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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

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araw-araw [na jaemin]

(EVERY DAY)

part of “the puhon playlist” collection

SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circmstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart PAIRING | na jaemin x female! reader GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, insecurities, some sex jokes LMAO, i project a lot in this i’m sorry JSFJG WORD COUNT | 14.5k TAGLIST | @prettyjaems @lcvemark @shra-vasti @danishmiilk @probablygonnahurtsomebody @jccv @rebel-lious-alien @dalkomhanchocolateicecream @kthpurplesyou @fullsuhnshine @dejvns @nctzun @sweetjaemss @sehunniepot @wownajaemin @emoshishi @holywaterbetch @ukiyoneo @injunified @huangxx @jaehyunnie3 @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

a/n: HERE IT IS.... MY PRIDE AND JOY JHSFJSD gahh okay i’m gonna keep my rambling to a minimum but this fic is very close and very dear to my heart and if it isn’t obvious that i’m in love with jaemin then this fic will make it obvious LMAO

also do yourself a favor and listen to ben&ben’s araw-araw on loop while reading this!! adds to the ~vibe~ hehe

Five-thirty-seven in the morning, grey clouds stretching throughout the sky as you peeked outside the window, falling right above oceans and buildings and people that you couldn’t even see. You sighed as you sank deeper into your chair, closing your eyes and adjusting your earbuds to clear your thoughts that were brought about by your sudden move.

You felt a nudge from beside you, coming from your mother (your dad was long knocked out since earlier), and so you politely pulled the earbuds away. “Excited to come back to Korea?” she asked. You simply responded with a smile and hum.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like the idea of returning— it was the prospect that it did not even feel like you were returning in the first place. Indifference was what you felt. After moving to Los Angeles when you were twelve because of your father’s job, you had to say goodbye to all your friends living in your hometown, all the traditions and customs that you were used to, and all the memories that you have built up in order to get used to a new environment. Seven years later when you thought you were just about to fit in with the west, your father comes out with the news of going back to Seoul again.

So it was difficult to manage a full smile.

You had a thought as you looked down through the window, recognizing a few of the landmarks that stood out: how strange it was to have somewhere that used to be home feel so foreign.

Just as you were about to put in your earbuds back in, your mother suddenly brightened, looking at you with a large smile on her face, eliciting your curious gaze.

“Oh! Do you still remember your old friend Jaemin?”

A smile tugged at your lips. How could you forget him?

Na Jaemin. Nana. Jaems. Your childhood best friend for six years until you were forcibly shipped all the way to LA. You still remembered how hesitant you were to tell him that you were moving because you didn’t want him to cry— only to have you crying and refusing to let go of him until your parent's pried you off of him at the airport. He assured you while wiping away your tears that you’d still get to see him one day.

Maybe that day would actually be one of these days.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings of your jacket. “Why? I haven’t been in contact with him for years now.”

“His mom and I talked the other day and I told her that we’re moving back! And just earlier, she told me that Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport so we won’t have to take a cab. Isn’t that great? You’d get to be reunited with your old friend again.”

“Ah,” you paused for a moment, in thought, just before pressing your lips together into a tight smile. “Yeah, it would be nice to see him again.”

That was what you said, but even until you left the plane, lugging your baggage across the cold floors of the airport with your music at full volume to drown out the noise, you were actually rather conflicted about meeting him again. A lot could happen within seven years, and therefore there was no assurance that things would still be the same. You weren’t sure if he’d still be the same sweet boy that was determined to fight the park swings after you fell and cried, if he’d still be the same kid that stopped talking to you for three days because you tricked him into eating a strawberry flavored lollipop. Maybe he’d still be, maybe he wouldn’t, but it was exactly that uncertainty that made you feel uneasy.

Still, there was still a hint of excitement, a string that tugged your heart away from all the uneasiness, just enough to bring a smile to your face at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N, let’s go?”

Your father called out to you and you didn’t even realize that you have actually stopped walking amidst your musings.

“Oh, yeah I—” you stumbled in between the ever moving airport crowd, looking down to see your shoelace had become undone, and so you let go of your suitcase. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec!”

You ducked down, right beside the large, grey case to fix it, lips pursed in concentration. People passed by without minding you too much, but at one instance, just as you had finished retying your shoelace, your suitcase moved away from you with a shadow looming from above. Panic struck, and so you jolted up, instincts forcing your hand to move, quickly grabbing the handle. There was another hand resting on it. Your eyes moved up to meet with the culprit's.

Weirdly enough, he was just as shocked as you are.

Even weirder— he looked way, way too attractive to be a thief. Or maybe that was the modus these days? Still, you harshly dragged back the suitcase, ripping it away from his grasp with a glare. “What the fuck—”

At that moment, you recalled your mother’s words. Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport. This guy looked a little too much like your old friend from your old neighborhood.

It felt like you were looking into the exact same large, dark eyes that used to be always accompanied by a pretty smile, now matched by a mouth hanging slightly agape from surprise. He even had the same dark hair that always messily fell over his eyes. There was a moment of pause in between the rush of bodies, the both of you in a frozen trance staring at each other until you had finally realized that motherfucker— this was Na Jaemin.

When did he get so hot?

“I—”

He flashed you a smile. The same damned smile. It brought you to the conclusion that seven years really didn’t do anything except make him far too attractive for his own good. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious about your own appearance as you gawked at him. God really liked to play favorites, huh?

You could see him say something, his lips moving just enough to represent a few words, but it was muffled thanks to the blaring music. Your confusion reflected clearly on your face contorting, and Jaemin only shook his head and laughed before reaching his hands to your face, bringing you to a momentary halt of haywire because what the actual fuck was he doing.

“You shouldn’t listen to music too loudly in public,” he said, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and gingerly placing them into your open palms with a smile. Holy fuck, his voice got so deep. “I’ve been calling out to you since earlier, but you couldn’t hear. Let’s go, your parents are waiting.”

Before you could even try to recollect yourself from the sudden crashing of events, Jaemin took your suitcase in your stead, leading you to his car.

If you still weren’t sure whether or not this was Na Jaemin from your past, you were now because although a bit watered down, he was just as excessively weird and sweet as he was ages ago. You found yourself feeling stupid for even doubting it in the first place. Of course, he was still the same; he even chirps your name in the same way as he always did before.

“There we go,” with a huff, the trunk came to a close. He threw your suitcase in there after seeing your mini struggle episode with far too little effort for your peace of mind. “You should just ask me next time. Okay, Y/N?”

“Thanks,” you gave him a small nod, flustered when he pinched your left cheek while making a questionable noise, and he opened the car door for you to enter.

Maybe it was you that had changed.

You were fairly quiet throughout the car ride while your parents and Jaemin decided to catch up after everything, only listening and giving your reactions whenever needed. You weren’t a morning person and your jetlag wasn’t doing you of any help either.

“You’re in your third year, right Jaemin?” your father asked, sitting at the front seat as your mother and you sat behind.

“Yep, yep,” he happily replied.

“Time really does fly fast, doesn’t it?” your mother joined in. “What uni do you go to, Jaemin?”

“Ah,” he sounded, eyes still directed on the road. “NCT U. It’s the closest at home, and I didn’t really wanna move out.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! Y/N isn’t that where you’re planning on going, too?”

“Really?” you could see Jaemin’s eyes brighten from the mirrors. “Y/N, do you want me to help you with your requirements? Have you enrolled already? I can give you a tour if you want!”

He’s really the same. You thought, smiling. “It’s fine, Jaemin. I already enrolled and took care of everything online.”

“But I should still tour you, though!” he retorted, the pout and whine evident in his voice. “The campus is really big so you might get lost. Ah, but aren’t universities in the States much bigger? I can also introduce you to some of my friends if you like.”

Jaemin went on for a while, telling your parents not to worry and promising that he’d take care of you throughout your college life here in Korea despite your protests that you could very much take care of your own self. Eventually, your mother asked about his major, and his animated expressions dimmed down into a slight bashfulness after answering that he was taking biology. You joined the conversation upon hearing that. “You said back then that you wanted to be a surgeon, right?”

With a shy smile, he nodded, and at that moment you felt a rush of awe for your childhood friend. Your parents seemed to have reacted the same way seeing as he was growing a little more embarrassed. It was amazing how he held on to the same dream he held since he was a kid— the amount of passion and dedication he must have for it. You on the other hand—

“What about you, Y/N?”

You jumped at the sudden subject switch. “Oh, I’m—” a pause in your statement. “I’m… taking an arts course.”

“Wow! As expected, Y/N is as cool as always,” he doted, which caused you to flush.

“It’s— it’s not really that amazing, it’s just the only thing I’m kinda good at so—”

“No, no, no. Y/N, you shouldn’t say that,” he scolded, clicking his tongue while his hands remained on the wheel. Your mother was beside you yet he was the one doing the mom nagging. “Who is that again? Bob Ross? Leonardo DiCaprio? You’re gonna be much much much better than them someday, I just know it! I have something called Nana vision, you know.”

You stifled a quiet laugh, not having the heart to correct him that it was not DiCaprio. “Does your Nana vision also see that we’re already almost at the complex?”

“Oh!”

At your words, Jaemin’s attention was now a hundred percent back on driving, profusely apologizing for getting distracted. You could see his ears slightly reddening from your seat which lasted until the end of the drive. Jaemin helped your family carry everything to your apartment on the eighth floor, even volunteering to help you unpack. Your mother firmly declined, however, insisting him to take a rest after all his help, but she did invite him and his parents over for dinner tomorrow. A little reunion of sorts.

“Six in the evening, right?”

“Yes. You should head back home now, Jaemin. Thank you for everything.”

He shot a bright smile before readying to march outside. “We’ll be here by five!”

She laughed at him, shaking her head, and proceeded to look for you inside the mess of the living room. You were about to disappear inside your room, luggage in hand to unpack, but she quickly dragged you back by the ear. “Go see him out the door!” she whisper-yelled, and so you did. Fortunately, he was stopped by your father before he got to leave, so you took this opportunity to smoothly stride beside him as he slipped past the door when he said goodbye. The door clicked to a close. He raised a brow at you.

“Mother’s orders,” you answered.

“So you wouldn’t have gone out if she didn’t tell you to?” he huffed, pouting. “And I was really happy to see you, too. I think I might have to take that back.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing, and eventually you made it to the end of the hallway. “Too late. You can’t take back your happiness. It’s good to see you again, Jaemin.”

The both of you stopped right in front of the elevator, and you waited for him to depart, but he didn’t. He had his arms crossed over his chest, accompanied by an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite tell if it was hurt, disappointment, or offense. Probably all three. Definitely all three.

“What? are you putting up a wall between us? Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?” he groused, nose scrunching. “What happened to Jaems? Nana? Y/N, you’re seriously hurting me over here.”

Laughing at the way he was sticking his frown right into your face to prove his point, you playfully shoved him off, pushing him into the elevator after all of his complaints even though he was the one moving his feet, anyway. You missed him, that much you could conclude, therefore you decided to stop his whining just before the elevator doors came to a close.

“See you tomorrow, Nana.”

You grinned, not missing the way his eyes lit up in between the small gap. You really did miss him, and you were lucky enough to have him as a small memory to remind you that this place was indeed home.

Maybe it wasn’t just Jaemin that you had missed. The entire family was just a smack in the face of early childhood nostalgia that you nearly cried (thank god you didn’t) when Mrs. Na buried you into a bone crushing hug the moment she saw you when you opened the door. You were really happy to be back— even when you weren’t exactly sure before.

“Mom, I think you’re suffocating, Y/N,” Jaemin pointed out as he left his shoes in front of your doorstep, walking inside with his father following behind him.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t believe that this is you!” she coddled, and somewhere in between Jaemin found himself beside you. “I think I have pictures of you two when you were younger, hold on—”

Mrs. Na was pushed forward by her husband as she dug through her phone for a decade old Facebook posts of you and Jaemin (you hoped she wouldn’t remember you had an entire album). The older man ruffled your hair as he passed by with a fond smile, disappearing into the dining table where your parents were preparing and leaving you and Jaemin behind.

He was looking at you. Questionably so.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I didn’t get to hug you yesterday.”

Oh my god, you shook your head, grabbing the sleeve of his mint jacket and leading him to where your parents were to help. “You’ll have more opportunities, you loser. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Jaemin was speechless for a moment as he let you drag him along, but a happy smile broke through and he matched your steps halfway.

“Yeah,” he agreed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Dinner followed the usual sequence of events: reminiscing about the past, asking both parties what they have been up to, and of course talks about the future. During the meal, Jaemin asked when your classes were starting (next week), and he proposed his promised tour to be held this Tuesday— two days from now— because he didn’t have a lot of classes that day. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, neither did your parents, so you ended up agreeing.

Unfortunately for you, your mother pulled out the ancient photo album of the past right after dinner, and the stark contrast between yours and Jaemin’s reactions were also album worthy. By the end of it, you were sure that smoke was emitting from your ears because your good friend had an affinity with screaming over how cute you were, even going as far as stealing one of your baby pictures right before they decided to make their leave.

“Ah, ah,” he pulled the photo away the moment he sensed your attempt of theft. You two were standing right in front of the open door, his parents already having left ahead. “I’m keeping this. You look so cute here.”

“How am I so sure you won’t blackmail me with that!”

An offended gasp. “I would never,” he took out his phone, inserting your picture inside his colored phone case with you watching his every move. “It’s for me to see only, so you don’t need to worry.”

You looked at him. Then to the phone that he was holding up with a confident smile. You let out a sigh.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly relented, and he waddled over to you with a big smile on his face to envelop you into a hug. He smells nice, you thought, reciprocating the embrace. Wait, isn’t this my perfume? That would explain what he was doing inside your room earlier. You could only sigh inwardly let him keep on hugging you. He was whining about it earlier, after all.

It lasted long, maybe a bit too long because his dad came back to fetch him.

“Mhm, you can trust me with anything, Y/N,” Jaemin mumbled before finally pulling away, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he did. “Anyway, before I go— should we exchange phone numbers?”

Tuesday came by, and you were met with two realizations. Both of which made you feel very very small in comparison.

One, NCT U was really freaking big.

Two, Na Jaemin was really freaking popular.

Granted, he had only shown you around the STEM department, but with every turn that you took and every hallway that you passed through, there was least one person that stopped by to say hi to him. Even some of the teachers were close with him. You should have expected it considering he was literally nice, smart, handsome, and everything you could ever ask for, but it still made him feel just a tiny bit out of reach.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked, breaking away from a conversation with a senior. He put a hand over your shoulder with concern that reflected in his eyes. “We can take a break around the benches if you want.”

“Yeah, sure. After you—”

“I’ll talk to you later, hyung. See you around.”

Jaemin waved off his older friend, Yuta, you had overheard, and proceeded to lead you to the aforementioned area on the ground floor before stopping by a vending machine to get some drinks. You pressed your lips together, feet shuffling as you waited behind him, and then you finally decided to speak. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, slotting in a few coins into the machine.

“You— you with your friend,” you fumbled, trying your best to speak your mind, but how were you supposed to say ‘cut your conversation short with your friend because of me’ without seeming like a total headass? You could have waited until they were finished.

With a soft smile, he passed a canned, carbonated drink into your hands— lemon, you read— and took one for himself. He didn’t answer your incomprehensible question and decided to walk across the field leading to a bench area, but you were sure he got what you were trying to say. He simply chose not to answer. Or did he? Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Annoyed, you decided to gulp down the drink in one go to distract yourself, even when the bubbles stung your throat. Jaemin stared at you in horror.

“Were you that thirsty? You should have told—”

“Na Jaemin!”

In sync, your heads snapped towards the direction of the ear-ripping screech, which was quite coincidentally where you two were headed. There were two boys sitting on a bench, one more on the table with a guitar. You assumed that it was one of them that screamed out your friend’s name— probably the one that was making eye contact with him before dramatically turning away with a butchered sob.

