of the best boys. Who does he belong to?"

"Well, us," he told you sheepishly, and fell silent as he waited for a response from you. "I picked him up a couple of hours ago."

However, you were too shocked to answer, and it took you a minute to speak up again. "Wait. What?"

"Surprise!"

"Auston."

"I was going to tell you," he started. "You know how badly I've wanted to get a dog. We've talked about this."

"I know," you replied. "But I wasn't expecting you to get one during quarantine while we're in separate countries."

"The opportunity came up, and I just wasn't able to say no to this little guy," he told you before looking back down at the puppy. "That's your new mom, bud. You'll get to see her in person soon, hopefully."

You wanted to be mad, you really did, but you just couldn't be. Auston was a grown man and was more than capable of making decisions like getting a dog on his own, and the two of you had already agreed to get a pet someday soon as well, so there was no reason to be. Plus, Felix was freaking adorable.

"I'm sorry. Are you mad I picked him without you?" Auston's voice snapped you out of the little daze you'd fallen into as he set Felix back down.

"No, of course not," you replied with a tiny grin. "You did good, babe."

He smiled widely at that response.

"He's the breed we talked about getting. I went and saw him a week ago, and we just clicked, or else I would've waited. He's helped a lot with the boredom, though."

"I'm glad," you told him honestly and just couldn't stop smiling. "Auston, I love him already and can't wait to meet him once the border opens."

"I can't wait for you to meet him either," he stated. "Or for us to be in the same place."

"I know, soon."

"Soon," he repeated and let out a breath as he picked the phone back up and started walking out of the kitchen. "Well, we're about to eat dinner. Can I call you back after? Want to hear about your day."

"I'd love that," you said and started feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. "But now that I know about Felix, I expect all the pictures and videos."

"See, told you she wouldn't be mad," a voice spoke up from offscreen. You knew it was Freddie, and couldn't help but laugh as you watched Auston roll his eyes at his friend.

"Whatever," your boyfriend scoffed. "I was going to tell her eventually."

"Yeah, when you weren't being a chicken shit and could finally man up."

"Or when I got pictures from Alex or Bre because we all know they wouldn't be able to keep it from me," you spoke up, making both men chuckle.

"True," Auston said and shook his head. "Anyways, I'm going to go. I love you, and I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Sounds good. I love you too and go pet Felix for me."

"Oh, you know I will," he replied and winked at you before ending the call. After that, you scrambled to text Steph so you could plan an outing with Felix and Zeus once quarantine was over, and then Auston's sister's to gush over the new edition to the family.

Although it sucked still being separated from Auston and your loved ones, you then had another thing to look forward to for once the lockdown was all said and done. It made you feel hopeful and helped you remember how there could still be light during those dark times, especially in the form of a new four-legged friend who you simply could not wait to meet.

I have some requests to write a piece of them finally being able to quarentine together, maybe I’ll work on that next hmmm

#nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #auston matthews #nhl imagine #auston matthews fanfiction #nhl writing #auston matthews imagine #hockey imagines #nhl headcanon #auston matthews imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #toronto maple leafs imagine #hockey imagine

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cosmosrival · 4 years

Text

there it is! kama interlude analysis by a kama fan!

WELL. LIKE IT SAYS IN THE TITLE: this is just my own thoughts!! youre free to think whatever u want !! i am just putting my own knowledge into words because i genuinely love kama, and i would like for kama’s depth to be understood by the NA fandom a little more!! i try to stay as close as possible to their character in everything i do because i believe that the more in character they are, the funnier/more interesting content ppl will produce.

and hopefully i understood them well ???!!!! HOPEFULLY ?!

i will be screenshotting the translated reddit post under this read more and stop whenever something i find interesting to develop pops up ! or else it’ll get way too long lol if you wanna read the interlude for yourself heres the link!

with that said, let’s go!!

kama’s interlude begins with guda passing the hell out because of exhaustion and then waking up in a dream sequence where kama treats them to some relaxing adventures, stuff to take their mind off heavy things!! first dream sequence is kama roleplaying a highschool setting where they’re dating.

i like this because they openly admit that its an illusion, breaking the immersion but as long as youre okay with roleplaying, they’ll continue it LOL at some point, caesar mentions the student council president and arjuna appears behind him

since this is an illusion that kama made, i’ve been wondering about the fact that the way servants conduct eachother in this interlude is mostly because that’s how kama envisions they would act in a highschool setting, in an amusement park and finally with eachother (mostly for confirmed couples such as siegbryn, consort yu and her hubby etc...). suzuka and sei being gyarus is obvious, but arjuna as the student council president... is so cute???!!! i MEAN IT FITS ?! THATS A GREAT IDEA KAMA!!!! ANYWAY

this is kama’s first monologue and since they’re primarily the god of lust, all of the more vanilla stuff they mentions such as sharing a pair of headphones embarrasses them since its so tame. ITS CUTE !!! kama expects you to be horny in class !! what are you doing thinking about hand holding !!! medusa saves u from that tho with a direct reference to her relationship with kama’s vessel

this is interesting !! and reassuring !!! i think that kama as a character has a lot of depth and just reducing them to “sakura” would be a waste and this interlude shows how different they are from her. but they’re also similar! sakura went through a lot just like medusa says and kama does have trauma related to shiva. its not the same circumstances but the same kind of suffering which explains the nuance here. and what i like about chaldea is that there’s been multiple instances where its been proven that servants can grow thanks to their relationships with guda (most common example: leveling up your bonds) BUT ALSO, saint graph evolution (alts). and as a kama fan i’d like to see them happy someday and this interlude as a whole is proof of their healing/coping because of the time they spent in chaldea and how they interact with others. more on that later ! here, they don’t recognize medusa which is normal since they’re not sakura (someone else entierly), but...

they care about her ! because of sakura’s influence being a part of the servant called Kama(assassin). the difference here is important !! but i’ll come back on this in a bit. quick mention to the greek cupid <3 kamadusa nation we were fed (i clap by myself because im the only one who has 57575757557 kama rarepairs-----)

kama is a delinquent whos horny in class but still takes a few notes, enough to do well on their tests! and thats tea<3 smart horny lazyass !! theyre a gift

SO ARJUNA WAS OUT FOR BLOOD ????? ANYWAY, this is right after the actual fight against weirdo terrorists, and im happy to know that kama DOES enjoy a good fight (as proven in their voicelines as well) but theyre not a farming unit because it’d be too much work (single target NP..)...!!!!!!! lavish god of love....

FINALLYYYYYYYYYYY THE REAL DEAL !!!!!!!!!!!! “it feels wonderful to be your girlfriend” christ, kamadeva was so used to being a husband and a good lover, it reflected in their servant version.... but ree what do u mean by servant version???

I MEAN THE OBVIOUS !! kama explains it very well in the screenie just above !

“You know very well how servants work.”

KAMA ASSASSIN (the servant in your chaldea) is neither KAMADEVA or SAKURA MATOU or MARA. they’re a MIX OF PARTS OF THE THREE. creating an entierly new person(in this case, servant) !!!! it might sound like i’m repeating myself, but this is important!!!!!!!!! i will say this multiple times so people remember it !!! and if u already had this figured out: GOOD JOB I LOVE U !!!

Kamadeva (the god) has many stories, ones where he was born from concepts (dharma and shraddha), one where his parents are brahma and sarasvati, one where his parents are vishnu and lakshmi, stories about his reincarnation after his death where his parents are krishna and rukmini, his love with Rati and so on. We all know Sakura’s backstory since this is nasuverse. And Mara is a demon, an entity that tried to corrupt Buddha and prevent him from reaching enlightenment/stray from the path. Kama assassin has parts from all of these entities which explains why they have a vague longing for Rati, why they have a soft spot for Medusa and why they have an affinity with Kiara(and also like talking about corrupting u !).

they then mention how a japanese highschool setting is fun and all i have to say is: i’m gonna make an indo fam delinquent vs student council au out of this one folks !!!!!!!! i gotta !!!

OK next

TIME FOR THE SECOND DREAM SEQUENCE WHICH I WAS VERY VERY VERRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYY AFRAID OF BEFORE THE TRANSLATION CAME OUT.