“Na Jaemin! Traitor of the brotherhood! I remember when he would still come running the moment I call his name but now— forgotten for dust! He doesn’t care about us anymore, Renjun. He even has a new—”

“What are you on about this time, Haechan?”

Haechan’s evidently fake sobbing stopped, pushing away the boy that he had just been crying into moments prior. “Oh you’re here,” he deadpanned.

It was almost horrific how three pairs of eyes immediately zeroed in on you as you meekly hid behind Jaemin, causing the hairs at the back of your neck to stand as if you were about to die in a fucking horror movie. You could tell from that alone that despite having many friends, these guys were probably his closest— whether it was better or worse, you had no idea. All of a sudden you were dawned with the intimidating task of trying to get them to like you, which was already way too out of reach because the one with the guitar was practically ripping you to shreds with his eyes alone.

“Please stop trying to scare, Y/N. Jeno, you might actually make her cry, stop that.”

“Whoops,” Jeno stopped his death staring. “Hyuck initiated it.”

“Actually it was Renjun, but whatever,” before Renjun could even bite back after being falsely accused, Haechan had already blocked him off and had directed his attention towards you, legs crossed and a critical gaze. “Fuck formalities. Y/N, right? Who are you and why are you trying to steal—”

“Alright, no more scare tactics. Y/N, there are my friends, Jeno, Haechan— or Donghyuck, whichever you prefer, he doesn’t mind— and Renjun. They’re just trying to mess with you, don’t worry. Friends, this Y/N L/N, my childhood friend for like four, five years before she left Korea and moved to LA.”

The term childhood friend lit a spark within the three boys, but before they could do or say anything dangerous that would jeopardize your relationship, Jaemin the ever popular boy was called out by a group of girls. He excused himself to leave for a moment, but not before apologizing to you a million times over (“If you’re really sorry,” Renjun chided before he ran off. “Treat us and Miss Y/N to Kun’s, yeah?”). He agreed without even hearing him properly, and now you were left with his three friends that felt more like three sharks that circled around you. They were fucking out for blood.

“So,” the moment Jaemin disappeared from the parameter, Haechan pulled you to the bench in between him and Renjun with a devilish grin. “Childhood friend, huh?”

Your eyes snapped over to Renjun who was on your right to ask for a way out of this, but the guy was busy filming the entire thing on his phone. Why did Jaemin leave you behind? You had no chance of escaping. Haechan locked you down by swinging his arm around your neck just as you were about to stand. He signalled at his friend who was sitting on the table. “Jeno, drop the beat.”

There was a moment of miscommunication in between because instead of dropping the beat like Haechan asked, Jeno started strumming a sickeningly sweet tune on his guitar. Or maybe that was what he intended. Either way, Haechan was flexible enough to go along with it.

“You know what they say about childhood friends,” another strum. Haechan sang. Was this a fucking oration? “You either end up forgetting each other, hating each other, or you end up toge—”

“That is not—”

“Hush!” he silenced. Renjun was losing it at the side. So was Jeno, because the guitar tune was long replaced by fits of strangled laughter. “It is, clueless Y/N. It is. How many childhood friends have you met that stayed as childhood friends? None, I assume. I’m never wrong, you see.”

“Weren’t you and Mark childhood friends, too—”

“Shut the fuck up, Huang. This isn’t about me. Y/N, listen.”

Grabbing your shoulders, Haechan pulled you away from Renjun, the sudden movement nearly giving you a whiplash.

“From my expert calculations, you and Jaemin are undeniably going down route three, but the both of you are moving at an agonizingly slow pace, correct?” you stared at him, wide eyed, and he was staring right back. “Correct! Now, in order to speed things up a bit, all you have to do is follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your Childhood Friend Into—”

“Isn’t this the same guide that ruined your—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The two ended up quarrelling and you ended up being forgotten. You weren’t sure whether to be thankful or be offended. Jeno shot you a look of remorse on behalf of his friends, bringing you to the conclusion that this must have been a normal occurrence. Your eyes shot towards the sky, clouds covering the sun just enough so you wouldn’t be blinded, ears picking up the argument occuring that went back and forth on both of your sides. They’re a lively bunch, you breathed out, a subtle smile on your face.

Eventually Jaemin showed his face again, jogging over to your group and you greeted him with a beaming grin. “You guys seem to be getting along,” he said the moment he stopped before you.

“Oh, Romeo returns,” Renjun decided to stop picking a fight with Haechan. “Where’d you get dragged off to this time?”

There was silence, all four sets of eyes heavily sparked with curiosity as you waited for Jaemin’s response, but the boy was rather hesitant. “Well—” he fumbled, a faint baby pink blush powdering his cheeks. Sheepish, he continued. “Someone confessed to me.”

The first person that reacted was Jeno, who released a loud snort and scooted a little more forward. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” Jaemin indignantly refuted as he continued to be teased by the other two boys, the remaining uncharacteristically not joining in. At that very moment you could feel Haechan looking at you, a gaze that you couldn’t quite put a finger on but it was enough to shoot him a glare back.

“Who was it? Is she pretty?” you chose to ignore the annoying male beside you and decide to focus all of your interest and attention on Jaemin instead.

“Jiah,” he mindlessly answered, pushing Haechan to the side so he could sit next to you. “From nursing? I think?”

“Dude,” you turned your head to Renjun. “Kang Jiah? Holy shit, that’s crazy.”

Noticing the lost look in your eyes, Renjun proceeded to explain that not only was the alluded Kang Jiah arguably the prettiest in her department, she was at the top of her class too. You didn’t understand which part about that was crazy because for you, that was exactly the kind of person that Jaemin was destined to end up with. You wouldn’t be surprised if they do become a thing— well, there was only one way to find the answer to that.

“Well, what did you say? You said yes right?” you asked him, looking forward to his answer.

“Oh,” he shrugged. “I turned her down.”

What?

“Of course,” Renjun scoffed, shaking head with his arms crossed. “Only you would turn someone like Jiah down. At this rate you’ll end up dying an old hermit.”

“You have a crush on her or something?”

“Pff— no? I just think she’s pretty,”

“You’re not fooling anyone, dumbass. Come over here, I’m gonna squeeze it out of you—”

While the two quarrelled again in the middle of the field with Jeno being the one filming this time, you remained frozen in your seat, somewhat surprised. Huh, you blinked, wanting to ask him why he turned her down but frankly it was none of your business. You turned your head to face him. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to turn into such a heartbreaker, Jaems.”

He clicked his tongue, face scrunched into a bitter look of disapproval as reached out to mess up your hair. “Stop thinking weird thoughts,” he scolded. “Instead, why don’t I finally take you to the art building?”

Your eyes immediately lit up after the mention, and he stifled a laugh at your reaction, patting your head once more before sneaking off without the other three’s knowledge.

Jaemin’s tour of the whole campus actually deemed to be pretty useful because after three whole weeks of going to NCT U, you’d only gotten lost seven times— pretty remarkable if you do say so yourself. Within those three weeks, you had actually expected that your old childhood friend would leave you off on your own once you got used to everything, but no. He tried his best to meet you in between classes even though your buildings were nowhere near each other, and the times when he couldn’t, he’d never failed to call or text you. “I promised your parents!” he reasoned, but you weren’t sure if that promise included asking you if you’ve eaten breakfast every morning.

“Breakfast?”

You repeated into the phone as you and your recently made friend Soorim walked to your Visual Studies class. You’d met her during your first week and the both of you immediately hit off. It was nice to have someone else other than Jaemin and his friends, but of course you appreciated their company, too.

“I, uh, actually haven’t eaten— no wait! Before you nag me, I have a valid excuse, okay!” Soorim gave you a sidelong glance, curious and suspicious over your loud phone call so she tried to lean her ear closer to the device but you quickly evaded without even looking at her. “Listen, I was in a hurry to school! I actually planned on grabbing a bite on the way but I… forgot my wallet because again, I was in a hurry and— no, shut up, you don’t have the right to scold me for this, too! You literally left your report at home yesterday and I had to walk all the way back to save your butt so you’re no better, Mr. Na.”

Without even realizing, you were already in front of the doors to your classroom, and so you hurried a goodbye to Jaemin just before you and Soorim took your seats at the near back.

“Alright, I’m in the classroom now. See you later. Yes, I’ll eat after, yes, I promise to double check my wallet from now on. Bye.”

The moment you settled on your seat, setting your phone and backpack aside, Soorim swiveled her chair to face you, legs crossed, hands resting with poise on her thigh, and she batted her eyelashes expectantly. You ignored her, twisting open your water bottle because it was the only thing you had that could somewhat silence your crying stomach.

“So,” she started anyway. The bottle opening was hovering over your lips. You narrowed your eyes at her. What the fuck was she doing. “When are you introducing me to your boyfriend?”

You choked while drinking.

“Boy— what,” with a grimace, you ripped away the bottle from your face, slamming it down on the table. You looked at your friend in disgust. “If I had one I wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

Soorim rolled her eyes, sneering at you. She held up her hand to the side of her face, all fingers closed except for her pinky and her thumb, shaking it a little. You sighed.

“He’s a friend.”

“The same friend that kept on calling you during our night out because he was worried?”

“Yes, well,” your sweat dropped. “He’s just like that, you know?”

“Sure,” she scrunched her nose, haphazardly throwing her giant notebook on the table. There was a brief moment of quiet that overtook because Soorim decided to stop egging on you as you waited for your professor, but that quiet only lasted for a while. She nudged you, and you looked up from your desk. “Oh, look who's coming.”

Huang Renjun sauntered in with an expression not fitting for a “good morning” greeting, so you chose to remain silent and simply stare at him in judgment as he settled right before you and Soorim, plastic bag in hand and binder in the other. What shat in his coffee this early in the morning?

“This is all your fault,” with a grunt, he dropped the bag filled with all sorts of food and snacks right in front of you, immediately pulling out a chair and sitting his ass onto it after. “My plans of turning up late are ruined because of you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, picking out a small container of strawberry milk from the bunch. How was this your fault? Furthermore, what exactly was all of this?

“Ooh, you making moves on Y/N, Huang?” Soorim, on the other hand, was digging into the rest of the goods, stealing a bun filled with red bean paste with a happy smile.

“Ew, as if.”

Renjun fake gagged, earning a look of offense from you which he completely ignored and disregarded. He took a box of pepero from the pile, shooting you a smug look before adding.

“It’s from Nana.”

(“You’re at school already? It’s very early. You’ve eaten breakfast, right?”

At a convenience store nearby the school, Jaemin and Renjun decided to eat their first meal there. Though, it appeared that the latter was the only one doing all the eating because his friend seemed to be far too preoccupied with his conversation on the phone to even notice that he took some of his sushi right in front of his face. Renjun silently chewed as he watched the colors on his friend’s face change at each sentence.

“Aish, it’s the most important meal of the day for a reason. How many times do I have to tell you—”

Another piece of sushi stolen. He wondered how far he could get away with it.

“Y/N, I—”

Jaemin let out a long sigh, causing Renjun to drop the food back onto the plate, retracting his chopsticks back to his own food— a bowl of ramen noodles that he had still yet to finish. He discreetly slurped it down as if he hadn’t been stealing since earlier. He was sure that Jaemin noticed though, but knowing his friend, he probably just let him. Renjun noticed the small pout on Jaemin, eliciting his curiosity.

“Okay,” he’s whining, Renjun concluded. “See you later.”

The moment Jaemin shut off his phone, Renjun expected him to say something, to air out why the fuck he was being all that this early in the morning, maybe even tell him what the call was about like a friend would, but no. Instead, Jaemin promptly stood up from his seat, disappeared into the limited selection of isles in the store, basket in hand, and started throwing a mountain full of food with a scrunched out, concentrated expression. Renjun had his mouth hanging open, brows knitted together, and wondering what in the ever loving fuck was going on with his friend as he stared at him pay for everything at the counter.

He sat back, eyeing Jaemin as he returned in front of him, who placed the full bag on top of the table as he took a seat.

“The hell?” a particular carton caught Renjun’s eye, and he immediately fished for it in primal disbelief. “Strawberry milk? You literally hate strawberries and milk separately yet you’re buying them combined? Are you sick?”

Jaemin did not answer. In fact, he dismissed the question completely with a smile, deciding to ask one of his own.

“It’s almost time for your first class, right? Visual Studies?”

At that point it hit him— the call, the food, the stupid behavior of his friend. It was completely obvious.

“Oh,” Renjun dropped the drink back onto the table. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking whipped.”)

“Shut up.”

After hearing Renjun’s story, you couldn’t look at all the multicolored snacks laid in front of you without heating up a million degrees anymore. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re just messing with me, shut up.”

Renjun scoffed. “Why would I even make up something so stupid? C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way better than that.”

You couldn’t argue that this wasn’t something Jaemin would do. No, because this was exactly something sickly sweet Jaemin would do and your sad attempt of denial was simply because your heart might actually run away if you admit it to yourself. And as if to give you more assurance or to fluster you even further, your phone vibrated, causing you to jump in your seat. Before either of the two’s nosiness could take a peek, you quickly snatched your phone, leaning your chair all the way back to read the message.

[<nana3: never skip breakfast okok?!? u don’t have your wallet right? wait for me in front of the bio building later. let’s eat lunch together 🥰💚]

Dear lord Jesus, have mercy on your soul. Renjun took your squeak as a sign of victory.

“Wait a minute,” Soorim looked at you wide in a sudden moment of epiphany. “Nana as in Na Jaemin? The fucking Na Jaemin? Is he the friend you’ve been mentioning? The guy you were calling and bought all this? Holy fuck, Y/N—!”

Your body moved before you could think and you thanked god that your professor wasn’t here yet because you would have caught the entire class’ attention when you leaped forward to slap your hands over Soorim’s mouth.

Renjun’s excessive giggling brought you back to reality, pulling your hands off of her with a gasp and an apology. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, it felt like you were about to say something stupid!”

She gave a look, half done and half amazed at your willpower. You’d never been this fired up for anything. “Is it stupid to say that one of the hottest guys on campus is literally—”

“Stupid!” another slap on her mouth. Renjun was about to fall off his chair laughing. “You were going to say something stupid. Please don’t even think about finishing that.”

Lucky for you, your professor had finally come in. Unlucky for you, Soorim shot you the signature dirty stare which meant that you wouldn’t be let off that easily. How fun.

Class went on quiet and boring as usual— you’d never been one for technicalities, preferring heading straight into the creative process with nothing but inspiration coursing through your veins, so your professor’s voice was nothing but white noise running in the background as you busied yourself with your thoughts. Your eyes flickered to the floor, cheek resting on your palm, and you gazed down to the plastic back beside your backpack. Twirling your pencil between your fingers, you pulled out a scrap piece of paper, every move that you made triggered by nothing except the abstract flow of your mind.

There was only one person you were thinking of. The same person living inside your head the moment you stepped foot back into Korea, the same person that made you feel as if you were someone special out of all the eight billion people in the world, the same person that bought you three persons worth of food because he didn’t want you skipping breakfast, the same person that felt more like a dream than anything.

Mindlessly, you started sketching the face of your childhood friend, filling in all the details of his face that you could see whenever you closed your eyes, up until the bell rang that signalled the end of the class.

“Y/N! Your father and I are leaving, now!”

“There’s extra money on top of the fridge if you want to eat out.”

Saturday evening. Your parents decided to go out on a well-deserved date that night, leaving you alone inside your apartment. You saw them out the door, locking it up once they left, and as you pressed your back against the white washed wooden door, your eyes darted over to the clock hanging on your living room wall. Six-twenty-three. There were still a few hours until closing.