THE PART WHERE KAMA ACTS LIKE YOUR CHILD.

well with their stage 1 it was expected but without the translation i have to say that i was scared shitless! because people hate thinking! and even if kama clearly tells you that it’s a charade, u know a JOKE. A DREAM SEQUENCE. DONT BE A CREEP. KAMA INTENDED FOR IT TO BE WHOLESOME. i know some ppl wont use their brains. but u know its fgo and degenerates are everywhere.

anyways. family bonding time ensues until another monologue appears!!

exactly like before, kama mentions myths that belonged to kamadeva. Meaning that the Kama in our chaldea isn’t the Kamadeva we know and is not Pradyumna either but the fact that the writers chose to have kama acknowledge it is very reassuring !!! Because it means that they’ve chosen to make it a part of their (complicated) history. Kama says that Pradyumna is the myth about themself they know the least, once again proving us that the Kama in our Chaldea (Assassin) is a different entity and that they were summoned to the throne upon their death, the moment they were burned by Shiva’s flames and became Ananga, in any case they’re still familiar with all of their own myths. it allows us to keep heroic spirits separate from their original myths. Obviously! And in the case of pseudo-servants, it allows us to keep them separate from their vessels. Cuz this is a fanservice japanese game. Andddd the fandom likes forgetting this fact quite a lot i’ve noticed. As a person who loves thinking about tons and tons of headcanons for fun, this allows us a lot of space ! Because this is fate/grand order at its base. Nasuverse.

I’m glad that the interlude explains it so clearly, it’s very good !! Because the majority of myths from every culture are confusing, family trees are confusing, names are confusing, powers and attributes are confusing... its a mess !!!! the fgo characters we know are just cut from their own respective timelines/historial figures so the writers can organize themselves more easily. Like cutting halves from a big cake. Kama (Assassin) is the Kama that died from Shiva’s flames and became the universe ONLY. In Nasuverse, Arthur Pendragon is a woman. Anastasia Romanov NEVER had a demon familiar named Viy in real life despite the creature being part of russian folklore. u know ! im russian i can testify dude !!

hopefully everyone got this bc i wont be explaining this any further dude, its exhausting !!!!!! bangs my hands on the table !!!!!

ANYWAYS kama mentions “eternal pain that turns [them] into ash” being their key element. Their trauma is at the center of their heroic spirit self, what they are as a servant. This suffering is tied to everything they do, why they’re so lazy, why they’re so lax, why they’re so detached from their job. But they’re not detached from their role. And “job” and “role” have different connotations here. They refuse to work as a cupid because of obvious reasons. BUT. They’re not detached from their role as the God of Love, as the God of Passion. The embodiment of those feelings. This whole interlude is proof ! They’re giving u free therapy because they Love you. Passion. They feel your love. Passion. They acknowledge how much fun you’re having. How passionate you are about certain things. They might seem extremely detached and hateful, but they aren’t. They’re one of the most empathetic servants there is. And their ability to love everything, even the things they hate is what makes them so miserable. Because it’s a part of them. Because the concept of Kama in hinduism is linked to them. Be it lust or simply the passion born from anything you do where you’re enjoying yourself. (quote: “ the term also refers to any sensory enjoyment, emotional attraction and aesthetic pleasure such as from arts, dance, music, painting, sculpture and nature “. R. Prasad (2008), History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilization )

... I’d like to say that this contrast with Mara is interesting. And that i’m glad the writers chose to add in Mara to the kama assassin Beast mix.

Because the anger Mara feels can become a drivepoint for Kama. I’ve always believed that anger and sadness are two sides of the same coin, it’d explain how layered Kama is and how valid their emotions are. Constantly torn between love and hate. An eternal grudge (i don’t deserve to be hurt like this) and an eternal misery(maybe i do deserve to be hurt like this).

i wish they were my roommate <3 oh fuck ree got emotional wait where were we.

OH YEAH

i think kama saying that they dislike being involved with other indian servants because theyre linked to shiva is a feeble attempt at trying to keep up a strong front because they still love them in the end. cuz that’s how kama is ! after a while they’ll get bored of bullying ganesha and ashwatthama. they’ll get interested in rama because their respective mythos are linked even if their servant selves have no connection. hell, at the end of the interlude they talk about parvati and how they themself changed and realized things. BUT OH WELL, THATS STUFF FOR ANOTHER POST HEHE thats just ree wanting kama to b happy yall move along !!

.....THIS ISNT A COLLEGE STUDENTS ROLEPLAY BUT ITS A CUTE JAPANESE COMPANY BOSS/UNDERLING SETTING AND ITS CUTE SO I THINK KAMA WEARING A PENCIL SKIRT AND POURING U ALCOHOL IS CUTE. CUTE.

further proof of kama’s overflowing affection and what i detailed above!! hopefully u all knew this one simply from reading this interlude/their profile page and dont need me to write it down for u. HOPEFULLY !!!!!

(I START BEATBOXING VERY RAPIDLY AND RUNNING TOWARDS YOU) KAMA IS A SADIST AT THEIR CORE AND I WILL NEVER STOP !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they’re easy to fluster because theyre not used to being so vanilla, but whats underneath is how they truly are !! a beast turned servant, the sweetest sadist !! theyre very mature and this interlude is so well written (wipes my teears

this is directly linked to what i explained above, by burning you away, you’ll melt into nothingness just like they did. When they were the universe, they felt both everything and nothing.

But was it really relief ... ?

... IT WASNT.

AND PARVATI SAVES THE DAY !!!!!!! phew!! thank u paru, it’d still like to be able to touch kama’s huge titties and i cant do that if i turn into ashes (falls down the stairs

ok she summoned lovey dovey canon couples to annoy kama since they’re exhausted of seein them!!

...............(I TAKE OUT A KNIFE) TAKE THAT BACK. DONT TALK TO THEM LIKE THAT. TAKE THAT BACK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ohhhhhh im obsessed i love when theyre angry<3 i love when theyre fighty <3 i think they should beat the living shit out of a boxing bag DAILY to let out some of this steam. they’d be a monster on the ring... aaa kama in training boot y shorts aa a .. .uughg hg ouu... (you all shove me into a locker)

ok this is interesting !! i think that the interlude showing us that parvati feels a semblance of guilt is character dev. proof for what i mentioned before!! in ookuu parvati felt quite ..unsympathetic to me, even if kama is a beast who wants to annihilate humanity, when u think about it, at their core their grudge is because of her and shiva’s betrayal. and here, she properly apologizes for making kama so upset. this is heartwarming to me since i dislike thinking that members of the indo fam hate eachother :( same goes for arjuna and karna, at some point i’d like for them to act like bros normally and finally be comfy. but anyways !!

u wake up from the dreams and da vinci, mashu and paru are here to tell u whats going on. But its fine bc u remember everything and u have to go thank someone for helping u out!!!

CUTE !!!!!!! THEY CARE ABOUT U !!!!!! but whether it be because of their role or because theres a deeper meaning is entierly up to your own interpretation because...

of what they say here.

and here !!

ohhhhhhhhh this is so important !!!!!!

this is actual proof of kama’s growth as a servant and how servants evolve in chaldea !! chaldea is not the same as a grail war, its a special, cut-off place and thats what makes it even more relaxing to think about. Everytime u summon a servant in ur chaldea u give them a chance to have fun with you, to have fun with other servants, to make amends, to start from scratch, to discover things they would’ve never known in their time (movies, video games, tons of different foods etc...), u give them a chance to relax. to grow !! this is the headcanon that im most attached to and im glad to see it be confirmed in the interlude of a character i love tbqh i had to stop and talk about that.

everyone say thank u kama !! can we roleplay a college roommate coffee shop slowburn au next time <3

ANYWAYS if you’ve read it this far: thank you !!! im sorry if you expected something very serious, im not that type of person hehe im jus here to have fun and look at things i like, and the interlude itself was quite lighthearted and refreshing. By talking about the myths and all of kamadeva’s stories, the writers basically gave lore nerds a huge thumbs up like... “its ok now !! u can go ape now !! go be insane<3 love u<3″ and all of this kama characterization GENUINELY makes me so happy because i think they really needed that. kama assassin... (i blow a kiss to the sky) is a little mess of a servant... a god, human crumbs and a demon... a total mess... im in love with them...

..............tho now the wait for a summer alt where they interact with the entire indo fam begins (im sitting in a chair unmoving)(i have a gun in case minase begins acting gross

#ree's fgo hcs #kama #WONT TAG THIS ONE AS A WHOLE BC IM... A LIL SHY TO BE HONEST #its just a kama fan rambling bro....... jus a kama fan liking the interlude man.....#like i said at the beginning of the post its just my thoughts<3

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comradekatara · 4 years

Note

Do you have any modern Zukka headcannons? Thanks for your hot awesome takes all the time

i’ve gone over some of these points before, so some of y’all may recognize the continuity of the atlahsaucu (atla highschool au cinematic universe). this is a long one, and it’s *gasps* chronological…

they first meet in junior year art class. sokka resents how well zuko can draw and paint seemingly without any effort whatsoever, meanwhile sokka tries really hard and all his art comes out like disgusting little blobs on the canvas. zuko resents sokka for being cool and hot. how dare he.

one day, they get a bit carried away, and sokka and suki start making out in the middle of the hallway. zuko, whose locker they are directly on top of and who has class at this very moment, is not amused, and he, politely as he can, coughs and request that they move out of the way. sokka merely holds up a finger as to say “one moment please” which enrages zuko (justly, tbh) and he yells, “what the fuck?!”

sokka’s like “man what’s your fucking problem why are you such an asshole and so good at art” and zuko’s just like “????” and “what in gods name are you talking about????” and the yelling causes a scene which lands them in detention. sokka has never gotten detention before (though he has gotten several warnings in the past, but it’s kinda hard to be mad at the guy whose girlfriend just died for being distracted in class) and he’s freaking out that this is gonna go on his record and he’ll never get into stanford or mit or princeton or– meanwhile zuko is just asleep at his desk.

once zuko wakes up, sokka, bored out of his mind, jokingly proposes that they sneak out through the vents and make a break for it, but zuko, either not understanding that sokka is joking or not caring that sokka is joking (it’s unclear which) is like “yeah we’d just have to be quiet.” sokka, who has now decided that zuko is batshit crazy, but has also decided that he is living on the wild side, a real bad boy rebel who’ll never make ivy league because he got detention that one time, is like “yeah okay” just because he spent a lot of time entertaining this hypothetical and now he’s deathly curious to see if it’ll work.

amazingly enough, it does. adrenaline carries them outside the building and into freedom as they run as far as their legs will carry them until sokka stops to panic that he is now a certified delinquent, and delinquents don’t get scholarships, and if he doesn’t go to a good school then he’ll never get a good job, and if he doesn’t get a good job then how is he gonna support gran gran?????? and zuko’s just like “wait, hold up.”

zuko admits that he fully thought sokka was some type of meathead jock who makes out with his girlfriend in the hallways and thinks he’s too cool for school and sokka’s like “she’s not my girlfriend and also what.” zuko is confused as to why he would make out with someone in the hallway if she wasn’t even his girlfriend. he also realizes that he doesn’t actually know his name. so sokka explains that yeah they’re in love and spend every waking moment together but no she’s not his girlfriend; he doesn’t do relationships and neither does she. and also he introduces himself.

and it takes zuko a moment because he’s really bad with names and faces and putting faces to names and, people, in general, but then he’s like “oh my god you’re that sokka.” and sokka’s just like “yeah i’m pretty sure my name’s not that common???” but zuko is just like “i think my sister is planning to murder you someday.” and sokka just slaps his forehead. of course art class asshole is related to debate class asshole.

only zuko’s not really an asshole he’s kinda just a weirdo. a quiet little freak who paints good. sokka can vibe with that. especially after zuko assures him that none of this will go on any sort of record whatsoever because bumi is old, and batshit, and senile, and clearly doesn’t give a fuck. sokka laughs, and this leads into them talking shit about everyone they both hate, which they realize are all the same people, somehow. seeing their own petty bitterness mirrored back at them, they realize that they’re kind of both snobs, but in a fun way.

they walk through town until it gets dark out, and then they go their separate ways. but next monday they sit together in art class, and their teacher yells at them to stop whispering. sokka is just drawing little triangles across the page because he’s just come from trig and he’s very sleepy and doesn’t really feel like feeling inadequate right now. but zuko’s like, “what are you drawing?” and sokka looks at the page of triangles he was unconsciously doodling and scoffs and says in an affect, “can’t you tell? it’s a cubist take on degas.” and this is the funniest shit to zuko. but of course he then gets yelled at for laughing.

they’re friends after that; they just are. sokka invites zuko to lunch with his friends, at which point zuko meets toph and suki, who are, of course, the fucking coolest.

azula sees zuko talk to sokka or suki occasionally in the halls and demands to know what it is they’re talking about. zuko’s like “i dont….. remember?” but azula is certain that they are only friends with him as a means of getting to her, because they desire to crush her. zuko’s like “i don’t even think they know your name.” indeed, they do not. but sokka does stop calling her “debate asshole” in favor of “zuko’s sister,” so that’s something.

the first time zuko goes to sokka’s house, it is because sokka insists on showing him both back to the future movies. (there is no third one it does not exist.) for reasons unknown to him, zuko is terrified. he wears his favorite sweater that day. it is near-identical to all his other sweaters. he doesn’t understand the first one at all. the second one he remarks “oh that was kind of like hamlet.” that makes sokka really happy. at some point zuko goes to get a glass of water and sokka yells from the couch to bring him back a popsicle from the freezer while he’s at it. zuko complies, but he takes it just before katara goes to get one. he nonchalantly tells her that it was the last one, and she makes a very big show of throwing the box out. she fumes all night that sokka let that rude little bitch into her house. sokka pays her no mind.

mai and zuko are still together at this point, and because mai is dropping hints big enough to pierce through even zuko’s thick skull that she’s feeling left behind in favor of zuko’s new friends, he asks them if it’s cool that she join them for stuff. they’re all like “yeah of course” and mai pretends not to care. they all like mai, especially toph, but all agree that her relationship with zuko is super weird. toph and mai become super tight, and it’s clear as day to toph that mai is in love with ty lee, even if mai is not fully aware of this fact herself. suki, who has been secretly hooking up with ty lee this whole time (don’t worry, sokka knows, and he high-fives her whenever she brags about it), is just like “oh noooooo……” toph insists to mai that she dump zuko, and without mentioning ty lee once, is able to convince her of it just by reminding her that zuko is a super inattentive boyfriend and she deserves better. she does. zuko feels sort of…relieved? he doesn’t know why. he loves mai. he really does. but it’s also like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

zuko doesn’t really know what to do about the fact that his sister is serial-killer level obsessed with sokka, other than try to ignore it. azula is always attempting to pry information out of him because they seem to be, at the very least, casual acquaintances so he must have some leverage by now, right??? she is never allowed to know that he knows where sokka lives, because he is afraid that one night sokka will simply find her hiding in the bushes with binoculars searching for any sign of academic struggle. sokka is blissfully unaware to most of these shenanigans. to him, she is like a buzzing fly occasionally hovering around his face.

that summer, they divide their time between working on college applications and going to the park together to just sit and read. it’s literally the most fun zuko can ever remember having.

english was always sokka’s worst subject because he is terrible at organizing his thoughts coherently and always ends up going on little tangents about the origins of butter churning or digital watches in a paper that was supposed to be about sense & sensibility, but his teachers are usually charmed enough by him that they see his essays as a fun challenge instead of a giant red X. but pakku loathes sokka. and he loathes his sister, whom he had taught the previous year. sokka complains to katara about it, and she just goes on a rant about how horrible and boring and bitter and raggedy he is. but sokka, who, unlike katara, desperately wants to be liked by everyone, feels the need to prove himself.

he goes to the best english student he knows. “hey, you’re really good at english, right?” he asks zuko, to which zuko responds, “i should hope so. it is my first language.” it is unclear whether or not zuko is being facetious or just very perplexed, but sokka laughs anyway. he pleads for zuko to “tutor him” and zuko’s like “but you have all A’s?” he agrees anyway, of course. zuko spends a lot of time on jstor, so he know how to write good. he helps sokka outline his essays in a way that works for him, but mostly it’s just an excuse for them to hang out and eat snacks. at this point, katara likes him and does not mind the fact that he is in her house, eating her food. she walks past the kitchen to be like “what u guys up to? oh, nerd shit?”