An art exhibition was to be held on the same evening, and this was the last day that the actual artist was going to be there. Free and you got to meet world renowned artist Ten Lee? You’d be insane not to go. Though, as you made your way into your room to change out of your raggedy old sweatpants and Jaemin’s (stolen) mint hoodie, you’d come to a realization that maybe the venue was too far for you to just walk. Your parents were using the car and it wasn’t like you could drive anyway. You could commute, but there was a better idea in your system.

Opening your phone, a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pressed the contact number that seemed to have never left your recents.

[you: nana! are you free rn? there’s an art exhibition out of town! i need a ride :p and you need some time off your studies too bcs i noticed youve been more tired than usual so good idea i think yes hehe]

As usual, he took no more than a minute to reply. But after lighting up when you saw his name flash on your screen, you bit down your bottom lip to prevent a frown from forming.

[<nana3: TT i’m attending a seminar for an org rn y/nie huhu i don’t know what time it’s ending so i’m not sure if i can make it 😫😭]

[you: it’s okay!! jhfdj sorry for disturbing u!! please listen well to the speaker hehe and tell me how it went]

[<nana3: i’m so sorry]

It was difficult to pinpoint how you exactly felt.

You chewed the inside of your mouth, staring at the phone screen. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

After shutting your closet door down to a close, you fell face down onto your bed, your phone thrown over to the side. Yes, you were disappointed, but it wasn’t what weighed you down; the actual reason feeling like a disgusting, throbbing feeling writhing underneath your skin after being suppressed for awhile now. It never left your system the moment you'd arrived, the moment he showed you what his life was like, making you realize the stark difference between you and him.

You couldn’t care less about the exhibition now. In fact, fuck that entire plan entirely. As you were loitering, fooling around, planning on going to pointless events that wouldn’t be of benefit to your future, Jaemin was there, making connections and decisions and taking a step further into life.

It made you wonder what exactly had you been doing these past seven years— what haven’t you been doing, what you should be doing. You were ashamed to admit it, but it plagued the back of your mind since you got here.

Jaemin was far too out of reach.

It made the wrench in your gut worse whenever he made an effort to not make you feel that way. He’d always include you whenever he’d be with his other friends, always made sure that you didn’t feel left out since you came here, whether it be by his little cute texts even though you were in the same room just to make you smile, or by giving you all of his attention despite the many people vying for his. God, you didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve to like him.

What did you deserve?

Just then, there was a knock on your front door, followed by a buzz from your phone.

[<nana3: open the door!]

And you did, scrambling out of your bed and nearly tripping over your feet as you ran just to swing it open. Jaemin stood before you with his hair tousled by the wind, a purple and orange varsity jacket covering his frame. He greeted you with brightened eyes.

“I thought you had—”

“I left early,” he smiled at you, walking inside. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Hurry, I’ll wait here.”

You blinked at him as he passed you by to sit on your couch, unable to understand what led him to such a decision, staring as he stretched his arms over his head with a yaw. He shouldn’t have come here. “Jaemin, it’s just an exhibition, it’s not as important as your seminar.”

He raised a brow at you, stealing a pillow into his lap. “But you want to go, right?”

“Well…” you did want to go, even after your small episode earlier. “Yeah, but—”

“Then it’s more important.”

He smiled at you. You cursed at yourself for letting your heart dither.

“Besides, you actually think I’d let you go out alone this late at night?” Jaemin stood up from the sofa, resting his hand on top of your head with an affectionate gaze. “You should go change. Or maybe not. You look good in my clothes, anyway.”

It was cold outside, so Jaemin made sure that you were wearing enough layers so that you won’t get sick, forcing you back inside when he deemed that you weren’t covered enough.

“Jaem, I’m fucking sweating.”

You huffed as you lugged yourself to the front seat, but your padded winter coat was preventing you from making a smooth landing inside.

“Sweating is a good sign! That means you’re healthy,” noticing your struggle, Jaemin relented to leaving the coat at the back of the car, but keeping it there just in case. He got in after you, starting the car and turning on the radio for some background noise. “Reconnaissance Gallery Right? What’s the name of the show?”

“Mono,” you replied. “It’s by Ten Lee.”

“Oh! I remember you talking about him once,” he exclaimed. “We should hurry then.”

It was a generally quiet car ride, but the silence was welcomed. After asking where you wanted to eat dinner once you were done with the exhibit, Jaemin didn’t talk anymore. Your eyes followed the moving lights that were lit up all around the night scene, and from time to time they flickered over to admire the boy beside you who seemed to be far too engrossed with his driving. An unconscious smile grew, warmth fluttering inside. You were lucky enough to meet him again in this lifetime, even after being set apart for so long.

“Something wrong?”

He asked without looking. He must have noticed you staring.

“No,” you replied with a soft voice. “Just remembered how baby-faced you were back then.”

With a laugh, he shook his head, one hand stretched out to the steering wheel. “You’re one to talk. Alright, I think we’re here.”

You felt a rush the moment you went past the glass doors, met by a relatively large interior with walls painted either black or white and lined with numerous paintings that contrasted the wall they were hung on. With a large grin, you quickly tugged Jaemin’s arm deeper into the venue, your footsteps making hollow echoes inside the place. He was taken aback by your sudden action, heart racing when he felt your grip on him, never slowing down even when you stopped in front of one of the larger works in the exhibit. “Oh my gosh, I love this painting— wait let me take a picture.”

As you fumbled with your phone, Jaemin couldn’t help but stare at you as if you were a part of the exhibit itself. There were more people inside, yet he didn’t even notice them; paintings as pretty as the night sky, yet it was you that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Your phone camera captured it with an audible click, and he took it as a signal to scramble and take his out too.

Click!

“The painting’s really pretty, right?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah,” it wasn’t the painting that he wanted to capture. He dug his phone back into his pocket after sneaking a brief glance at your excited grin behind the screen. It wasn’t every day that you smiled like this since you were usually reserved. He didn’t want to miss saving a memory. “You wanna walk around more?”

At his suggestion, you and Jaemin decided to move deeper into the exhibit. You knew he wasn’t that knowledgeable about art, but he still listened intently whenever you told him something about the strokes and composition of some of the works displayed. You hadn’t run into Ten Lee yet even after an hour of walking around and taking pictures, but you didn’t mind at all. Jaemin froze in front of a certain painting— the visage of what seemed to be a face formed together by different objects, drawn in a style similar to the rest with the black and white motif, graffiti-esque structure, and the overall whimsical and abstract feel to it. There was a smile on his face, you wondered what he was thinking about.

“One day, it’s gonna be your paintings that will be displayed here. You promise you won’t forget about me when that happens, okay?" he started, turning his attention to you. “You should also paint a portrait dedicated to me," he joked, nudging you a little.

You smiled at him. Jaemin noticed that this wasn’t your usual smile, but he chose to not say anything. “Okay,” you breathed out before looking down seconds before he could see your expression melt away. How was he thinking so highly of you when it was him who was too far to reach?

He was about to ask— he didn’t know what to ask— but he would say whatever just to erase whatever was bothering your peace of mind. But he wasn’t able to. In fact, just as he lifted a hand to rest over your shoulder as an act of comfort, your head shot up, turning to face the sudden eruption of a commotion that Jaemin had failed to notice in his worry for you.

“Holy crap,” you gasped. “Is that—”

Ten Lee, just a few feet away from you with cameras and crowd surrounding him. You wasted no time to run to him, grabbing Jaemin’s hand in a flash to drag him behind. His eyes softened upon seeing the excited bounce of your hair as you ran. At least your spirits were brought back up again.

Jaemin watched as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your jacket as you waited for an opening to talk to the famous artist, how you would stand on your toes to peek above the small crowd and stand back down again after feeling too shy. Eventually the crowd dissipated to only around four or five people. This was your chance. You looked at him Jaemin. He nudged you with his shoulder. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. You pressed your lips together before finally deciding to march up to the artist. He didn’t realize you have been holding his hands until you let go.

“A-ah, hi!”

He followed after you in case you were feeling too nervous, but he was relieved to see that Ten Lee was pretty down to earth and easy going for someone famous. He stayed a few steps behind you as he listened to the ongoing conversation.

“I can’t tell you enough how much I adore your works. Especially, Monarch! I took a picture of it earlier and it’s so much more captivating in person,” you said, watching as Ten signed your phone case. “Actually, I—I look up to you a lot as an artist. A few of my paintings were actually inspired by your style, but of course it— it would be an insult to compare.”

“You shouldn’t compare,” he scolded, adding in a little sermon about your art is yours and that it should stand alone as your own. He handed your phone back, a smile on his face. “Can I see?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. In a flustered rush, you quickly scrolled through your gallery folders to find the specific paintings you were referring to, and Jaemin, out of curiosity, hovered over your shoulders to see as well. As you passed through your works with your friend’s mouth hanging open in awe (he wanted to gush about them, but figured this wasn’t formally appropriate), his eyes caught a glimpse of an image that you quickly swiped past— far too glaring too miss because he was sure that it looked something like his face. It was a different kind of pride that he felt when he saw that.

Ten’s eyes flickered as he saw through your paintings, something formulating within even after you hid your phone. He looked at you, grabbing your hands without any warning which caused you to squeak. “Y/N, right?” you nodded, wide eyed. “You know, I’m hosting an online gallery within the upcoming weeks. It’s for young, aspiring artists like you to be recognized at a larger scale.”

Hold on, you tried to catch on to what he was saying. Was he—

“Are you interested?”

—serious? Was he actually serious? It looked like he was because when he let go of you, a business card suddenly materialized in your hands. Holy shit.

“Think about it, okay? Just email me your portfolio and everything. Who knows, what if you get recognized and scouted after this?”

He winked at you, shooting you a thumbs up. This had to be a dream. You were still trying to process the piece of fucking paper that you were holding and now all of a sudden Ten came in between you and Jaemin, swinging his arms around your neck and giving you a pat on the back

“Anyhow, thanks to the both of you for coming to my show. And Y/N—” he looked at you with a grin. “Looking forward to your more of your works.”

Ten disappeared off with two other people, their footsteps clacking against the cold, tiled floor. You stared at the card in your hands for a few moments— Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, it wrote— before snapping your eyes back to Jaemin who was wearing a far too large smile. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wasted no time in drowning you into a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs when he nearly toppled you onto the ground.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft in comparison to the roughness of his actions, sweetly fluttering into your ears as he rocked you left and right with his squeezing embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words nearly broke you down to tears.

“This calls for a celebration, right?” he pulled away, hand automatically falling to hold onto yours as he led you to the gallery’s exit. “My treat! I know a place nearby, we should eat an entire feast!”

“Nana, you already treated me to lunch last time, I can’t just—”

“No, no no! I’m treating you, okay? This is your achievement so I should congratulate properly.”

There was no point arguing with him when he already had his mind set, but even during your drive to a nearby barbecue place, even when you were already halfway with the meal, you kept on insisting that you’d pay him back for all of this someday. He’d only laugh it off, telling you that he doesn’t mind as long as you’re enjoying yourself. You downed a shot of soju after hearing that, hoping that it would make you forget momentarily about how fast your heart was beating.

Somehow the clock eventually struck nine, and rather than going home, the both of you took an impulsive detour to a nearby public beach. The sounds of waves crashing against the solemn quiet of the night was heard as you neared the area, bringing you to a moment of peace.

Instead of going to the sandy shore, you two decided to take a spot on the beach cliff right above the rolling water. “Be careful,” Jaemin whispered from behind as he guided you along the rocky surface, heating up from the way he was so, so close with his hands steady on your back. You two sat side by side on the cliff, underneath the veil of stars, with the ocean right in front of you.

“Are your parents okay with you staying out this late?” he cocked his head to face you in a manner that was far too cute for you to suppress a giggle.

“Jaems, they’d probably allow me to disappear off to Italy as long as you’re with me.”

The both of you broke into laughter, but it was eventually replaced by the noises of the ocean. You breathed in the salty scent of the sea, folding your knees to your chest with your arms hugging them together. For a moment your eyes flickered over to Jaemin, and a chord was strung, tugging your heart towards him, but it was impossible for it to leap out of your chest so it only rattled against your ribcage desperately just like the waves. You stared at the way his dark hair melted into the night sky, the wind brushing it away, the way he had his legs stretched out freely over the rocks while you squeezed yourself as small as you could get, and lastly, the way he flashed over to look at the exact moment that you wanted him to.

If there was such a thing as a perfect instance where the stars of the night sky aligned, it would be this.

“You know,” you started, letting your arms fall to your sides as you looked over to the distance. “I envy you sometimes.”

Jaemin was taken aback by your confession.

“I also admire you,” you pressed your lips together tightly, forming it into a smile. “A lot. I admire you a lot. To the point that it made me feel like you’re living in a completely different world from me and that I wasn’t deserving of you.”

You’d finally mustered up the courage to tell him everything you’d pent up during your first month back here— it was better than just letting it fester into something worse, even if there was a risk of completely ruining your friendship. It was better than playing pretend.

“We’re both only a year apart but it seems like you have your life all tied together while I’m still barely able to walk on my own two feet. I wouldn’t even have been able to go to the exhibit if it weren’t for you,” you crossed your legs, a mirthless laugh slipping past your lips as the wind brushed against your cheeks .“I don’t… want to seem ungrateful for everything you’ve done or make you feel bad or anything, because Jaemin—”

You turned around, looking at him.

“If I had the choice to stay back then, I would have gladly chosen to spend those seven years together with you.”

Jaemin stared at you, speechless, unblinking. He had a gut feeling that there was something bothering you all this time, but he never had thought that it would be this.

“But the feeling of seeing you again after all this time is a feeling that I wouldn’t trade for the world either,” you hummed, looking down as you traced the creases of the rocky ground with your fingers, a shaky breath slipping past you. “If only… I wasn’t just so insecure then maybe everything would be perfect.”

For a moment there was nothing— only the lulling sounds of the sea that became quieter after you laid your heart out to the ground. The next moment, Jaemin spoke up.

“I got into an accident four years ago.”

You shot up in a single instant.

Jaemin laughed a little, bringing his hand to the crown of your head in assurance. “I had a herniated disc which got worse during a dance camp. It was definitely scary, how it seemed like I was in a standstill for two years while everyone else carried on with their lives,” he continued, letting his hand drop once more right beside yours. “It’s hard to get out of that hopeless mentality. It takes small steps, but once you do, things will eventually start looking up.”

He shot you a smile, eyes twinkling under the light of the moon. You couldn’t help but put your head down after hearing everything.

“I understand how and why you’re feeling that way, don’t worry I’m not upset. You don’t think I am, right?” he caught you sniffling, leaning forward to take a look at your face but you kept on turning away. “Y/N— Y/N, look at me, okay? I’ll be your personal cheerleader from now on, yeah? Up until you realize that you’re actually greater than you think you are.”

He was too good to you.

“I’m— I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you were having a tough time.”

You silently muttered, meekly sneaking a glance at him to see that he was actually smiling at you this entire time. He’d always been like this.

“It’s alright, you didn’t have a choice, right?” he assured. “And I’m all better now, as you can see. I can even jump off the cliff into the ocean without having a single scratch!”

Right, you managed a laugh from his silly proclamation. He lit up upon hearing you. Maybe you can try to be like that too.

“What’s important is that from now on.”

There had been a gap between the two of you that entire time, but Jaemin bridged it the moment his hand brushed against your skin, his pinky interlocking with yours against the coarse ground. You met his eyes. He shot you a smile. That same smile that you could never get enough of.

“You’ll be with me.”

“Jaemin, please put your shirt back on.”

When you walked back into the living room, easel and canvas in your arms, you did not expect to be met with your childhood friend-slash-boyfriend mid-strip. In fact you were far too in shock that you dropped everything to the floor at that exact moment, only managing to utter those previous words once you were busy picking them all back up and not looking at him. He quickly ran to help you.