sokka and mai accept to the same college, and zuko isn’t sure why he feels so weird about that. they’re gonna be in completely parts of the country, only sokka and mai will see each other all the time, especially because they’re bound to be in some of the same classes together, knowing them, and that’s just weird. like, yeah, they’re friends, and yes, he might be semi-aware of the fact that they hang out without him, like, all the time, but this is different. this is weird. zuko asks mai if she thinks it’s weird and she just raises one eyebrow and goes, “no???” and zuko’s like “oh..okay..”

they don’t see each other all that much in those four years, but they’re always taking pictures of ridiculous passages from the books they’re currently reading and sending them to each other, because they just can’t kick the habit. they both learn a lot in college. sokka takes as many classes as humanly possible. zuko changes his major a lot. toph doesn’t go to school there, but she moves in with sokka once she graduates. zuko learns a lot about himself.

once sokka graduates, he and toph decide to get an apartment in a different city. sokka asks zuko what his plans are once he graduates and zuko’s like “bruh, like i’ve ever planned for anything in my life” so when sokka’s like “wanna be our third roommate” it’s a no-brainer.

sokka picks zuko up from the train station, and zuko is just so overwhelmed by the casual thoughtfulness of the gesture that he instinctively just kisses him, in the middle of the station. zuko is mortified for a brief moment but then sokka is just like “cool.” (sokka later inwardly laments saying “cool.” who says that?? what, is he abed from community???)

sokka tells zuko “just fyi, i don’t do relationships” and zuko is like “yeah, i know, you say that literally every day” but then toph slaps him (”sorryyyyy that was an accident” “no it wasn’t!”) and tells him to get his shit together. so sokka goes to zuko and says, “this may sound insane, but i think i’m afraid that if i love someone, they’ll die” and zuko’s like “oh. i’m afraid of that too.” and that makes it somewhat easier.

ever since mai made them watch over the garden wall, they’ve really wanted frogs so that they could name them after the discarded jason funderburker names. they get their frog terrarium and it’s glorious.

zuko has always wanted a cat, but he knows how sokka feels about cats so he does not bring it up. but one day, as he’s walking down the street, he stumbles across a little black kitten in the cold, shivering, limping, and missing one ear. he drops whatever it is he’s doing at the moment to bundle it up in his scarf and take it to the nearest vet clinic. the kitten is so indebted to him that he physically does not have the willpower to let it go anywhere else but home with him.

it really doesn’t take much convincing at all for sokka to agree to keep jiji (yes, zuko is just incapable of not naming his pets after fictional characters) especially because toph threatens to kill herself if he doesn’t. sokka is just like “woah there calm down you guys. we can keep the cat.” and theyre like “yay sokka youre the best!!!” and he’s just like “oh my god did you think i was gonna make you get rid of this tiny kitten with only one ear.”

zuko has a face for telemarketing. he also does some freelance writing. toph gives sokka very sound legal advice in regards to how to patent all the weird yet supremely useful inventions he keeps stumbling onto. after all, after tim cook offered him $$$ in exchange for that microchip he designed, he sort of doesn’t need a steady job. toph is really good at bullshitting rich people so she makes way more money than she should with those creepy statues of hers. they recognize how unstable their sources of income are, but sokka is really good with finances, so it works out somehow. when katara comes to visit them she complains that sokka has joined the 1% and is hoarding his wealth like the capitalist swine he is. sokka’s just like “katara did you only come visit me because you need money?” and katara’s like “well i won’t lie, so – yes.”

sokka eventually convinces zuko to go to grad school. naturally, zuko thrives there. sometimes zuko will wake up at 3 am and sokka will very intently find him writing the word “nihil” in a notebook and sokka’s like “what’s up” and zuko’s like “NOTHING.” and then proceeds to be like “don’t you see??? there’s no declension!!! everything makes sense now!!!!!!!!!” and rambles on and on incoherently. sokka’s like “oh god i just realized this is how i sound to everyone all the time.”

sokka takes zuko to the worst plays he can find, and then they sit in a 24 hour diner while zuko rants about everything wrong with said play. sometimes he even takes notes. this becomes a weekly tradition.

zuko reads sokka’s shelved manuscript on the history of cartography and helps him whittle it down to only 400 pages. he’s not a very harsh editor, but he did cut the thing by 150%, so that’s a start.

zuko teaches sokka how to paint.

#this has been in our askbox for over two weeks so sorry about THAT #but it happened to coincide with zukkaweek so i think thats fun for us #sokka #zuko #sokkaxzuko #modern au #asks #anon

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broken-clover · 4 years

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AU-gust Day 5- Post-Apocalypse

Ah. Um. Okay. This one is...sad. I mean I guess it kind of is by nature because of the theme? I wanted this to be upbeat and I feel like I missed the mark by a longshot. Wound up crying when I wrote this and tbh it’s probably half-coherent but here please take it. I promise I’ll do something less...this, next time

A massive bonfire lit up the tepid night, licking at the sky with every breeze and stick tossed onto it. Though he could make as big a fire as he wanted with just his hands and a little magic, Sol found a subtle beauty in nurturing a small kindling until it grew powerful enough that it only needed to be contained, swiftly gorging itself on whatever it came across and standing up to buckets of water that once would have been able to smother it a dozen times over. Almost like raising a child, in a way, though at least fire was easier to keep an eye on. And less raucous.

“Hey, old man!”

Speak of the devil. Sol shook his head with a smile and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah? Thought you were supposed to be harvesting with your dad.”

Sin’s hair was as wild as it had ever been, though it took a little bit longer now for it to scrape the ground than it did before. It seemed easier and less labor-intensive to let it grow out into a shaggy mass nearly as tall as he was before lopping it all off. Sin used to be so intent of keeping it short at all times, but one could only go for so long being so hypervigilant before it turned to boredom and apathy. The only reason he even cut it at all was because of how he would trip over it while hunting and doing chores.

“I wanted to see if the fire was almost ready.” He pushed some of that messy hair back over his shoulder. “Besides, harvesting is boring, I’d rather help with the fire instead of having to carry stuff.”

Sol sighed, prodding the edge of a fire with a stick. “You’re nearly five billion years old, and you still complain about chores like a toddler.”

“Learned from the best!” Sin smirked back.

He was going to fire a retort back, but he could practically hear a little voice in his head chirping ‘Just let it go, Frederick. You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.’

“You’re right, you’re right.” He mumbled to himself.

Sin crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine! I’ll sit over with uncle raven then!”

The pale-haired man turned as sin approached the log he was on. “I’m afraid I won’t make for the best of company.”

“Still better than the old man! You use a lot of big fancy words and don’t yell at me when I slouch!”

“Sol!” A voice called from somewhere behind. As expected, when he turned towards it, he found Ky and Dizzy following, each carrying a large basket of greens.

“Figured you’d be longer. The brat didn’t exactly make it easier for you.”

“Well, I suppose a little mischief is alright for tonight.” Said Dizzy. “We were still able to find enough in the field for all of us to have plenty.”

Ky nodded. “And still plenty of leftovers, too. Little bit of mashed fruit, some potatoes, that cheese Raven made three years back, we have a lot! So make sure everyone eats well tonight. Not like we have to save it for anything.”

The man’s expression remained bright, but Sol’s fell. He looked back upwards. The midnight sky was a pale blue, hardly darker than midday. He couldn’t remember when it was truly dark enough to see the stars. Even the moon was little more than a vague crescent. At least the weather was tolerable, even with their hardy bodies, the days had become too hot to withstand, even in the underground bunker they’d shared for the last century or so. The sun was growing bigger and bigger every day, practically enveloping the sky. The few hours of ‘night’ were the biggest relief they got, so it made sense to make the most of what they had left.

Dizzy put her basket on the ground and began pulling out cobs of corn. “Where is Axl?”

“Said he was going on a grocery run.” Replied Ky. “I’m not sure what era though.”

That got Sin’s attention immediately. He sat up stick-straight. “Ooh, he’d better bring back something really good! Chips?”

“Mmm, shame he can’t go back to my time and bring back some of the treats I had in my youth.” Raven said wistfully. “Would probably attract too much attention.”

Sol idly thumbed at the dented lighter in his pocket. He’d run out of cigarettes, and had nothing to occupy his mouth. “He’ll be back whenever, not like he has any sense of deadlines. Just our luck, he’ll skip right past-”

As if on cue, a deep black abyss spiraled in the air nearby, crackling and popping for a moment before someone hopped through, carrying several bags.

“Right on time!” Axl cawed, raising a hand and walking over. “Glad I didn’t miss the party. I brought the food!”

Sin leapt out of his seat and scrambled towards the man, eyes shining. “What did you get? What did you get?”

“Easy, mate, I brought enough for everyone.” The plastic crinkled as he pulled out a variety of different things- packaged hamburgers, snack cakes, fresh fruit, and other things Sol didn’t bother taking note of. He only moved to catch a package of cigarettes as they were tossed to him.

“Maaan, this is much better than being stuck with vegetables!” the youngest’s eyes shone like he had been presented with a priceless treasure. “Jeez, how long’s it been since we’ve seen plastic bags? I think those all broke down ages ago.”

“And to think, people always used to say how wasteful they were, and how long they would take to break down.” Raven quipped, with a blithe little smile. “And now they’re impossibly rare relics.”

“Glad to provide!” Axl did a little bow. “Today, we enjoy the last swiss rolls in existence! Technically speaking.”

The feast started up soon after. Makeshift pots were set up for boiling vegetables, the leftovers were reheated over the fire. Axl’s food was bizarrely pristine alongside everything else, but nobody treated it as anything peculiar. Merriment followed the food, though it mainly just amounted to idle chatter and reminiscing.

“It’s delicious! Very well done.” Ky beamed, though Sol just knew it was bland, at best. “Corn’s so much different than it used to be, but I’m glad we still have that much. Reminds me of that one banquet, uhh, when was it? I seem to be blanking...can’t think of the millennium. I know there were still people back then, does anyone else remember the one with the corn sculpture?”

“Hmm.” Dizzy said. “Was that the one where Leo fell into the courtyard fountain after he drank too much?”

Ky thought for a moment in silence. “...Leo?”

“Scruffy blonde guy, had his own dictionary?” Sin offered.

“It was the first time you were king.” Added Sol.

“First...ah! Now I remember.” He nodded. “Goodness, that was forever ago. It’s hard to keep track. If I told my childhood self that someday I would become the ruler of thirty-five separate nations, I don’t think I would have believed it.”

“I tried once.” Axl replied, between bites of corn. “You thought I was bonkers. Kid-me said the same thing. Guess I don’t blame ‘em. I can hardly believe it sometimes. And I’ve been at this forever!”

“Mostly forever.” Corrected Raven.

“Oh sod off, birdie. B’sides, I could make words mean whatever I want ‘em to. There’s six of us! Who’s gonna stop me from saying ‘cold’ means hot and ‘hot’ means freezin’ your balls off!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Ky interrupted him. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to celebrate. Sin, could you please pass me a hamburger?”

Sol couldn’t take this anymore. “I’ve gotta take a smoke break.”

They all seemed confused by his sudden outburst, but let him leave without too much trouble. He found a place in the wooded thickets that was secluded, where nobody but him could see the way his fingers trembled as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Not even the animals were there to judge him. He couldn’t remember the last time those had existed, anyway.

So when the dead reeds began to rustle, he nearly jumped out of his skin. That was stupid of him. It had to be one of the others. Knowing his luck, it would be Sin, pestering him with enthusiasm and trying to drag him back to the fire, or Ky, with those big, soft, sad eyes that still managed to be able to throw him off guard.

“Chief?”

Shaggy blonde and dirty red bobbed in between the reeds, until Axl emerged right in front of him. How many centuries had he owned the same bandana?

“Chief, what was that about?”

Sol huffed, taking a long drawl of nicotine. “Jus’ needed a breather. I told you.”

“Don’t you toy with me.” The other’s voice softened. He pulled out a cigarette from his own pack.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’ve done just about anything that can be done.” Replied Axl. “I’m serious. What’s wrong? Why did you run off out of nowhere?”

He didn’t want to start a fight, not now. But even at a time like this, it felt preferable to admitting his feelings. It felt like a boulder was on his chest. “How can they be so…”

“So…?”

“So...happy? We can’t take anymore of this. Even if the sun doesn’t consume the planet tomorrow morning, the heat will incinerate everything on the surface and then some. How can they find it in them to celebrate? I know that whole family can be naive, but you and Raven-”

“Sol.” Axl cut him off, softly but firmly. “We know. They all know.”

The answer seemed obvious, but it still felt like a blow to the chest. Sol kept his expression hard and unreasonable. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” He said back. “God, why would I lie to you now? It’s the last bloody day in the world, what do I have to lose anymore?”

The space went quiet. The weight only seemed to grow heavier.

“You know, I’m older than the rest of you.” Axl sighed in dismay. “So, so much more. I’ve done this before. Never been this kind of fun, though. I guess I just needed to get hamburgers? Hehe…”

Sol refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on a glowing bit of ash as it fell to the ground. “You don’t have to be here, y’know. Unlike the rest of us, you can just bail.”

He was met with a slow shake of the head, a patient smile, and sagging shoulders. “I’m an old man, chief. I might not look it, but I’m the oldest thing in the universe. More than you, and Sin, and even Raven. I’ve seen the universe begin over and over again, and every step of it after.”

“And?”

“And I’m tired. I’m really tired of all of this. I’m done. The universe is falling asleep, and I finally want to fall asleep with it. The end of it all is the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to see. It was so tempting at times, but I knew that, even with all of my abilities, I was only capable of living once. I tried changing time. I tried seeing what else there was in the universe. But it all came back to this. Just a handful of people, waiting for it all to end.”

The way his jaw clenched made Sol nearly bite through his cigarette and break his teeth. “Were you the one to tell them, then?”

Another shake. “They’re smart, Sol. I didn’t have to tell them anything. I’d feel so lucky, if I were you. I couldn’t think of anyone better to spend so many eons with.”

It wasn’t right. None of it. But no matter what, Sol knew it didn’t matter. He could spend every last moment of his life screaming and clawing in an attempt to change anything, but there was nothing he could do now. Just a moment of silence before the apocalypse.

So he followed Axl back to the fire. Sol put on one of his rare smiles and hunkered down to chat, regaling dozens of lifetimes with the only people who knew could understand what such an existence was like. The rise and fall of nations, births and deaths and the many long years in between. Wars and peace and prosperity and poverty. Hope and love and crushing despair and the ever-flicking light of human spirit that let them carry on so long, even as the world had begun to end.

Sin ended up falling asleep first, slumped against his mother. Raven and Dizzy and Ky had followed suit eventually, huddled under blankets as Sol glanced between them and the fire.

“Don’t you want to sleep?” He asked his only companion. “I can take care of putting this out.”

A hand slid around his waist. “I want to be with you. Just a little bit longer.”

Sol managed a smirk. “Seems like a waste. You could use it for sleeping.”

He felt the hand trembling slightly, and cling to his clothing. “Is it...is it bad that I’m afraid of being alone for this?”

“No.” Replied Sol, wrapping his own arm around Axl’s body. “It just means you’re human.”

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #sol badguy #Axl Low #there are other characters #but I won't tag them

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

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behind the scenes

I was so busy, but this blog is 5 years old! To commemorate, I’ll share notes and thoughts on some of the stuff I’ve written, like a behind the scenes look. Also, I’ll do anything to not think about my apartment right now.

Eating Together, Drinking Alone

Originally, Hiko was going to be responsible for some of the foreigner killings, but I thought this was too close to Kenshin’s past and it made more sense for his backstory that no one could personally be blamed. It’s easier to blame a specific person, something less abstract, and a different kind of personality would result from that trajectory. For Hiko, who removes himself from the world, the world itself had to be at fault. A natural disaster seemed to fit.

I expanded on Tae’s personality, since I think what we see in canon is her customer service face. It’s the nicest, most self-effacing version of oneself. She’s still pleasant of course, but she’s also brave and lively and that’s the side I wanted to showcase more. Not drastically different from her public face, but a different face regardless.

I never intended for Hiko and Tae to kiss. Sorry! Part of it was that a lot of period dramas don’t necessarily have kissing, and part of it was while I was writing it, I wasn’t really thinking of them together in a physical sense. I was more focused on their emotional connection and actually getting Tae to fall for him. Also, with how intensely private Hiko is, any intimate scenes would be fade-to-black.

I fully believe that kids aren’t a requisite for a happy ending, and I hint that Tae would probably have fertility struggles anyway because her sister and mom did. However! If they did have a kid together in an AU, I imagine it’d be a daughter who’s ambitious and confident and the epitome of “hi I’m here to ruin everything”.