“Oh, I thought this was—” he passed you a paintbrush, helping you stand back up once you’ve gotten everything. “Aren’t the models for your classes usually, like, naked?”

“You think I was gonna paint you nude?!”

“Well,” he mused, holding his shirt to his bare chest. “If you want— okay, sorry! Shirt on! Shirt on!”

You settled down the easel that you just threatened to launch at him near the window where the afternoon sunlight was leaking through. A few days prior, you had contacted Ten Lee regarding the online exhibit, asking when the deadline was because you wanted to include one more piece in your portfolio.

“Nana, can you sit over here?”

There was a stool situated a few feet in front of the easel and right beside the window. He did as you said, now fully dressed and sitting properly and well behaved. You marched up to him, moving around his limbs into a specific pose. Jaemin wore a subtle smile as you grabbed his arms to a certain position, his shoulders into a certain angle, and when your fingers landed on his jaw to adjust his head, he just couldn’t help but throw all your work out the window by pulling you towards him by the waist.

“What are you—” a kiss fell on your nose. Jaemin shot you a cheeky smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

You weren’t inclined to do anything else but forgive him, even if it meant refixing him into position, but somehow you managed. Running back behind the easel, you wore a satisfied smile upon seeing the composition, flicking your wrist to start the initial sketch. There was music running in the background. Jaemin sat still for thirty whole minutes.

“Can I move for a sec?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “I got the basic shapes down anyway.”

He let out an amazed gasp, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. “So cool,” he said, and you let out a little laugh.

You were trying to focus, but in between a few strokes of your pencil, he wiggled his eyebrows when you looked at him again. You threw your head down to suppress a barrage of giggles. “Okay, this is— this is going nowhere. Can I just take a picture of you?”

Even taking a shot of him was difficult because he just wouldn’t sit still. He’d always do something to make you laugh or smile just when you were about to take a picture. You scolded him, telling him that all you needed was a few takes then the both of you can make a run for some popsicles at the nearby store. He straightened upon hearing, and you finally got to do the job.

“Do you have a title in mind for the piece?” he asked, just as you finished taking the last photo of his face up close.

You did have one. In fact, you’ve had it in mind for a while now.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling. “Mahiwaga.”

Haechan, for whatever suspicious reason, volunteered to treat you out to lunch today at a family restaurant near the uni. You did not know why, and he would not tell you why, but you could not pass up free food. You texted Soorim to follow just in case you needed mental support because as you sat across him, looking up from your phone while munching your fries to catch the terrifying stare he was giving you, you could tell that you needed at least one other person around.

[you: dude, i think hes actually planning on killing me please hurry up]

[soorim: omw babe]

[soorim: but ur paying for me right]

You sighed, telling her yes you already ordered her food, and she replied with an annoying heart that you refused to mark read. Just as you were about to shut off your phone, ready to hear whatever Haechan was brewing, another message was sent your way.

[<nana3: baby, i saw the exhibition!! 🤩 you know, you’re so amazing, you know?!?! nana is super super proud of you 🥺💚 and i’m sure your parents are, too!! i sent the link to all of my friends yesterday hehe. also i’ll call you immediately after my class, ok?? don’t forget to drink lots of water today 😚 byebye! 💚]

“Are you two fucking yet?”

Haechan’s question caused you to choke on your fries, dropping your phone to the table so you can reach for the glass of Sprite. You looked at him, appalled. “I’m sorry?”

“What are we talking about?”

Soorim had belatedly joined in the party, pushing you farther into the seat to make room for herself. Her eyes zeroed in on the table, choosing the giant burger to attack first. You scrunched your nose as you looked at her.

“We—”

“Whether Y/N and Jaemin have done the dirty yet,” Haechan interrupted. You looked at him in offense and horror. He reciprocated with a deadpan stare. “You have, haven’t you? I went to Jaemin’s house at four in the morning yesterday and—”

“Why were you at his house at four?!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You looked at him in disbelief, scoffing, and you looked over to Soorim with the words ‘can you believe this guy?’ ready to fire from your tongue. You could not say it. Not when Soorim looked absolutely compelled by Haechan’s bullshit allegations. She even stopped scarfing down her food. You made a mistake in calling her up here.

“What matters is that he looked absolutely fucked out absolutely naked, but not only that!” a scrunchie. He pulled out a scrunchie from his backpack. That was yours. Even had your hair on it. “This is yours isn’t it? I’ve caught you red handed, Y/N, now answer me—”

Haechan’s eyes were out to kill.

“You wrapped it, right? I’m too young to be called Uncle Hyuck so please tell me you did.”

“We are not—”

“That explains why you were walking all weird yesterday!” Soorim exclaimed. “Y/N, you know you could tell me these things, right? There is no—”

“We are not fucking!”

This wasn’t the best conversation to have at a family restaurant.

A waiter stopped serving the table next to you, it’s occupants (that included three kids and their parents) froze and looked at you in horror. An innocent passerby spilled his drink on his tray. You sharply inhaled, bowing your head apologetically. Thank god there weren’t any managers here— the three of you might have actually gotten kicked out.

With a cough, you collected yourself, giving both of your companions the stink eye for putting you in such a compromising position. “Can I not sleep at my boyfriend’s place without— without doing anything of that sort?” you huffed, ignoring the red hot heat creeping up your neck. “And as a matter of fact, I was walking weird because I fell down the while lugging plywood up the stairs, so shut the fuck up.”

The two of them let out a shriek at the same time.

“Boyfriend?! And what— you fell off the fucking stairs?!”

“Did you do as I told you?! Did you follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your—”

“Quiet!”

You shushed the both of them before the three of you actually got kicked out.

“Yes, boyfriend. Yes, I fell off the stairs. No, I did not follow Hyuck’s guide to whatever,” you spitefully took a sip from your drink. “You never even told me what the hell that was.”

As Haechan started to further explain his guide with Soorim enthusiastically taking everything in, you were caught by the buzzing of your phone. The screen lit up. Someone sent you an e-mail— the sender you did not recognize at all. You wiped your fingers with some tissues on the table before taking the device, clicking on the notification immediately after.

“Right. After you tell him that you’re— hey! Y/N, are you even listening?”

You shot up. Haechan noticed the distraught look in your eyes. His brows furrowed together.

“What’s wrong?”

The following weekend, you went out and treated Jaemin to dinner at a fancy Chinese restaurant despite his many complaints. He was about to pay for everything again, but this time you were faster in stealing the check. Afterward, you stopped by a nearby hardware store to buy another two pieces of plywood. You’ve been painting a lot more frequently lately, and you’ve been experimenting more on larger scale works. It was fortunate that Jaemin was there to help you bring the large sheets of wood this time.

“There we go.”

Jaemin settled the wood resting upright against your living room wall, right beside a few stained cans of paint underneath layers of newspaper. You thanked him, smiling, and he ruffled the hair on your head.

“You should ask me whenever you need to do some heavy work alright? We don’t want a rerun of last time,” you cringed upon recalling. That wasn’t a pretty fall. “How are your legs? Have the bruises healed?”

“Almost. You don’t have to worry,” you assured him. He sighed in relief.

Dinner and a shopping trip weren’t the only reasons you called him out tonight. You had actually been meaning to tell him something within the past three days. Your parents knew, Haechan and Soorim found out during lunch last time, Renjun and Jeno might have already found out thanks to their loudmouthed friend. All that’s left was Jaemin. It was his reaction that would help you make the decision.

But why was it so difficult to start talking?

“I’m gonna head out now,” he hummed, pulling you into his chest. You bit down your lip, contemplating, and maybe he noticed your unease and hesitation, as if he could hear your unsaid thoughts, because he lightly pulled away to look at your face and spoke. “What is it? Do you wanna tell me something?”

Of course, you thought to yourself. He’d probably know you’re hungry before your stomach could even rumble.

You gently pried away his hands from your arms, a hollow smile directed to him. Concern flashed through his eyes, but he held back his tongue, waiting for you to say your mind instead.

“Yeah…” you started. “I— I do have something to tell you.”

That was what you said, but as the clock ticked a couple dozen times in the background, you still had yet to tell him. It wasn’t easy to tell him. Because you were afraid that the moment you opened your mouth to squeeze out a single word, you might not make it to finish the entire sentence. If it were him, this might have been easy. But you were not, so it took a little more effort on your part to let the words go.

Maybe you shouldn’t have looked him in the eye, because the moment you did, your eyes stung from the threat of tears and so you jerked your head to the side.

But you weren’t able to evade, because Jaemin decided to follow you. You turned away again, looking towards the unplugged television, but it was once again replaced by Jaemin’s dark brown eyes. Your eyes stung, your lips pressed together, and at that moment you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous actions throwing your head down in the midst of it, but your laughter got choked up by the sudden streaming of tears that you had come unprompted.

Jaemin panicked.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong? What is it?” he ducked down to reach your face, cupping your cheeks with his large hands as you wiped away your tears. “It’s okay, you can tell me, baby. I’ll listen to everything, okay?”

It took you a while to regain your voice, but Jaemin patiently waited with words of consolation. You couldn’t understand how one person could have this much goodwill and kindness in them.

Eventually your sniffling died down, and so you finally willed yourself to speak. “I— I joined Ten’s exhibition, right? And— and there was a possibility that other artists or institutions might be interested in the participants, right?”

“Mhm,” he replied, stroking the back of your head as you tightly gripped the front of his shirt. “Go on.”

“I— I got scouted? You know PIOA? In Paris? They— they offered me a full scholarship if I…” you paused for a moment, biting the inside of your mouth. “If I transfer there for the remaining months until my last year.”

Jaemin took a while to absorb it, silence flooding along with your occasional sniffles.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Ah, ah, baby look at me, look at me,” he grabbed your shoulders, frowning when he made contact with your red stained eyes. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, heart heavy from seeing you like this. It pained him to see you this way. “Why are you crying? Don’t you want to go?”

A beat of silence. You swallowed, speaking in a small, shaky voice.

“Do you want me to go?”

Another beat of silence.

“Of course! Can you imagine that out of all the people that joined that exhibit, they chose you! Your talent and hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Jaemin inhaled sharply in between his speech, managing a smile for you to see. “I’m really proud of you, Y/N. An opportunity like this doesn’t come that easily.”

“Jaemin.”

You softly sounded, letting your head fall into his chest. He held you close, as if you were leaving at that instant.

“You know I was so happy when we got in touch again, when I came back to Korea. I know I don’t have a lot going on for me, but I could easily forget all of that because I’m with you,” once more, you felt the tears start to rise up again, but you tried your hardest to swallow them down. “It hasn’t even been that long since we got reunited and now you’re… you’re just telling me to leave you again miles, miles away as if it’s nothing.”

“It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s hard for me too, you know,” he muttered into your hair with a slight whine, his chin resting over your head. “But it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again, right? We managed for seven years, what’s two or three more?”

When he heard you stifle a laugh, laughing despite your sniveling, he couldn’t help but laugh along too. Once more and perhaps the last that night, he pulled away so he could look at the smile on your face, eyes still red and watery, and he pressed a warm kiss on your forehead.

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. We can visit each other during breaks and—” he breathed out, lips curling into a smile. “I’ll call you every day.”

Right, you wiped away your remaining tears, huffing out a brief, airy chuckle.

You looked at him, hopeful, earnest.

“Every day?”

You asked.

“Every day.”

He answered.

You were never going to get used to airports. They always carried a bitter, cold air that signified a goodbye that you were far too familiar with. Today was no different.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins alright? It’s a new environment so you might need some time to get used to it. Oh! And—”

“Dude, you’re worse than her actual mom.”

Jaemin shot a smile to your mother at the mention, who was waiting for your group to finish from a distance with your father. Your mother was to stay with you in Paris for a week until you got everything settled down while the four boys, Soorim, and your father decided to send you off today. Though, unlike your usual experiences with leaving and returning, today was much louder, more rowdy. It was a nice change— you only wished that it would last longer.

“It’s okay, I appreciate the concern,” you laughed. “Do I have to report back to you everything before I go to bed?”

“Well, if you can,” Jaemin mused, locking his pinky finger with yours and swinging your hand into the air from side to side. “Kidding, kidding. I trust you’ll take care of yourself there.”

A chorus of gagging noises broke out when you pulled his shirt, burying your face into his chest, prompting him to smile and wrap his arms around you. You drowned them out, though, only focusing on how warm he was despite the cold brushing of the wind, how he held you with so much gentleness that one would think he was afraid that he might break you.

It was funny how free you felt when you were trapped inside his embrace.

“How many times do I have to say goodbye to you at the fucking airport?” you grumbled, tears welling up again and so you wiped them away with your sweater sleeve. “Wait, why aren’t you crying. Aren’t you even at the very least sad that I’m gonna leave?”

Jaemin chuckled, replacing your hand with his to brush away the stray tears.

“If I cry in front of you then you probably won’t even board the plane.”

You hated that he was right.

“I’ll do it after you leave,” he let out a laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. At that moment, the pre-boarding announcement rang throughout the area's speakers, signalling that it was time for you and your mother to go. Grabbing your suitcase, you sent a grateful look to each one of them— your father, Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Soorim, and—

Jaemin suddenly grabbed your suitcase handle before you could go, his hand right beside yours. You locked eyes with him, wide and surprised.

He landed a kiss right on your lips.

“Call me when you arrive, okay?”

You mindlessly nodded, still in the midst of recovering from shock. Your mother called out to you to start moving.

As you walked away, head still locked behind, you watched as the four screamed, cheered, and teased your boyfriend as they shook and pushed him around like a ragdoll, while he just kept on looking at you with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll record his crying face!”

Haechan screamed despite being several feet away already, and you stifled out a laugh.

You might have to say goodbye today, but time will come when you would meet again.

Across the cobblestone tiled sidewalk, people were walking about, the streets were filled with tourists and natives, the mid noon sun was just in reach. Summers had always been crowded in the city, and you were swimming in the middle of the crowd in a far too inappropriate attire, sweating as you spoke into the phone.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on my way to the gallery now— I had to stop by at a cafe first, though.”

“You seem busy.”

Jaemin’s voice echoed from your phone’s speakers. The streetlight turned red. You followed the crowd as you crossed the street.

“Yeah… It’s a lot of back and forth work, even on the last day of the show, but it’s all worth it,”you replied. “Did you know that people kept on asking me who my muse was for Mahiwaga? Ever the popular boy, even when you’re not here.”

It has been a year and a half since you first got to France. Things have been going well on your part with your budding art career— and so far you’ve guested in three exhibitions, but you have yet to have one solo. Even though you and Jaemin promised to see each other during breaks, it was practically impossible to align your time. He was busy with internships and his organizations this year and so were you. But one thing the both of you have faithfully maintained throughout the course of your time away was calling each other every day, even if it was just for a few minutes.

A cyclist sped past you. Jaemin’s voice was heard again. He laughed at your last remark, saying that he wasn’t that popular, but all of a sudden his voice turned into a more serious tone.

“Since you have a lot of work these days…”

Your brows furrowed, squinting as the light shone into your eyes. You clutched your sling bag, heels clattering as you passed by the cream, brown, and grey buildings.

“Should we call less often?”

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

“No— no, Jaems, what are you saying? Are you sick? Are you not feeling well?” you were almost late for the opening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. What was he on about? Call less? Never had that crossed your mind even once. “I don’t even get to see you anymore, so if anything… we should call as often as we can.”

A few people passed from behind. His end of the line was silent. Your lips scrunched into a frown, confused.

“Jaemin?”

“That’s a relief.”

Before you could even ask him anything, the call ended.