The line “You’re not business, Sekihara” caught me by surprise when I was rereading earlier this year, because I don’t remember writing that? But it’s so swoon-worthy? Damn, good job, past me.

In the epilogue, when Keita mentions “Aoshi and the girls”, that was supposed to be a setup for a work about the kids. So, Aoshi and Misao have three daughters, who are rowdy and energetic and exactly what their dad deserves lmao. They’re a bit on the younger end, closer in age to Keita and Sumire. Their names were Narumi, Ruriko, and Sorano!

The Master and Her Pet

The master of the other dojo in the tournament, Ishii, makes a cameo in At Arm’s Length, in one of Koshijiro’s teenage flashbacks!

From what I recall, the alcohol that Sano sent them is sombai, which is a strong liquor with herbs. I’ve never had it, I just read descriptions of the taste. It seemed to be suitable because I imagine he’d be in the part of the world it comes from, and since it’s a rice based liquor, it would be palatable to them.

One of the reviews thought that Hitomi is pregnant but she’s not. Tbh she’s down to smash any time, but Kazumasa would never have sex before marriage. Also, it’s funny that while the guys are in the parlor, having a deep conversation about what it means to be a good husband, the girls are upstairs talking about the logistics of 69′ing.

With These Hands

Things may seem off in regards to Kaoru’s residency, but that’s because I used the Japanese version, which is different than here in America, and because I was younger then, so I didn’t know as much about the process. I’ll probably rewrite and fix things around when I have time!

I kinda threw Soujiro under the bus, but I wanted to use him as a stand-in for what someone told me. Over the years, I’ve also realized that while it may be true, I’ve been more receptive to the same advice when it comes from a woman, because it’s a matter of firsthand experience. Otherwise, it just sounds like the person is contributing to the problem, despite their intentions.

There’s an in-story reason why Kenshin is so forward towards Kaoru, and it’s not necessarily romantic (at first), but yeah, it’s on purpose!

At Arm’s Length

To be honest, I don’t put a lot of stock in Freudian psychology, but it’s not coincidental that some of Koshijiro’s personality is similar to Kenshin’s. They’re both introspective, protective, idealistic, peace-loving. It’s the kind of personality that would believe in Kamiya Kasshin and its success.

Hayashi rice was a thing around this time, and the wine in it would have been off-putting to Koshijiro.

I wanted to explore why Koshijiro would fight for an end to the shogunate’s oppression, and the logical conclusion was that his mom was a commoner. Also, it made sense for his name. Miyo had just turned 20 when she had Koshijiro, and Keiichiro was in his 30s. I do have an idea for an omake about how they met, once the main story is done.

I’ve dropped some hints but Kyoko has lupus. When I was first starting the story, I didn’t really have a good idea on what her affliction was, but as I learned more, it really fit what I wanted for her (chronic, fatiguing, possibly explaining why Kaoru’s an only child, and eventually fatal at a young age in historical times).

Kyoko fell for Koshijiro when he said he wouldn’t forget her name. She’s used to being shut away and isolated, so that little reassurance meant a great deal to her. It was a crush that deepened when he got the books for her, and she cried a lot when he had to leave.

Kyoko’s parents are supposed to be a contrast to Koshijiro’s. Her parents have fallen out of love and now hardly tolerate the other’s presence, but aren’t able to separate without harming Kyoko in some way (though their staying together makes her tense too). Meanwhile, Miyo and Keiichiro can’t physically be with each other, but they’re still immensely fond of and attracted to the other. Koshijiro is just awkward around them because he doesn’t know how to deal.

I’ve written the last line already, like in 2017? So, yeah, there’s no way I’m dropping this story.

Life’s Blood and Burning Sunsets

Akane’s cousin in the WWII AU was intended to be Kagari. RIP.

I was originally going to write a spinoff about Aya, as an Inspector investigating Akane’s sudden disappearance and finding out that Kougami was her dad, but it looks like canon is going in a different (less angsty for the OTP) direction and I’m on board! Aya’s name is written as “truth”, though I imagine it’s a popular name for her generation, except written as “color”. Also unintentional, but I didn’t realize until recently that her name has the A from Akane and the -ya from Shinya. Lol.

Storm Clouds of a Faraway Sky

In Chapter 3, the rice riots really were a thing! The chaotic atmosphere fit the riots from Season 1, so it made sense to set the story in that specific year.

I stayed up until 2 am to write the last prompt and man, I don’t regret it. I still reread it now and then.

Puzzle

Originally, my gut reaction to this scene was “They’re married! They’re married!” But logically, that’s probably not the case. This was to just reconcile the two lines of thought. Having Arata as our narrator made sense because he’s an outsider, he doesn’t really know either of them, so he’s working from the ground up. And of course, there’s room to speculate.

Stouthearted

I don’t know how many people will catch this, but the way I write Tomoyo for most of the story is that she’s essentially wearing a mask. More specifically, the mask of Satoru. In my mind, she’s internalized him so well and for so long, it’s difficult even for her to drop it. Her true personality is very straightforward and direct. It comes out in little moments like when she’s crying at night, or the scene when she says “I didn’t like it when Shinya started, and I still don’t.” I was going to reveal this via a flashback when she met with Professor Saiga at some point, and he notices this, which instigates her strong dislike of him. But I couldn’t find a way to naturally put it in. Maybe as a separate oneshot someday?

#personal #writing #rurouni kenshin #psycho pass

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

Ardently

Part One: First Impressions

Pairings: Kyungsoo x OC, Jongin x OC

Genre: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2k

taglist: @jineunwootrash

Note: (oof a long note, here we go) Here is the first chapter from a Kyungsoo fic I will be working on. This is based on Pride and Prejudice; it is set in present-day, in the K-Pop industry. I’m experimenting with writing in first person, and the main character is named Maisa. There will be a few original characters in this story, and I am very excited because this is the first time I will write a full-length fic for this blog that is not mostly a Social Media AU. I will likely not post the rest until I have finished the story just so I will have plenty of time to develop and edit my ideas without publishing plot holes, but I was just too excited about this idea to keep it all to myself. I realllllllly hope you like it! -Ash

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Jongin. The many years we spent together as children didn’t prepare us to be separated for months at a time because of his busy schedules as an official S.M. Entertainment idol. Although he never failed to brighten my day through texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes, nothing compared to seeing his smile in person.

Will Taemin be somewhere in this building? I wondered as I approached the S.M. building where Jongin asked to meet. Surely he’s here somewhere. SHINee has just finished a tour in Japan.

I squirmed at the thought of Taemin, not because we had some kind of disagreement or because I was as starstruck as almost every other person in the world, but because I had been avoiding him for what now seems like a very childish reason.

Taemin had ventured far beyond the poor town we— he, Jongin, and I— had been raised in, and his fame grew daily. I wasn’t jealous— not maliciously, anyway— but I felt that he and I were living in very different worlds, and I worried that if I spent too much time with him, he would realize it too.

This fear would have threatened my friendship with Jongin, too, if he wasn’t so determined to honor our childhood promise to be best friends forever.

However, when he smiled warmly as he stepped through the glass doors and drew me into a tight embrace, my fear was quickly quelled and replaced with confidence that Jongin would remind grounded at my side no matter how high his talents dared him to soar. And I couldn’t decide if that made me feel relieved or guilty.

“So where’s this little restaurant you’re so obsessed with?” I asked as he released me.

Pointing across the street, he replied, “Just there.” And when I tried to follow his directions he grabbed me by arm and said, “But first— I’ve convinced one of the executives to meet with you!”

"What?" My jaw dropped.

How had I not seen through the lunch invitation that thinly veiled Jongin's thousandth attempt to coerce one of his bosses into giving me a job? I had likely forgotten about that goal of his since his efforts never succeded past a few uncomfortable phone calls where I stubbornly maintained that, "I don't want to owe you or Taemin." But now that he dragged me into the building, a conversation with some professional executive seemed inevitable.

"Ew!" Jongin shrieked and dropped my hand as soon as the elevator doors closed behind him and effectively trapped me into his plan. "Your palms are really sweaty." While wiping his hands off on his jeans, he advised, "You should see a doctor about that."

I argued," Clammy palms are a natural response to sudden extreme stress!" Still, I blushed at his observation and tried to pass my colored cheeks off as a symptom of annoyance by asking, "How could you trick me into some kind of job interview? I was promised sushi!"

Jongin laughed, probably mistaking my authentic blossoming panic for theatrics. "Don't worry, Mai, you'll still get your sushi-- you'll just get a chance at your dream job first."

His natural optimism should have been some sort of comfort. Instead, I crossed my arms, pressed my back against the cold steel elevator door, and mumbled, "Don't be ridiculous, Jongin, nobody would hire some random girl off the streets to write songs-- especially not one of the big three."

Ever determined to disagree, Jongin grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and reminded me, "You're not just some random girl-- you're my best friend, you're insanely talented, and on the off chance that Mr. Lee doesn't see that, I'll get you a meeting with everyone in this industry until you're hired."

Maybe it wasn't the best pep talk in history, but I swear that Jongin's smile could inspire anyone to do just about anything, so I shamelessly followed him out of the elevator, holding my head high. I only faltered when he stopped abruptly and said, "Wait here. Let me make sure Mr. Lee isn't busy."

Instantly, my confidence evaporated. The hall was eerily silent except for the clicking of keyboards that escaped from the few open office doors, so I quietly hissed, "You mean you don't even have an appointment?"

Jongin held a finger up to his lips. Perhaps sensing my screaming instinct to run, he repeated, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He tapped his knuckles against the sleek black door, just under a gold sign that read Soo-man Lee: CEO, and he winked at me before entering the room at Mr. Lee's beckoning.

Suffice it to say that I wasted no time racing back to the elevator once Jongin was out of sight. It wasn't that I wanted to disappoint Jongin or seem ungrateful of his efforts, but meeting the CEO of S.M. Entertainment seemed like a giant leap rather than the first step toward my dream of composing music. The fact that I was unprepared and uninvited made the whole situation feel like a nightmare-- not at all like a dream come true.

As my tennis shoes slapped against the marble floor, I decided that I could easily beg for Jongin's forgiveness, and he would kindly grant it, but I could never reclaim my pride after being rejected by S.M. I could never recover from the crushing determination that I wouldn't get to achieve my dreams alongside Jongin and Taemin. I preferred to keep telling myself "someday, someday soon," because then I would never have to face the absolute of "never--you aren't good enough."

When did I become so paralyzed by fear? My thoughts stunned me. I considered myself bold, unafraid to speak my mind, in all manners except the pursuit of my deepest dream. What good is it to be brave except when it really counts?

As I struggled to no avail to find an answer within myself, somebody rounded the corner at a sprint and collided with me. With what felt like a thundering crash, I fell onto my back. My string of curses complimented that of whoever ran into me, but I was initially too dazed to glance at him.

When I finally sat upright and glared at him, prepared to lecture him for failing to offer so much as an apology, I noticed that he was too busy gathering his scattered papers to even realize that he knocked me down. I was going to ask where he was going that was so important-- or if he had ever heard of a paperclip-- but I was shocked into silence when he looked at me over his glasses with eyes blown wide.

I never imagined that I would meet Do Kyungsoo while running away from a job interview with the CEO of S.M. Entertainment that was set up by my best friend to help me achieve my dream. Actually, I never imagined that I would meet him at all, and I certainly never dreamed that he could be so rude as to ask, "Who are you looking at?"

Overwhelmed by an unprecedented blend of awe, embarrassment, and blind rage, I stuttered around an answer until he dismissively waved my babbling away. "Forget it. I don't have time for this."

Once I was away from him, I knew, I would think of a thousand ways to put him in his place. I wondered, what good is wit when it isn't quick when it counts? Quickly, I resolved to scramble to my feet and out of the building before matters could worsen.

"Hey wait."

I never would have admitted that my heart swelled with the rise of his voice because I assumed that he would apologize (for running into me and then for being so rude) and that I might be lucky enough to have one of those romantic first meetings that I learned about from Jane Austen and K-Dramas alike.

But when I turned to face him, he stood tall, papers in hand, pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and ordered, "Bring me coffee and a cinnamon bagel from the kitchen; I'll be in Mr. Kim's office."

Had he not been staring right at me, I would have thought he was talking to somebody else.

Only when he turned around, started down the hallway, and freed me from his oppressive gaze did I find my voice. "No, I won't get your breakfast. First of all, it's well past noon, and second, I don't know where that is!"

Kyungsoo rounded again, his mouth slightly agape as if he assumed I was mute. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, "You don't know where the kitchen is? Or where Mr. Kim's office is?"

"Neither."

Unwilling to hear the explanation that this was my first (and likely only) time in the S.M. Building, and I wasn't here of my own choice, and-- above all-- I was not his servant, Kyungsoo demanded, "What good are you then? Does the help around here know anything these days?"

And just as I stormed toward him, dangerously close to succumbing to my temper's urging, Jongin appeared at Kyungsoo's side, locked eyes with me, and cheered, "There you are!"

Jongin would have had to be blind to miss how Kyungsoo and I glared at each other, each silently daring the other to say just one more word to justify our impending outburst. In what must have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he laughed, "I should have known you would run off to catch a glimpse of your bias."

I opened my mouth to rob Kyungsoo of the flattery by telling Jongin that I officially decided to change biases, but I was interrupted by Kyungsoo asking, "So you know this girl?"

Jongin joyfully thew an arm around my shoulders and, contrasting greatly against Kyungsoo's disgusted, disbelieving tone, cheerfully declared, "Oh yeah! Maisa has been my best friend forever. And you should get used to her, D.O., because she's gonna be the best songwriter in S.M.'s history!"

Jongin's boasting about me was never quite as humiliating as right then, when Kyungsoo simply rose his eyebrows and questioned, "She will?"

Don't misunderstand-- I wasn't offended because I was oozing with self-confidence or because I was so convinced that I was destined to be some composing legend. In fact, I had absolutely no confidence that Jongin's last-minute surprise interview would work to my advantage in the slightest. Had he not offended me from the moment our eyes met, I would have agreed that Kyungsoo's skepticism was supported by all rationality, but given the events of those past five minutes, I literally bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him for Jongin's sake.

Without missing a beat, Jongin answered, "Definitely," and steered me back to Mr. Lee's office before I could bite through my tongue or say anything regrettable.

Once I regained control of my thoughts, I started, "What a-- a--"

But I struggled to fathom an insult becoming of Kyungsoo. Finally, I settled on screaming, "Douche canoe!" with no concern for whether Kyungsoo, Soo-man Lee, or anyone else in the building heard.

Jongin must have expected a tantrum, because he merely blinked and warned, "You shouldn't let Kyungsoo under your skin." He leaned against the wall beside the CEO's door, tried to nudge me out of my frustration, and claimed, "Seriously, Mai, he's just not one for first impressions--"

Although unamused, I laughed. "That has to be the biggest understatement ever. He isn't even half as pleasant as the most disagreeable character he's ever played--"

"Maisa!" Jongin interrupted. I only closed my mouth when I noticed his protruding pout. "We'll talk about Kyungsoo later because I know you're not gonna get over it any time soon. But for now, get in there and convince Mr. Lee that you belong in an office brainstorming lyrics, not locked away in the kitchens!"

I barely managed to quizzically repeat, "The kitchens?" before being shoved into the office.

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

III: The masquerade ball

Synopsis: This is an AU where the monarchy in Cordonia doesn’t longer exist and it has been replaced by a republic. It’s set in the final stages of the presidential race with Senator Liam Rhys competing against Fidelya’s Governor Godfrey Karlington. To assure his son’s victory, Constantine makes an arrangement behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats she has no other option that seduce Liam and make him fall in love with her. But what does she really feel?

In this episode: Drake can’t stop thinking about Elena while Liam is struggling with his father’s demands. The ambassador and Constantine explain their plan to Alexis.

To catch up here’s the Masterlist

Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get dark. In this episode, there is mention of child neglect.

Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really appreciate ALL comments and feedback.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry except for Alexis O’Briens and her horrible father, George O’Brien

@pug-bitch @texaskitten30

Thanks to @mskaneko for the beautiful mood board

Drake woke up thinking about Elena, replaying the night before over and over again; refusing to accept the fact that he might never see her again. At the end of the night, before Drake left her at the restaurant, they had shared a last kiss, as passionate as the ones on the beach. He thought that maybe this time, his luck would change and he would be able to find her. Normally, Drake wouldn’t be optimistic. He always waiting for the worse to happen, but with her, just for this once, he was allowing himself to hope.