“What the hell?” you huffed, staring at your phone screen in perplexity before you returned it to your pocket. Maybe he was feeling a lot more lonely than usual— that was unavoidable, but the both of you made it work. You should ask him what that was all about later. Now, you really needed to head to the gallery. With a sigh, you marched forward, stopping at an intersection where the large, eggshell white walls of the gallery stood across.

You stopped before the crosswalk, the lights green, and a few vehicles passed by, and your thoughts were once again clouded by Na Jaemin and why did he suddenly propose that. Was he getting sick of you? Was this his way of hinting a breakup? Your face contorted into a look of horror. No, you shook your head at the notion. He literally sent you a picture of a weird keychain last night saying it reminded him of you. Another sigh. The light went red. You crossed the street.

Maybe it was because you were thinking too much of him, maybe you were missing him too much, but the moment you reached the middle of the crosswalk, your heart suddenly stopped, legs froze, eyes stuck to the sight right in front of you.

There he stood, right before the front stairs of the gallery with dozens of people disappearing and passing by. He spotted you, eyes lighting up, the corners of lips automatically quirking upwards. He sent you a small wave.

You ran.

“Hi— woah!”

Maybe you were causing a scene, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find it in you to care when Na Jaemin was right fucking here. He chuckled when you suddenly ran into him, wrapping you in a tight hug that matched your own. “You know, I was afraid that you’d actually agree to limiting our calls,” he started, and you looked up, the light shining into your eyes. Jaemin’s smile was as bright as the sun. “I thought I would have to deport myself back to Korea.”

Your lips quivered, unable to hold it back. Yeah, you shook your head, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. It’s always been like this.

“Is this where you’re holding the exhibit? Wow, it’s a lot bigger than in pictures.”

There are points in your life where you’re met with a choice— to stay or leave, to smile or cry. Always him between something else. Twice. You’ve said goodbye to him twice choosing to leave. For a moment, it might seem that you’ve chosen the other. But that was never the case, because at the end of each day it was him you were thinking of, it was him that your lines end, it would always be—

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you crying?” he exclaimed, frowning as he wiped away your tears. “Ah, it’s such a happy day today, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I missed you, you dummy.”

—Him. You’d always choose him. Na Jaemin. Jaems. Nana. Your childhood best friend. Your boyfriend—

He smiled at you, eyes shining, pressing a kiss on your forehead before taking you into his arms once more with a shaky breath. “I missed you too.”

—Your mahiwaga.

hannie-dul-set, 2020.

#NCT-WRITERS #czennet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct angst #na jaemin angst #jaemin angst

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realcube · 3 years

Text

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o 😈

characters: yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’ so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:)

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’

so you burst out laughing

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’ fell from his lips

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:((

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’ then he’d fall for you

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night

hence he fell for you even harder

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol 🖕 ‘

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

349 notes · View notes

isolctions · 3 years

Text

...........so let’s finally talk abt what the actual fucking fuck is wrong with ai’rina rue castillo, huh gang? :-)

(everyone go thank @armsdealing & @durcgs beating the anxiety out of me in order to post this info-dump.)

...before we get into things, now’s the part where i establish a warning for triggers to be discussed in this lengthy headcanon post. there’s gonna be some talks of mental illness, slight alcohol abuse, & breaking down topics of familial abuse, mental abuse, religious abuse, emotional manipulation, and elements of non-con. be warned.

a’ight, so look. i’ve hinted in between threads & development that rue had a not-so-fantastic upbringing that impacted how she perceives herself, how she interacts with others, (in terms of her career, at least) and how she views personal relationships, but i didn’t realize how........severely her upbringing messed with her mental health until i started working through how i wanted to plot out rue’s behavior for her next album release. at first, i had the idea that she decided to take more time for herself & sort of distance herself from the public / media circus plaguing her life so that she can create much more authentic music. then i actually listened to the EP that i’m basing her album off of and thought “...oh.” THEN, i looked over old meme responses & old threads / mentions of her family and how she grew up and thought, not for the last time since piecing everything together: “....oh. oh fucking boy.”

so, that horrible realization dawning on me, let’s talk about rue’s childhood.

i wrote a thing like, two years ago almost (that upon looking for last night, i realized i didn’t actually share it w/ anyone but alex in our discord server & only mentioned a portion of it in rue’s moodboard that i made) that talked vaguely about how rue felt growing up. and it’s worth noting that...she’s the middle of ten fucking siblings. and that’s just the brothers & sisters she knew of that stayed with their mother. and on top of that, not all of those siblings are the product of rue’s father, or even rue’s mother for that matter. and it’s also worth noting that rue not only grew up in poverty, but she grew up never having any actual space that had solely been her own, or even an article of clothing that had belonged entirely to her. so naturally, as a young child, rue sort of became torn between starved for attention & wanting someone to pay attention to her (whether that be her older siblings including her in something, whatever teacher they had for the next six months to call on her for something, for her mother to miraculously show up with her unknown father in tow one day, & for literally anyone to be her friend, pls god Notice her!!!) and for people to simply leave her the hell alone. obviously, this carried into adulthood.

and branching off from the whole “lack of space” point i made, rue wound up growing up to become increasingly more private as time went on because she literally cannot remember a single moment where she wasn’t squished between a bunch of people. driving around in their minivan? rue’s packed in the middle of the second row. nowhere to sleep while on the road? rue’s smacked between gigantic older brothers & clingy little siblings. need to use to bathroom? lmao, she better off going outside!!! gotta change clothes? yeah, good luck with that. it was to the point where, when rue got her first period, she was humiliated by it — not because ‘omg, am i a woman now?? wtf is this???’, but because she ruined the one good sheet that she slept on with her sisters & they were super pissed at her and her mother withheld pay from her for weeks. >:/

already, rue grew up never having shit to herself until the record deal. but she also dealt with literally...so much abuse from her mother. rue thought this was the norm growing up, because all of her siblings faced their mother’s wrath at some point & all of them eventually learned to just deal with the shit and do what she says if they wanted to avoid it. they all compartmentalized and repressed to varying degrees. there’s a lot in which rue has repressed so deeply, she doesn’t even remember if it seriously happened or if she was just making it up bc it was so fucking bizarre for a parent to act that way towards their child, lol?? (and this behavior of “i’m just going to do what you say bc i don’t want to deal with whatever bullshit you’re up to if i say no” also carried into business / personal relationships, which is...very Yikes it’s amazing she didn’t get scammed or worse!)

so sure, people have complimented her for her exceptional manners & her cleanliness & how quiet / polite she is & how amazing her posture is, bc seriously, this girl will never experience back problems in her life bc her posture is so on par. but where rue typically smiles / responds bashfully, she can’t exactly just up and say: “oh, yeah, my mom used to slap the shit out of me ‘til i bruised if i spoke out of turn or talked back, and if i reached for anything in the store or put my elbows on the table she’d slap a ruler against my palms ‘til i got welts, and she’d make me read verses all night without sleep if i did anything wrong and make me straighten up and kneel on rice if i slouched or took a nap in church and humiliated me in public if i so much as looked at someone of the opposite sex on the street n oh, did i mention i also cleaned houses for rich millionaire snobs from ages twelve to sixteen and if they said or did literally anything to me i wasn’t allowed to defend myself?? ya i’m real proper :)”

(and normal ppl will go: “...................what the FUCK is WRONG with you????”)

but oh man, babe, we’re not done yet!!! rue, being the product of both a highly religious and a highly exploitative household...had difficulty when she started reaching puberty & noticing her classmates. plural, because it wasn’t just boys that she began to secretly have crushes on / fantasize abt, sexually or domestically. she also realized, oh shit, that she started looking at girls differently too. and that literally put the fear of god into her heart, bc if her mother ever found out that she was having non-platonic feelings for the girls in her classrooms, she wasn’t going to be pissed. her mom might have actually tried to kill her. or have her exorcised or something. she knew the shit would be severe, and she wanted no fucking parts of her mother or her siblings inserting the church into her personal life, thank u very much! so rue started suppressing her romantic feelings for people to the point where if adult rue receives intimacy, she’s like “...is this allowed? is this not illegal??????” while simultaneously being like “i will be a slut. just this once. as a Treat to teenage me. :>” regardless, rue learned to molotov cocktail literally any emotion or thought she had, bc she was paranoid that it would give her mother a vision.

now, onto the perils of exploitation...she should’ve been used to it really, what with her mother forcing herself & siblings to lure customers into their shop with promises of visions and palm readings and the wonders of the cards and overexerting their abilities. same with housekeeping, like being of service to people was normal! but when seventeen year old rue decided to sign a record deal and break from home, she wasn’t thinking critically about what the fuck all of this would entail. and as described in this headcanon post abt her discography, her early music was the product of allowing people much older & powerful than you to influence your work & manipulate your values. so rue was very much parading around as someone she wasn’t, someone much more confident and badass and self-assured than she really was, and she was so impressionable back then that it literally makes her sick to think back on it now. she calls it her puppy phase and phrases the eagerness to please execs as ‘tongue wagging’. homegirl hardly even knew her name anymore, bc all she was and all she would ever be was rue, the star, the vocal temptress. not ai’rina, the help or ai’rina, the seer, ai’rina, the weak little nobody. but later on, the subtle manipulation was less about decision making & how they wanted her to sound, and more about how they wanted to present the latest trophy star — because after all, she was pretty. people liked her. she sung really well. suitors weren’t too far off into the distant future. so why not kill two birds with one stone by having a high ranking label artist keep tabloids talking by being seen in public with a few heart throbs? surely, there’s no harm in manipulating an eighteen/nineteen year old’s love life! under the guise of improving her social skills & relations with fellow artists and the media and the like, rue gave into the pressures and let herself be taken out on dates & seen at awards shows with a few guys. no big deal. it was only for a night or so, she could handle the attention. then, one night appearances turned into week long appearances. pretending to date for only a month! completely innocent, positive exposure. :)

(adult rue, looking back @ younger rue: you stupid fucking BITCH-)

yeah, so once her label/management realized that she was turning into a hot commodity, they lost no sleep at allowing their nineteen year old artist to be seen ‘dating’ 20-24+ year old men occasionally. and whatever happened after their public appearances were none of their business. plus, she was good at pretending and being arm candy — so rue experienced her first kiss, her first dates, and her first times with people who she’s almost certain hardly remember their time with her, and really only got involved with her for a mutual career boost. very few of them does she actually remember in a positive light, and the ones that were positive, still depress her bc lmao all of it was fake, even if they were really nice & made it less like a chore and more like they actually wanted to be with her!! even fewer of them were actual relationships. meaning, said person asked her out of their own volition, not bc their managers thought it’d be a decent match on camera. it was evil, really, what her old label made of her. (like, she makes funny jokes that her first time having sex was awkward bc she had a vision halfway through that bummed her out but in reality it was just...really more of a transaction that made her feel icky n progressively worse abt herself until it happened more often and now she just doesn’t care anymore. sex is just sex, u know?? everything’s fake. why you gotta make it personal.) this whole fiasco took over the larger part of rue’s career from like, age nineteen to age twenty-two or so, and she suffered dramatically from this because what is even a genuine, authentic relationship at this point? what do u mean you want to get to know me? did ur manager tell you to ask so many damn questions & try to get to know me? obviously you want something from me bc that’s why everyone gets into a relationship or has sex with me, stop confessing feelings for me u fucking loser. >:/

like...rue doesn’t even have friends. outside of her relationship with marcelo / @armsdealing (which, AGAIN, i think was initially arranged to promote her song be honest, how fucking IRONIC), rue does not have any personal relationships with anyone. i mean, she likes her latest management team since switching labels...her hair stylist is rly cool & her make up artist is fun to vacation with...she met a few other celebrities at events that she occasionally texts & has dinner with...yeah, she’s basically a pretty hermit. her family is more or less out of the question — the few brothers & sisters she does still have a positive relationship with (like, four of them lol), they don’t see each other in person often / mainly communicate via groupchat and facetime calls when all of them have time. she tried visiting with her mother over the years, but the verbal & emotional abuse/curses placed on her/accusations of being an imp of satan for singing to the public/memories of being forced to perform psychic shows & clean for chump change keeps her from trying to mend that relationship. like, being gaslit by ur mother isn’t really the vibe, u know? and bottom line, rue simply is a very shy and socially stunted individual who does not know how to communicate like a normal human being anymore. hell, her life revolves around pretending for strangers at this point!

now, onto how...all of That ties into her behavior / state of mind during this next album. so, after riding the wave of success from her third album & the circus that came with that. rue sort of had a fucking existential crisis. came out of absolutely nowhere. (not nowhere — one of her brothers called her out of the blue and called her ai’rina and she literally went “who the fuck is that?”) told her label that she was taking some time in between albums bc she was creatively zapped or whatever bullshit excuse she came up with that somehow worked bc this new label was a little more understanding than the last. vacationed for a little, did some hot girl shit, bought a house, tried to see her mother again for whatever reason then got the shit slapped out of her and finally screamed at her to never touch her again unless she wanted to Throw Hands. cried and got drunk abt it. that took six months. bullshat to her label again, dropped like two songs to smooth things over, decided to focus on magic for a little to ground her, started partying with label mates then going home shitfaced & hungover every other morning. that took eight months. dropped one last song, promptly deleted her twitter, tried to write songs again, got a call from her mother and panicked and got drunk. that took a year. vacationed some more, got even drunker, was bed ridden for like three months because holy shit i’m having so many visions and if i see One More Thing my brain is going to explode, couldn’t separate the present from the future for weeks after that, told absolutely no one about that, cried every day & had an identity crisis, dyed her hair to appease the identity crisis goblins. that took a year and a half.

now, she just chilling. dyed her hair again. scaring her siblings halfway to death bc she keeps going on benders & sending cryptic texts abt the visions she’s getting but they’re so incomprehensible that they’re seriously considering moving in to get her fucking shit together. had a vision that she was married with kids and had a two week identity crisis appeased only by moving houses. (she was in a neighborhood with families...too much Drama and visions. turned into a really cool song tho.) started calling herself by her birth name of ai’rina in private. reactivated twitter to send cryptic tweets that her album is coming. working on said album. trying to drink less but kinda failing bc how is one simply supposed to make a highly personal dual album without alcohol??? prbly somewhere crying in marcelo’s lap or smthn. just vibes.

like...i feel like, in my head, the Theme of her project is wrapped up in identity. her relationship with fame and whatnot. trying to coax her childhood self out of its’ shell so that she can function like a normal goddamn person for once and re-establish her values. like, if someone went to any of rue’s residences right now, it’s just songbooks everywhere and wine glasses and her crystals and shit, bc she still has people’s futures to read for money. (yes, she never really got out of that portion of her childhood, but hey it pays.) it was all very confusing to experience at once while in bed at four in the morning & even though i tried organizing and debated on this, it’s still a Lot. which is why i am once again asking for plots that would allow her to dissect all these Things

so yeah. album four otw, with a side of confronting our childhood & facing our traumas!

#rue — facts #imagine me making a cohesive hc post #it wont happen but like imagine how sexy that would be #anyway this is long and me thinks stream of conscious hc posting is both therapeutic and Exhausting #but i had a lot of thots abt her that needed to be shared to...yeah #abuse tw #alcoholism tw #long post tw #i feel like that its always sunny meme??? yall know which one #but anyways this is somehow overwhelming n embarrassing that i typed so much so i am going to hiding!#UNLESS!...........u want to plot with this Disaster of a woman :eyes:

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

❌ So yesterday night Alastor invited over a guest to cook dinner for.

❌ I could tell the second she arrived because I could hear frigging "Be Our Guest" start up in the lobby.

❌ I tried to avoid that whole scene, but from down a hall I definitely spotted a shadow-thing juggling dishes.

❌ He rewrote the lyrics. I didn't catch all of them, but I did hear "Can they sing? Who can tell! After all, doll, this is Hell!"

❌ If you're on the fence about checking into the hotel and you're a musical theater fan: if you come, there's basically a 100% chance that the Radio Demon will do a musical number for you.

((So @autokrates came over for dinner last night, and we decided not to roleplay it out, but we DID write a long semi-pseudo-roleplay summary of how that meeting would have gone, so for any parties who are interested, HERE'S THAT CHAT LOG))

Valera

So! Largely, I believe. Val showing up, a musical number happens, and then ingredient delivery

Alastor

Sounds right.

Then Alastor preps dinner, spends too much time fussing with this Newfangled Modern Machine With Settings And Dials, and they sit staring at a slow cooker for a while.

Valera

Ah yes, nothing like sitting in dead silence waiting for things with someone you don't know! She should have asked Pentious for-- OH YEAH. Slide a pamphlet over. He can busy himself with memorizing that for a little while

Alastor

He absolutely will. And he will politely play showtunes in the background for the benefit of his guest as he reads.

Valera

Ah, just the thing for her to occupy herself with. Quietly stimming by wiggling her fingers and tail to the music

Alastor

He'd probably say thanks for the info but uh why give it to him? (Not that he doesn't WANT it but like, it seems pretty private, he's surprised that Valera—and Sir Pent?—think he's worthy of being let in on where Sir Pentious is this week)

Alastor three days after falling asleep on the floor all tangled up with Sir Pent: haha yeah but it's not like we're CLOSE is it?

Valera

Dumb old men being dumb!!!

Alastor

HE JUST. ASSUMES HE'S WAY MORE INTO THIS THAN SIR PENT...

Valera

Pentious asked her to elaborate to Alastor what was happening, since she's still got a level head and experience with shedding. Which is convenient, because she'd fully intended to anyway. Pentious may want company, and Alastor needs to be prepared.

Alastor

OuO oh so he trusts Alastor that much huh. He will... file that fact away... somewhere in his heart

Valera

Aside from herself, he's the person Pentious trusts most. Casually sips materialized tea.

Alastor

Immediately tries to play it off like HAHA MUST BE A SHORT LIST. ... Which would probably be funnier if not for the fact that, like, it IS a short list.

Valera

She will... Refrain from commenting on the list being Two People long. But she will raise a very deliberate eyebrow at the way he avoids any signs of emotional attachment

Which actually reminds her! She owes him an apology.

Maybe multiple? Whatever.

Alastor

(He might be verbally avoiding signs of emotional attachment but outside of that, like, it's gonna be hard for her not to notice that his attention on the conversation goes from like 75% to 110% the moment Sir Pent comes into it and he drops everything to focus on the Info Pamphlet That Might Be Helpful For Sir Pent)

Genuinely :)? at that, apology for what

Valera

Well, a few things! Pentious shared Alastor's letters with her, which, yes he was asking for input, but it was a bit invasive.

Alastor

Goes from :)? to :]

Valera

And then for, what was it, outing him? The post was taken down, but if Pentious had mixed feelings about it, well. She can't assume how Alastor felt even if she did say it was an Opinion Piece.

Shrug!!

Alastor

Oh THAT? Sure Alastor thinks he saw that go by now that Val mentions it. It's exactly what she said: an opinion piece!!! Why, he's an infamous celebrity! Everyone has an opinion on him and most of them are wrong! He doesn't put much stock in them~

Valera

Regardless! Her bluntness charms some, but it can also be quite inappropriate. She hopes it didn't distress him too much, it was never her intention.

She is a POLITICIAN.

Alastor

Why, he hardly even noticed it.

Valera

Good! Looping back around to her beau, did Alastor have any other questions?

Alastor

... Anything he can send to help out?

(NOW he's all self-conscious, offering to do something NICE. gotta try to be all aloof about it)

Valera

(Wow he really IS like Pentious but Even Worse.. She is amazed.) Send? Oh, no dear fellow. Asking for food today was largely a cover to visit without having Vaggie relay all this information thirdhand. Though he did do quite a fine job of making the food, Pentious will love it.

(assuming, but the Smell)

Alastor

✨💖 Oh will he? That's good. 💖✨

Valera

Yes. Alastor cut the vegetables and meat into the perfect sizes to avoid a texture issue, couldn't have done it better herself. Prr prr

Alastor

(He's like Texture Issue???? but like. He's not gonna ask.)

Valera

She will GLOSS PAST THAT, THEN. Beyond the food, which was a lovely bonus, hmm... No, she's already providing the lotions and voice recordings for Pentious. Unless he's willing to be an in house cheer squad when the snake gets bored and blind, there isn't much he could do.

Alastor

Well, he'd be glad to come over for a visit if it'd lift his spirits—if Sir Pentious would want the visit?

Valera

She expects he will! He's.. Distressed.

Uncomfortable shift. SHE DOESN'T LIKE BEING SO VAGUE.

Alastor

Well now she's got 150% of Alastor's attention.

Valera

Twitchy Tail Time!!! Yes. Well, the pamphlet makes it very dry, but a shed is nothing short of agony. Itchy, painful, it leaves you blind and helpless. If you've already got... experiences with such things. It makes it worse. Pentious is barely into it and he's already ready to attack anything that moves.

Alastor

... Well! Let Alastor know when he can come by.

(He's got trouble wrapping his head around the idea of WANTING company while pained and helpless, but if Valera says he does, then Alastor is going by that)

(... and if Sir Pent gets pissed Alastor came over he's 100% pointing a finger at Val and going "well she said you'd like it")

Valera

(LMAO)

(Val would explain it as wanting a strong person present so you can feel protected and finally relax)

(She's appealed to Pentious' ego with that!!)

Hah! Yes, of course. Though he may need to go to Valera's home, fair warning. She's trying to coax Pentious into laying in her tub to get through this. She's got more equipment to deal with the symptoms, and a larger bathroom by far.

Alastor

Having a near stranger over sounds like something that should worry Valera more than Alastor! For him, it's a bonus.

Valera

OH MAKE NO MISTAKE. VAL'S NOT SURE ABOUT IT

BUT. she's confident Alastor isn't going to do anything dumb in her house

bc Pentious would FLIP SHIT

Alastor

She's already decided that Alastor won't behave himself out of basic decency as a guest or even out of a desire to maybe get invited back but he WILL behave himself solely because Sir Pent is there and he's feeling kind of called out. Called out in his own kitchen, in front of his own crock pot,

Valera

Raises an eyebrow

She's grinning but she shouldn't be when she's acting like a little shit

Alastor

BUT WHAT HE ACTUALLY SAYS IS of course he'll be on his best behavior :) :) :)

WHY IT'S NOT EVERY DAY HE MEETS SOMEONE WITH SUCH FINE TASTE IN THE PERFORMING ARTS, he'd be a fool to be a poor guest

Valera

Glad to hear it! He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman so far, but with the way Pentious rants about other demons, an abundance of caution seems wise. Nothing personal, dear fellow.

Demon culture is very much a mystery to her, and a confusing one at that.

Alastor

COMPLETELY reasonable. After all, everyone is down here for a reason.

Valera

She would agree, if the concept of sin wasn't such an odd one! It comes down to survival of the fittest, at the end. But just because some pompous sky man says he loves you if you follow his contradictory rules, humans are doomed to eternal torment? It's bizarre.

Ah, but excuse her. Her viewpoint is, literally, alien.

Alastor

You make the world, you make the rules. What is the guy powerful enough to give the orders and see that they're obeyed if not "the fittest"? Who has the power to argue if he prints a list of criteria for who he does and doesn't want joining him in his gated community in the sky?

He's told someone tried to argue with him once. And that's how THIS little neighborhood got started.

Valera

Oh, it's not so bad. Heaven is a pretty dull place! All sorts of goody two shoes drinking tea and baking pies in the perfect idyllic weather. Forever.

Alastor

You know, for a time, Alastor used to think that all the "punishment" narratives around Hell were just talk. He had this theory that, actually, humans were sent to the afterlife they were better suited for. The people sent to Heaven are the kind of people who'd LIKE being in Heaven, the people sent to Hell are the kind of people who would be bored stiff in Heaven and just make it miserable for the people who want to be there.

But he was wrong. It really, truly is rotten down here. Not just because of the wilted vegetables and awful weather. Hell grinds at you on a spiritual level. It really is a punishment.

Valera

Well that's.. A lot at once. Vaguely concerned frown.. That she is going to cover with her tea turning to a Nice Dark Coffee. SSSssssssSSSIP.

Alastor

Just thought she might benefit from an insider perspective! She can rest assured: the pie-baking tea-drinkers really are better off.

:) :) :)

Valera

Interesting! She's never spent much time in Hell out of arms reach of Pentious, but that's something to keep in mind for the future.

Alastor

Happy to help~!

Valera

[[ val voice: haha yeah whenever I'm in hell I'm getting doted on but I'll keep an eye out for emotional wear and tear!

Alastor

(It's different for visitors who only come to chat with the convicts)

Valera

(Of course. More for Pentious than herself, she doesn't know a lot of his backstory yet BUT SHE KNOWS ITS SAD)

Now, moving to happier topics! She loves what hes done with the hair. Though it makes him rather fresh faced

Alastor

WHY, THANK YOU!! It was all the rage a hundred years ago! But they do say fashion trends come back around!!

Sir Pentious wasn't as impressed by it, but, hey, can't win them all, can you?

Valera

Ah, don't worry about it. He just takes a bit to come around to change!

... Usually.

Alastor

Well, doesn't matter, he probably won't be keeping it long.

"Usually"?

Valera

She grins!!! Yes, usually. He's remarkably easy to get on board with just about anything if you can relate to something else he likes.

Alastor

Well, naturally! Who isn't?

Valera

The LOOK on her face is like she SUCKED A LEMON.

You'd be surprised.

Alastor

... Apparently so!

he's gone from :) to 8) like what did he just step in

Valera

NOTHING SHE'S GETTING INTO! Now, tell her dear man. What kind of musicals do you like?

Alastor

............... All of them???

Valera

Oh? Everything from Les Mis to Cats?

Anything Goes?

Alastor

Are those the two extremes? Then apparently so! What about you?!

Valera

She has preferences when she's PERFORMING in them, but from an enjoyment perspective, she can appreciate any production.

Alastor

A fan after his own dead heart!

Valera

She can do a MEAN patter song, but she likes being able to dance around while she's belting lines out. Acrobatics are where she can really show off!

Alastor

Well, then he hopes he'll have a chance to see her dancing sooner rather than later! Alastor never received much in the way in formal training in dance, and he's sure it shows, but he likes to think he makes up for it with personality.

Valera

Oh pish posh. Dance is at least fifty percent attitude, he'd be phenomenal on or off the stage. And she can always give pointers, if he's looking for them.

Alastor

He really only does it for his own entertainment—AND for the entertainment of honored guests, of course—but if he ever decides to get back into theater for whatever reason, he'll keep her generous offer in mind.

Valera

Of course! Not like she's going to do a lot of dancing with Pentious here. Her love is many things, but a dancer is not one of them. Snrk snrk.

Alastor

Really. Huh.

So how DID they meet, anyway?? Alastor's been wondering! Hard for sinners to meet many people outside of Hell.

Valera

Oh! Haha, funny story, that. But how much detail does he REALLY want?

Alastor

Well, far be it from him to pry into anything she doesn't think she ought to share, of course. But he wouldn't have asked if he didn't wonder.

Valera

Fair! Alright, well. They met on tumblr, obviously. Pentious was flailing about being combative and intentionally aggressive. You know. Pentious.

Alastor

Naturally.

Valera

She decided to approach him without the immediate hostility so many of her peers were demonstrating. Doesn't everyone deserve a chance to explain themselves, after all? He seemed like he was lashing out, not truly malicious. Nobody had bothered explaining to him that what he did was wrong, or why.

And, you know. If you attack someone, you can't be surprised if they attack you right back. Obviously.

Alastor

Obviously.

Valera

So! Yes. She approached him, asked questions. Asked for his side of things. And they got along just fine! So she invited him over for tea, arguably. But mostly he invited himself over because she made too much tea.

Alastor

So just a chance encounter while adrift among the Internet's airwaves! How serendipitous.

Valera

More or less! Though really, she'd spoken to Alastor more at that point. Other Alastor. He'd been inviting her over to his hell, so she'd likely have met Pentious under very different circumstances if she hadn't approached him then.

But! He came over, and they talked. And they talked a LOT. About their passions, and about how ridiculous people can be these days.

And gods, can they. Then they decided to watch The Mikado! Has he heard of it?

Alastor

Has he heard of it?! One of Gilbert & Sullivan's most renown shows?! Madam! Of course he had!

Valera

Oh good, good good! He continues to impress! So lovely to know there are other people with taste around here. So yes! They watched The Mikado, and it went.. Almost alarmingly well. At the start they were on opposite ends of the couch, and by the end he was sprawled across her lap like he lived there.

Alastor

...... Well!

He warms up to people fast.

Valera

Haha! Perhaps he was simply overly pleased to connect with someone again, and let his guard down? They wound up making out on the couch like a pair of horny teens, so.

Alastor

...... Well!

Valera

Sssssips drink.

Alastor

............ Congratulations! (he has No Idea what you're supposed to say to that)

Valera

Thanks! (She doesn't either) Want to know an incredibly adorable fact about Penny?

Alastor

Sure!!

(he is retaining a Remarkable poker face through all this)

Valera

He likes it when you scratch his hood. Makes him melt in to a happy little pile of scales.

(someone please... Help Alastor....)

Alastor

Ha! Well, isn't that darling.

(The only one who can help Alastor is Alastor himself and he's like "why should I help, what's that bitch ever done for me")

Valera

Very. Should he ever deign to let you try it, the results are best from juuust the very joint of his neck and hood.

(ALASTOR PRACTICE SELF CARE)

Alastor

(FOR THE LAST HALF CENTURY HIS SELF CARE HAS BEEN AVOIDING SEEING/THINKING ABOUT SIR PENT EVER AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. He still needs to figure out how to do a self-care that's the opposite of that!)

Duly noted! Alastor's sure it'll never happen, but even so.

Valera

Oh, she isn't so sure! Penny speaks fondly of him.

Alastor

... Hm.

Well, there are different sorts of fondness, aren't there!

Valera

Well, yes of course? She's fond of many people, but she isn't exactly engaged to the vast majority of them. What is his point?

Alastor

That THAT'S the sort of intimacy one usually reserves for someone closer to the "engaged" end of the fondness scale—hold on, engaged??

Valera

Oh? Yes, engaged. Anyway, is it? This must be one of those human things again. There's nothing sexual about enjoying platonic physical contact, there's no reason for it to be relegated to a relationship.

Alastor

Well, what does Alastor know, he's never been a very touchy person. SO, how long have you two been...? Well, probably since before Alastor met either of you, silly question! He just must not have heard.

Valera

Oh, no it's.. Arguably recent? Certainly after he and Pentious started talking. Though don't get too fussed, dear. Pentious has a ring he hasn't lobbed at her yet. They've just agreed to get married, Pentious refers to her as his fiancé. No dates set or anything.

Alastor

Oh, good, so he didn't miss some big announcement. That WOULD have been embarrassing

Valera

He did not! And really, with how he and Pentious get along he might wind up getting asked for advice if a proposal ever actually occurs.

Alastor

... He doesn't know what kind of advice he could offer! He's not known for his expertise in romance, ha.

((suddenly got a flashing glimpse of a possible future where Alastor is the best man, standing like five feet away from Sir Pent trying to hold it together))

Valera

[[ JFDHFKDSHJFKDS HONESTLY.... IT'S LIKELY

Valera

You know, she doesn't think any of them are! Marriage isn't something Veci usually do with aliens, but Pentious insisted he wanted a proper marriage, and kids, and she's not opposed to either if that makes him happy. Though seeing him with the dolls is incredibly endearing.