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It was the fourth night on a row that Liam Rhys woke up at 3 o’clock, unable to sleep any further. His father had been bothering him about his lack of fiancé since the beginning of the campaign. Liam knew he would have to choose someone soon or Constantine threats to pick a woman for him would become real. Since the day his father offered him Leo’s spot as a Presidential candidate, Liam was aware that having an arraigned marriage was a real possibility, but right now, it felt too tangible. He started wondering if he’ll be able to go through it at all. Could he fall in love someday? Or would he be like his father? Married to a woman he could barely tolerate. Liam loved his country, he wanted to sacrifice everything to follow his father’s steps, fulfill his dreams, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a loveless life was really the only solution. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he was startled by Drake entering the room where they both had their morning meeting every day. His best friend seemed content and was even grinning, something rather unusual for him.

“Hi, man!” Drake stood at the door “Fuck! You look like shit”

Liam chuckled “He! Thanks, Drake, as subtle as usual. I couldn’t sleep last night, I had lunch with father yesterday and it was rather … tense”

Drake grimaced at the mention of Constantine, he knew nothing good could come from a meeting with his “adoptive” father.

“Apparently, according to the polls, I need to become a family man as soon as possible, if I want to win the race”

“I don’t want to alarm you, my future president, but there is no way even you and your legendary charm would be able to pull a whole family in a few months.”

Liam sighed “I need to find a woman and get engaged or, according to my father, preferably married before the election day.”

“And he doesn’t think the people will see right through that?” Drake asked, arching his eyebrows.

“He thinks that if we choose the correct woman, it could look like we fell in love fast and it could raise my chances in the polls, is just…” Liam was standing next to the window, his gaze lost in the horizon before him.

“What Liam?”

“I don’t know if I can pull this trough. You know what it was to grow in a house where the parents hated each other. The five of us suffered enough because of it”

It was Drake’s turn to look out the window pensively. “Well, at least for the first part of my life, Savvy and I actually had a real family. It wasn’t the same for you guys, but I get it.” He turned to face Liam, “you don’t want your kids to grow up the way we did”

“Exactly.” Liam looked straight at Drake and added, “I’m aware that you and Liv took the worst part of it, Drake”

Drake cleared his throat trying to avoid the painful subject of his childhood at the Rhys’s mansion.

“Look, Liam, you have to face your father. Tell him that he doesn’t get to live through you, that you can be president and lead your own life”

“I told him I refuse to have an arraigned marriage, but the problem is that he’s right. I will never be able to win this race a single man. And you know how badly I want to change this country. All the progress I want to make, the laws I want to change…and for that to happen, I need to be president.” He sat on his desk “But, enough about that for now. What’s on the agenda for today?”

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Alexis O’Brien was lost in her thoughts, remembering the day her father had separated her from one of the few people she had ever loved. One day, he had just shipped her to that horrible reformatory in France pompously called “boarding school”. She was only 6 years old at the time, but she could still remember those first years: the solitude, the fear, the tears, and the constant punishments trying to make her the perfect lady that would marry well someday.

And that day had almost arrived.

“Liam Rhys …” She had googled him. He was an extremely handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a dashing smile. In all the photos he seemed like the perfect boyfriend, always wearing the perfect suit with expensive matching shoes. Alexis could bet anything that he was very polite and charming in all circumstances… never letting anyone see what he was really thinking. She had dated guys like that all her life. It was actually the only kind of guy her father allowed her to date until she could free herself at age 18. He pressured her to go out with wealthy boys whose parents had something to give him in exchange. Sadly, Alexis considered herself lucky because he was not trying to sell her to the fathers instead of the sons. Something she knew George O’Brien wasn’t above of. She just couldn’t believe she was trapped again, but the threat he held over her was impossible to ignore. The sound of her father and Constantine Rhys entering the office brought her back to reality.

“Dear Father, Constantine” the sarcasm in her voice was palpable “Here I am, what is the plan exactly?”

George O’Brien was about to respond when Constantine raised his hand. “Please Ambassador, let me explain it to your daughter.” George nodded.

“It is very simple Alexis. As you already know, you’re here to marry my son before the elections so he can be president and we can all win something.” Alexis snorted, but Constantine ignored her and continued.

“The problem is that this generation is filled with men full of romantic ideas that make them weak. Unfortunately for us, both my sons belong to that category. I know that if I imposed you to Liam as his wife, he’d be unable to either go with it, or look the part. The press would spot the lie in five minutes, and he would lose anyway. That’s why we need you to act like a normal suitor. He is aware that tonight there will be some appropriate women for him to choose a fiancé. You are a very beautiful woman, and I have no doubt in my mind that if it is you who seduce Liam, he’ll be charmed. In other words, he’ll feel that he fell in love with you, which will make your couple credible enough for him to win the elections.”

Alexis was furious before such a flagrant display of cynicism “Are you telling me that it doesn’t bother you to lie to your own son like that?”

It was George’s time to speak or rather to yell “That’s enough Alexis! You know very well what’s on stake here. Either you play your part of the bargain or you know who will pay the consequences”

Alexis paled at the threat, but tried to hide her fear answering with all the loath and contempt she was capable in one single sentence: “Don’t worry father, I’ll do it.”

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The ballroom that held the Masquerade was exquisitely decorated, Liam was impressed by the talents of Maxwell Beaumont. It was true that Max didn’t take most things seriously, but he was one hell of a party planner.

Liam started to mingle among the different guests with, as Drake loved to call it, his “candidate’s smile” all over his face. Although Liam was passionate about his country and wanted to make a real difference in it, he hated these events as much as his best friend did. It was always the same people, the same conversations, the same food.

He went to the terrace to have five minutes to himself when he saw an exquisite woman already standing there. She was tall and was wearing a beautiful white dress that suited her perfectly. Her long brown hair was on one side, so he could see her elegant neck and the curve of her back. She must have sensed his presence because she turned around to face him. Her mask was on her face, but he could still see that she had amazing dark eyes, bright and with streaks of gold on them. He looked at her mesmerized for a second.

“Sorry, miss.” Liam cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe how dense he was being, he was more than used to talk to beautiful women, but something about her made him incredibly nervous. She smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rhys. I was just enjoying the view. Cordonia's old castle looks beautiful from here."

"It does indeed, I see that you know who I am, maybe you can tell me your name as well," He said with a charming smile.

She grinned at him "I could but it might be more interesting to maintain the mystery a little longer"

"He, ok. What about this, you ask me one question, and if I guess correctly you tell me your name and you take off your mask"

"Haha!" She laughed with the most musical laugh he had ever heard "Aren't we a little ambitious?” She looked pensive for a second “Ok, one question, and if I like the answer, the name, and the mask go "

"Deal"

“What made you run as a Presidential candidate? And I demand a real answer Mr. Rhys and not the BS you politicians feed to the press.” She grinned with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Wow, you really don’t go around the bushes.” Liam paused to think before answering, wanting to tell her the truth “At first, it was my father’s dream. He was the grandson of the last Cordonian King, then he was the third elected president. He wanted us, Leo or me, to continue his legacy. He groomed us for it. But it wasn’t until I was a Senator here in Cordonia City that I started to see the importance of politics. I realized that instead of being another spoiled ‘son of’ I could be the person that would help Cordonia to evolve. That I could actually change the future of our nation. And I have a lot of plans for it.”

She could see in his eyes that he was being honest, there was something incredibly inspiring about him.

Liam smiled at her. “So…do I deserve to know you?”

She smiled back, taking off her mask at the same time. “My name is Alexis O’Brien”

Drake was standing next to the bar still thinking about the night before when he saw Liam talking to a woman. She was dressed in white and wearing a mask, but he could guess that she was beautiful. Liam seemed completely smitten by her. That thought made him happy. Liam deserved to find someone he’ll really love and who will love him in return, Drake knew how scared Liam was at the thought of living in a loveless marriage. He watched Liam say something to the woman’s ear, making her laugh. She definitely seemed as smitten as he was. They were both completely captivated by each other. Drake was about to turn around and give them some privacy when the woman grinned, taking off her mask.

Drake couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Elena.

#liam x mc #drakexmc #trr #drake x mc #axwalker writes #the trade

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