Alastor

((And I will be FILLED TO THE BRIM with sadistic glee))

The dolls??

Valera

[[ Alastor crying ASMR

Alastor

(("Al are you okay—" "YEAH I'M FINE IT'S JUST. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL. ISN'T IT. SO MOVING."))

Valera

Yes! Would you like to hear that story?

Alastor

SURE!!

Valera

Super! So! She doesn't know ALASTOR'S stance on calling women things like sluts and whores, but she herself is.. Not terribly fond of those words. Something about having them screamed at her, just doesn't sit well.

Alastor

One rarely is fond of the words one's been on the receiving end of.

Valera

Indeed. Pentious on the other hand, used them quite freely against any woman he wasn't pleased with.

But! Pentious wants kids someday, and kids are of course, quite perceptive little creatures. And no child of hers is going to grow up internalizing that kind of nonsense, either as a measure of their worth or as something a proper young man calls any lady.

So! She made a few dolls, to demonstrate her point. Pentious wants kids, so she made him some dolls that resemble what his offspring would.

And then hurled abuse at them quite freely!

He didn't take kindly to hearing what random men would call his own daughter, funnily enough.

Alastor

Alastor's like lmao. (IT SEEMS KINDA MEAN AND MEAN THINGS AMUSE HIM... he's half powered by schadenfreude)

Valera

(It WAS mean)

Alastor

And he takes it that worked.

Valera

Pentious can often be found curled up with his little doll family, and he hasn't used a slur since, so! Yes.

Alastor

No surprise there! He is, at his heart, a family man in hibernation, isn't he?

Valera

Not even in hibernation! He's incredibly eager to start a family.

Alastor

Of course. Now that he has the chance. Probably the only man in Hell who does.

Formerly in hibernation, then.

Valera

Can sinners not reproduce?

Alastor

No! Sterile, one and all. The dead do not breed. There are the few rare exceptions who have been supernaturally promoted out of the pool of the damned and made nobility of the same rank as the native Infernal-born or Heaven-fallen demons—Queen Lilith, for instance—but that's not just a thing that HAPPENS. A sinner must be CHOSEN, typically by Lucifer himself. Alastor wouldn't be surprised if it happens less than twice a millennium.

And even at that, to his knowledge these ascendant damned have never bred with each other—only with the Infernal nobility.

Valera

Huh! Fascinating. She really should learn more about the going ons of hell... But good to know! That explains the way Pentious.. Basically went feral as soon as he found out it was possible to have a family.

She's still not sure about the whole "eyes going red" thing, but he's explained it as any peak of emotion.

Alastor

It happens!

... Did you account for the possibility of him being sterile when you promised him a family? Or did you make the promise on the assumption that he's as fertile as any living man?

Valera

Oh, she can reproduce with anyone who has a soul. Pentious IS a damned soul. Ergo...

Alastor

Getting around the usual rules, then! Good. Alastor would so hate to hear if he'd gotten his hopes raised just for them to be dashed again.

Valera

Oh, she was careful to check! Many demons are soulless beings, and she hates to be made a liar of. Though she wasn't even sure poor Pentious even had genitals at the time!

Alastor

Well. Surprise.

Valera

She is Looking Away

Yes... Surprise indeed.

Alastor

He is the picture of :) neutrality

Valera

Val is trying very hard to keep the conversation from going to DARK PLACES. So!!! Subject change time.

Did you and he have fun at your last visit? He tends to give her a summary, but it's nice to hear the other perspective

Alastor

OH. YES. SURE. DELIGHTFUL TIME.

Valera

Oh? Delightful?

Alastor

Yeah, sure! ... Why, did he not think so?

Valera

Oh! He.. Got very drunk. His memories get fuzzy.

Alastor

... Well, that was half of what made it delightful!

Valera

She wouldn't know, but she's very glad to hear it!

Alastor

You abstain? Or not biologically capable?

Valera

Oh, neither. Rarely have the chance to actually relax anymore, too many attempts to murder her over the years. Regicide is very in, you know.

Alastor

Heavy is the head!

Valera

Hah! He can say that again. It's a thankless job. But somebody's got to do it.

Alastor

((I'M RUNNIN OUT OF STEAM... and they chatted about a lot more than I expected, this was productive!! Anywhere else you think we oughta steer the conversation or d'you think it's safe to go And Then They Chatted More, The End))

Valera

[[ NAH I THINK ITS BEEN ESTABLISHED WELL ENOUGH. STEER BACK TO MUSICALS, THEY TALK SHOP, AND THEN WHAM FOOD

#autokrates #chat log

13 notes · View notes

madasthesea · 5 years

Note

what about the remember me one? seen a lot of fics with peter getting amnesia but never one of tony forgetting anything? could be a nice switch to see how peter would deal with that + tony trying to figure out how he went from a wild playboy to a supposed superhero with a teenager. I'm sure I'd cry lmao

Guess what, anon. I already had 2000 words written on this very topic. Hence why this is so very long.

Tony wakes up. He blinks around at the well-lit room around him—softblue walls, clean sheets on his bed. There’s medical equipment around him,beeping steadily with his heartbeat.

He isn’t worried, but he is confused.

He has no idea where he is.

A hospital, he thinks,but he doesn’t know how he knows that.

Actually, the more he thinks, the more he realizes that he doesn’tknow... anything.

His name is Tony. He’s in a hospital room. There’s a dull achebuilding at the back of his head.

That’s it. He closes his eyes and concentrates, tries to rememberhow he got here, but there’s nothing before he opened his eyes.

“Tony?”

Tony jerks his eyes open, looks at the dark-haired woman suddenlystanding in front of his bed.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she replies, smiling a little. “I’m Dr. Helen Cho.”

Tony tries to think if the name is familiar. Or if it should befamiliar. It isn’t, so he says, “Nice to meet you.”

Dr. Cho hums. “Yes. About that. I suspected based on the MRIresults from this morning, but this confirms it. Tony, you have full retrogradeamnesia. It is temporary. We’re finding a solution.”

Tony frowns. “How do you already know it’s temporary if I’ve justwoken up?”

Dr. Cho doesn’t seem surprised by his blunt question. In fact, herlittle smile grows just a bit.

“The cause of your amnesia is not from blunt force trauma or a deteriorationin the hippocampus, but another source that I feel is best not to disclose atthis time. I’ve consulted another doctor with your case and he assures me thatthere is a solution that will fully restore your memories, it will just take afew days to take effect.”

“That sounds suspicious as heck, but I guess I’ll take your wordfor it, Doc. You seem like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. That’s why you hired me,” Helen says simply. That’s news toTony. He thinks about his response for a moment.

“And the other doctor. I hired them, too?”

“Dr. Strange is a... colleague of yours. He wanted to help.” Tonyraises an eyebrow, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Cho keeps speaking. “Wouldyou like to see your family now, Tony?”

Tony freezes. He... he has a family? Are they worried about him? Dothey know he has amnesia... that he can’t remember them?

What if they get mad that he can’t remember them?

His mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows hard.

“Do they know?” He whispers.

“I’ll warn them before they come in,” Helen assures him. When Tonycontinues to stare at the door with wide eyes, she adds, “They’re very worriedabout you, Tony. They’d like to see you.”

“Right. Ok. Umm... bring them in, I guess.”

Helen leaves. Tony tugs at the blanket over his lap, his stomachfluttering with nerves as he waits for someone else to show up. He has no ideawho to expect.

Does he have a spouse? Are his parents alive? Siblings, maybe? Noneof those feel right, but does that mean anything?

The door opens again and Tony’s jaw drops a little bit.

The woman walking toward him is easily the most beautiful personhe has ever seen. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls over her shoulders, herblue eyes wide as she hurries over to him.

“Tony,” she murmurs, sitting on the edge of his bed. She puts onehand on the side of his face, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Umm,” he breathes intelligently. “Hey.”

The woman smiles a bit, her eyes filling with tears. The sightmakes something in Tony’s gut clench, icy dread shooting through his veins.

He sits up a bit, presses his hand over hers.

“Don’t cry,” he says without thinking. “Please don’t cry.”

Her face softens. She rubs her thumb along Tony’s cheek.

“Hi, Tony,” she whispers. “I’m Pepper.”

“Pepper,” he repeats quietly, hoping that it will feel familiar inhis mouth. It doesn’t. “That’s a nice name,” he offers, smiling a little.

Pepper laughs, a soft exhale of breath. Tony likes the way hernose scrunches up when she does it.

“Thank you.” They sit for another moment, hands still overlapping.Tony looks at her intently, hoping that if he looks hard enough he’ll remember something about her.

Finally, he has to ask. “And you’re my...?”

Her smile is a little sadder this time. “I’m your fiancée.”

Tony gapes at her for a second. “Holy crap.”

Pepper laughs again, an actual laugh that makes Tony smile justfrom hearing it.

His breath catches in his throat when she leans forward and kisseshis cheek. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, his stomach swarming with butterflies.

“Even with amnesia, you’re still my Tony,” Pepper says like it’sthe greatest compliment in the world.

He smiles at her, a dopey grin that makes her laugh again. It’sofficially his new goal in life to make her laugh as much as possible.

Although he wants her to stay, after a few minutes, he can’t helpbut wonder if there’s anyone else out in the hall, anxiously waiting for theirchance to talk to him.

“Is... Dr. Cho said ‘they,’” Tony starts out haltingly. “Arethere... more people?”

“Of course,” Pepper assures him. “I’ll go get him.”

Without any explanation as to who ‘him’ is, Pepper kisses hischeek one more time and leaves. He watches her go, his nerves mounting again. Hehalf hopes she’ll come back with the next person. Her presence is starting tofeel familiar and comforting—like his body is remembering her before his brainis.

To Tony’s surprise, the next person that walks in is a kid.

He’s scrawny and a little short, and could be anywhere between thirteenand sixteen. His brown hair curls over his ears, his forehead.

When he saw Pepper for the first time, she had felt like a totalstranger. But as soon as he sees the kid, something in him seems to perk up, avoice in his head repeating I know him. Iknow him. How do I know him?

Tony sits up in his bed, watching the boy with furrowed eyebrows.Why does this kid seem so familiar?

And then their eyes meet.

The boy’s eyes are a warm brown. Tony doesn’t know how he knows, butimmediately he thinks ‘just like mine.’

Tony’s heart skips a beat. His breath catches in his lungs.

Oh mygosh.

That’s myson.

The thought comes with the quiet certainty of fact. And then there’sa rush of emotion so intense Tony is dizzy with it. A sense of awe fills him atthe thought that this living, breathing person is Tony’s kid, and with it an innate need to protect him from anythingthat could possibly hurt him.

The boy stops at the foot of the bed. Tony can see now that hiseyes are red from crying, and it feels like being punched in the stomach, animmediate cry of fix it resounding inTony’s mind.

“Come here,” Tony says, numbly patting the bed where Pepper hadsat before. The kid hesitantly settles himself next to Tony, their legsbrushing through the thin blanket.

Tony swallows hard, tries to take in everything about his son’sface. He’s beautiful, really, and he knows most fathers say that about theirnewborns, but this is Tony’s first time meeting his kid and he’s shaking andscared and already so completely in love with this kid that he doesn’t even know.

He raises a hand to the boy’s cheek, just like Pepper had done tohim. His eyebrows beetle as he looks at Tony, an almost pleading expression onhis face.

“What’s your name?” Tony whispers, hating himself for having toask.

Tony can almost hear the sob his son chokes back.

“Peter.”

Peter.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

“What for?”

“For being such a terrible father that I forgot my own son,” Tonyexplains.

To his surprise, Peter freezes. Maybe he had hoped that Tony hadn’ttruly forgotten him, had still remembered who he was even if he couldn’tremember his name, only to be disappointed.

Tony almost apologizes again, but Peter stops him by slumpingforward and hugging Tony around the middle.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter assures him, his voice breaking.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders, buries his nose inthe kid’s hair. It’s comforting, if not familiar, and Tony is content to sitthere for a long time.

Pepper comes back with Dr. Cho and two other men who introducethemselves as Rhodey and Happy. Tony makes a face at their weird names and theyboth laugh. Peter is still tucked into his side and Tony is happy to keep himthere, combing fingers through his curly hair. He wonders for the first timewho Peter’s mom is. She must have curly hair just like Peter’s, he thinks.

To his surprise, Cho says that he’s free to leave. He’s even moresurprised to learn that this isn’t actually a hospital at all, but a medbay ina tower that he owns and lives in.

“Am I rich?” he asks at that, and everyone laughs so hard theycry, which Tony doesn’t understand at all.

Pepper and Peter lead him to the elevator after he’s changed outof the hospital gown.

“FRIDAY, take us to the penthouse,” Pepper asks politely.

“Of course, Miss Potts,” a woman’s voice answers. Tony jumps andlooks at the ceiling where the voice came from.

“That’s your AI, FRIDAY. You made her,” Peter explains.

“An AI?” Tony asks, his eyes alight in curiosity. “And she runsthe tower?”

“And a load of other things.”

“That’s amazing,” Tony says, grinning. Peter and Pepper both smileback at him.

“Wait until I show you your lab,” Peter promises.

The day speeds by to Tony. After Peter shows him around the lab,which had Tony feeling like a kid in a candy store, they mess around for acouple hours, Peter’s jaw drops and his eyes go huge as he realizes something.

“What?” Tony asks, self-conscious. As fun as the day has been, Tony’samnesia is a stumbling block in most of their conversations, a handicap theyhave to work around.

“You’ve never seen Star Wars,”Peter gasps.

“Umm... no,” Tony agrees, because he definitely doesn’t rememberever seeing it.

Peter grabs his wrist and doesn’t even wait for Tony to put histools down before starting to drag him from the room. “Come on. The only thingbetter than watching Star Wars forthe first time is watching someonewatch it for the first time.”

“That good, huh?” Tony asks, laughing, letting his kid tow himalong.

Peter stops dead and stares at him. “They’re the best movies inthe world.” Then he keeps pulling him along.

And so he spends the evening sprawled on the couch with Peter andPepper, eating pizza and watching Star Wars and Tony thinks maybe he doesn’tneed his memories back if this can be his life from now on.

When Darth Vader reveals himself to be Luke’s father, Tony isappropriately shocked.

“He just cut off his son’shand?” Tony asks, outraged. Peter nods against his shoulder, seeming pleasedwith Tony’s reaction. Tony uses a finger to tip Peter’s chin back so they’relooking at each other.

“I promise, even if I go dark side, I will never cut off yourhand, ok, baby?” Tony tells Peter in faux-seriousness.

“Good to know,” Peter laughs, tucking himself closer to Tony’sside. Pepper, on his other side, is watching them, and when Tony looks over ather she doesn’t clear the confusion off her face quite fast enough.

He wonders if maybe he and Peter don’t usually act like this, ifmaybe Peter is just relieved that he’s ok and is humoring his more tactiletendencies.

He thinks maybe he should be more concerned about the fact that hecan’t remember the previous years of his life, but there’s something... freeingabout it. He can just exist, in this moment, with his fiancée and his son, withno recollection of any past tension or grief or worries.

He isn’t sure why, but he has the terrible suspicion that a lot ofhis memories are not good ones.

That night he dreams of monsters and flying and fathomless spacespread out before him. Someone is screaming, and it’s him and Pepper and Peterall at the same time.

He wakes breathless, the void of his past a welcome reprieve.

The thing he finds weird, he decides as he wanders around thepenthouse the next day while Peter’s still asleep and Pepper’s at meetings, isthat there are no pictures of Peter as a child.

There are plenty of recent pictures, where Peter looks the same ashe does now, and Tony’s in many of them, but if the kid was his son, wouldn’the have baby pictures around? The kid with a trophy of some kind, a Christmas,a birthday?

Maybe they were estranged for a long time?

The thought that Tony could have had a son and not been allowednear him makes him sick.

There are no pictures of anyone that could be his parents either. Hegets a sinking feeling he knows why.

He almost asks FRIDAY, which is still the coolest thing he’s everheard of, but he doesn’t. He has a hard time admitting to himself it’s becausehe doesn’t want to know.

When Peter is finally up and dressed, he comes to Tony with a grinon his face.

“I have a surprise for you,” Peter says.

“Kid, I have no memories, everything is a surprise.”

Peter laughs and takes Tony by the wrist, leading him to theelevator. They go down past the labs, but stop before the Medbay. Tony waitsfor the doors to open with baited breath.

The room Peter leads him into covers the entire floor, and islined on every wall with gleaming metal statues in shades of red and gold.

“Woah,” Tony breathes, stepping out and turning slowly so he cansee more. “What are these?”

“These are your babies,” Peter says simply.

Tony arches an eyebrow at him. “You’re my baby. These are...awesome.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but he seems to be blushing a little, whichTony again finds odd. He was just stating a fact, what was there to beembarrassed about?

“You know what I meant,” Peter says.

“I... I made these?” Tonyasks. Peter had told him that he’s a world-class genius and a mechanic, but it’shard to believe when he has no memories of being either of those things.

“Every one.” Peter sounds proud, and Tony preens a little internally.His son is proud of him. It’s a good feeling.

“What are they for?”

“Brace yourself,” Peter warns, smiling. Tony waits. “Along withbeing a genius and a billionaire, you’re also a superhero. Called Iron Man.These are your suits.”

Tony looks again at the suits, walking slowly around the room andtaking in each one.

“I... I’m a superhero?”

“You’ve saved the world a few times,” Peter admits, tipping hishead against Tony’s shoulder as they stand together, looking at a clunkiermodel of the suit. The plaque under it reads “Mark III.”

“Wow,” Tony breathes. And then he notices the one suit differentfrom all the rest—instead of a robotic suit of armor, it’s more form-fitting,metallic red and blue with a spider emblem on its chest. He walks toward it. “Isthis mine, too?” He asks, confused.

“No, that’s actually... that one’s mine,” Peter tells him. “I’m asuperhero, too.”

Tony whips around to look at Peter. “I let you fightsupervillains?” he asks, suddenly appalled at his own parenting.

Peter shrugs. “You tried to stop me. It didn’t work. So now youprotect me, instead. You made this for me.”

“Are you... is it just the suit? Like me? Or do you...?” He doesn’treally know how to ask his kid if he has superpowers, so he trails offawkwardly. Luckily, Peter gets what he was trying to say.

“Want to find out?” he asks, grinning slyly.

If Pepper were home she definitely would have stopped them. But turnsout Tony’s decision making is very easily swayed when Peter’s enthusiastic andexcitable, and before he knows it, he’s suited up in one of the Iron Man suits,Peter’s in his Spider-Man suit, and they’re both exiting the tower from thebalcony on the 98th floor.

Tony nearly falls to his death the second he takes off, but FRIDAYhelps, and Peter gives him pointers as he swings along next to him, and soon he’sflying like it’s second nature. And maybe it is, to him, buried in his muscles,so deep that even amnesia can’t make him forget it.

He and Peter explore New York from the air, laughing and whoopingas they go, and Peter shows him what he can do: the strength, the wall-climbing,all of it. Finally, breathless, they both sit on the edge of the roof of askyscraper, their feet dangling hundreds of feet above the pavement.

Gosh, how could he ever forget this?This life, this amazing family, this job.

Or maybe his life wasn’t actually like this. Maybe he didn’t spendhis days flying around the greatest city in the world with his son at his side,happy and carefree. But the possibility of it is there now—he’s gotten a tasteof it and wants more. Even when Dr. Cho’s miraculous solution comes through, hecan’t imagine he’ll ever choose to go back to what he was before.

Peter’s rambling next to him, talking about a time when the two ofthem had stopped a bank robbery together. He sounds a little wistful. For thefirst time, Tony feels guilty about not remembering.

“This must be hard for you,” Tony says when Peter pauses.

Peter looks at him. He’s taken off his mask, figuring they’re sohigh up no one can see his face. He shrugs, bouncing his heels against theconcrete below him.

“I... I know I don’t... know you super well right now. I can’tremember when your birthday is, or your favorite food, or what you like to do.”

He stops and takes a breath, before reaching out and turning Peter’sface toward him. The kid’s eyes are wide, and there’s something sad about themthat makes Tony’s heart break.

“But I know I love you. I just look at you and there’s this weightin my chest and I just know that Ilove you so much.”

To his dismay, Peter’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, jeez,” Tony says, hastily moving to wipe the tears away asthey fall. “Do I not tell you that enough or something, Pete?”

“No, no, I just... I love you, Dad,” Peter whispers, and there’ssomething in his voice that Tony doesn’t understand, something guilty and sadand afraid.

“I-I’ll get my memories back soon,” he promises, hoping that willfix it.

“I know,” Peter says. He smiles sadly, than yanks on his mask andstands, leaping without hesitation off the building. Confused and a little hurt,Tony follows.

As they make their way home, all Tony can think about is how Peter’svoice broke when he called him Dad.

In his dream, Tony is holding Peter in his arms, cradled to hischest, looking down at his son’s face.

Peter’s crying. Tony’s crying, too.

He watches his son slowly turn to dust, and at the same rate, hisheart shatters into pieces.

The fragments coat his hands.

Tony wakes up and can’t breathe.

Whatever sick joke his imagination was playing on him, he wasn’thaving it. He stood from his bed and tiptoed down the hall. With a little helpfrom FRIDAY, he found Peter’s room and slipped inside.

He could hear the kid breathing and was instantly soothed as if itwere a lullaby.

Did Tony sing lullabies to Peter when he was a baby? He wonderswhat his favorites were, which ones Peter would babble to, which would calm himdown when he was crying.

Tony steps forward and crawls into his kid’s bed.

Peter stirs next to him, the shift in the mattress alerting him toTony’s presence. “M—Dad?” Peter asks groggily.

“Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you,” Tony whispers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tony assures. The fear of the dream is behind him, the detailsslipping away. It wasn’t real, obviously. Peter’s here, warm and sleepy, andnot ash on his hands. “I had a weird dream, is all.”

Peter blinks himself into alertness. “What happened in it?”

“It doesn’t matter, it was just a dream.”

“Dr. Strange said to tell him if you access your memories in yourdreams. I need to know,” Peter insists, sitting up.

“Well, I know it wasn’t a memory, cause you died in this dream,alright? And clearly, you’re not dead, so not real,” Tony says, propped up onhis elbows.

Peter’s face goes pale, then he sighs. He lays back down, restinghis head on Tony’s chest and getting him to lay down in the process.

“You were holding me,” Peter says quietly. “And I started turningto dust in your arms.”

“How—” Tony starts, butPeter interrupts.

“That really happened. I... I died.”

“Oh my gosh,” Tonybreathes, horrified, wrapping his arms tight around his kid. He remembers thedream more vividly, all of a sudden, remembers the horrible red dirt and thepain in his chest and the absolute, desolate grief. “Oh my gosh.” There are tears in his eyes.

“It’s ok,” Peter whispers. He curls into Tony’s side like he wasmade to fit there. “You saved me.”

“My son. My son.” Tony holds Peter so close he can feel his heartbeating against his own chest. It’s the only thing that lets him sleep againthat night.

If his lifeis anything like his nightmares, he thinks before he falls asleep, he doesn’t want his memories back.

Apparently, the single memory is all Dr. Strange needs to bringthem all back. He explains, in a rather pompous way, that he’s a sorcerer whois going to retrieve Tony’s memories from where the other sorcerer who did thishid them.

That sounds like the most absurd thing in the world to Tony, buthe thinks about Peter yesterday on the roof, of Pepper that morning when she’dgone to kiss him and he’d stiffened in surprise and she’d turned away, tryingto hide her frown, and forces himself to sit still.

And just like that, his memories are back. It’s overwhelming atfirst, all the information pouring in like a computer rebooting. Then he’sjust... there.

He opens his eyes and sees Peter across the room and thinks, Oh, crap. Amnesia Tony was an idiot.

Now that he has his memories and knows that Peter is not, in fact,his son, he is absolutely mortified. And, judging by how much Peter’s avoidingeye contact, he’s not the only one.

Dr. Strange leaves in a spray of golden light and then Pepperlooks between the two of them and excuses herself and suddenly it’s just Tonyand Peter, not looking at each other.

Tony thinks he should be the adult here and speak first, but Peterbeats him to it.

“So, we’re all good now, right? I should probably go back home,May’s been wondering,” he rambles, already halfway out the door.

“Kid,” Tony calls. “Come on, we should, um... talk? About this?”

Peter’s shoulders slump. He seems to steel himself before he turnsaround and forces a smile. “It’s ok, Mr. Stark. I get it, you don’t need toexplain. Why else would a kid be hanging around, it was natural for you toassume...”

“Pete,” Tony tries to say, but Peter just plows over him.

“—And about what you said, it’s-it’s alright, I know it’s just causeyou thought I was-“

“Peter,” Tony saysloudly. There’s a beat.

“I’m sorry I called you ‘Dad,’” Peter whispers. Tony stopsbreathing for a moment. “It was selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, his heart beating loud in his ears.

“I just wanted to see how it felt.” Peter’s voice is small,ashamed.

Oh, kid.

“Come here, Pete.” Peter doesn’t move. “Alright, I’ll come to you,”Tony says, and crosses the room until he can rest both hands on Peter’sshoulders so he can peer into his eyes.

“Kid, you have this all backwards. I didn’t love you because Ithought you were my son,” Tony murmurs. It’s strange how much easier it hadbeen to say when he had no memories of his father telling him he was weak, ofhis team leaving him beaten and bloody, of betrayal after heartbreak afterinjury. He tries to channel that Tony, the one that lived in the moment becausethere was no past to dwell on. He takes a breath and plunges on.

“I thought you were my son because I loved you. Because you walkedinto that room and I knew you, evenif I didn’t remember why.”

Peter’s expression cheers up marginally. “Really?”

“Yeah, buddy. Really. And I,” he hesitates for a second cause it’sfeelings and not necessary, but it’llmake Peter feel better. “I liked you calling me ‘Dad.’”

Peter gives him a watery smile. “I liked having a dad. For alittle while.”

Tony chucks him gently under the chin.

“You’ve always got me, kiddo.”

#Irondad and Spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #my writing #fic #time for bed #I'm so tired I wrote the last part with my eyes closed so hope it isn't awful #Anonymous

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lucacangettathisass · 4 years

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how the light gets in (ch. 8)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list just lmk!

NOTES: so sorry for the slow update! ive been doing some full on hours at work (my manager literally told me that im doing full time hours despite being part time lmao rip) so that’s been leaving me a little drained lmao but hey at least we got there!

more mentions of low self esteem, those are gonna be a lot more prevalent from here on out actually.

on another note, i’ve been wondering if i should rewrite this as an oc fic rather than a reader one. thoughts? i might not even do it, but im curious to hear what you guys think.

anyways, hope you all enjoy! and dont forget, likes are nice but reblogs are what motivate creators the most!

p.s. pls check out waking up slow by mountainhymn!!!! it is so wonderful im still crying

“Well, it really all started with my momma.” You felt yourself begin to fidget and made an effort to stand completely still. “She got a job working for a wealthy Russian widow, Mrs Zamolodchikova.”

Mr Morgan let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a name.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “A lot of Russian names are like that. As I was saying, she hired my momma to be a maid when I was still very young. Mrs Zamolodchikova treated us very well, we even lived in a little cottage she had on her land.”

Despite all the years that had passed, you still thought of that cottage fondly. It had been small and not impressive by any means, but it had been your home for most of your childhood. You had a lot of good memories of it.

“I...I lost my momma when I was seven.” Even now, twelve years later, it hurt to say. Your mother had been your whole world, everything began and ended with her, and it had never once occurred to you when you were a child, that you would one day have to face the world without her. She loved you too much to do that to you. And then it happened anyway.

You had never experienced a heart break like it before, or since.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Mr Matthews said gently.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to speak around the lump that always formed in your throat whenever you thought about losing your mother. “She had been ill for as long as I could remember, it was only a matter of time.”

“I imagine your aunt and uncle took you in?”

“They wanted to, but Mrs Zamolodchikova stepped in. She said that she saw it as her Christian duty to take me in as a ward, and that’s what I became.” It had stunned you at the time to learn that Mrs Zamolodchikova cared for you that much. You would always be grateful for her kindness, it had changed your life. “She had no children of her own, so I think she wanted me to fill that gap.”

“That was very kind of her.” Mr Matthews sounded surprised, and you supposed that it made sense. You couldn’t imagine that he had come across many people willing to take in the child of an employee, particularly among the rich. You certainly had never seen such a thing in your time among them.

You nodded in agreement. “She taught me etiquette and how to behave in upper class circles, and as I got older I became her companion. That was how I met Mr Cornwall.”

A spark appeared in Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes, and you knew that you really had his full interest now. “How did that come about?”

“He was looking for investors in his business, he was just starting out you see, and he needed some capital.”

“So he went to Mrs Zamolodchikova?” Mr Van Der Linde asked. “She must’ve been rather rich.”

“Exceedingly so.” You said. “Her family is very old Russian money, and when she came to America with her husband, her wealth only grew, even after he died. I imagine Mr Cornwall thought that if he could convince her to invest, he would have an easy time of building his empire.”

“Did he?” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes sparkled with a kind of devious curiosity, the kind most often found in children. “Convince her to invest that is.”

“I’m afraid not. Mrs Zamolodchikova found him rather...disagreeable.” A part of you still cringed on the inside just thinking about that meeting. It had started off well, and Mr Cornwall had certainly been polite enough, but once his true character came out, it all started to go downhill rather rapidly.

“In what way?”

You hesitated slightly. “Well, I mean, one doesn’t wish to disparage others when they don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves.”

A chuckle came from Mr Van Der Linde, and you even saw a corner of Mr Morgan’s mouth twitch.

“We just want your honest opinion, that’s all.” Mr Matthews assured you. “No need to be disparaging.”

You paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. “Mr Cornwall...well, Mrs Zamolodchikova and I found him to be rather...brusque and arrogant. When Mrs Zamolodchikova turned down his request, he got rather upset and he seemed to take it as a personal affront.”

“She must’ve grown to regret that.” Mr Van Der Linde mused.

“Not at all. Mrs Zamolodchikova was happy for him of course, but she was also happy she rejected him. She said she couldn’t imagine being in business with someone so...tasteless.”

“Tasteless in what way?” Mr Matthews asked.

“Well he was...very new money.” When you saw the looks of confusion on the mens’ faces, you tried to think of a better way to phrase it. “He was something of a show off, and a little gaudy. He wore a lot of gold, I imagine to try and impress, but it came off as vain and rather insecure. Mrs Zamolodchikova was very critical of that kind of thing, and when she saw how self aggrandizing he became after his success, she grew to dislike him even more.”

Mr Van Der Linde nodded slowly, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “It sounds like you’ve lead a rather interesting life.”

“I suppose you could say that.” Your eyes roamed over the two older men again. “I imagine that wasn’t the kind of information you wanted, my apologies Mr Van Der Linde.”

Despite your fears, the black haired man smiled and waved a hand. “It’s fine Miss [Last name]. I was just curious, that’s all. Javier, why don’t you walk her back to where she’s staying?”

“Sure thing boss.”

You turned to leave with Mr Escuella, but you hesitated just as he put a hand on the door knob. “Wait.” All eyes were back on you, and you felt yourself flush, but you felt that you needed to get this out. “I just-I just wanted to add that Mr Cornwall is a very powerful man, and in my opinion, and in the opinion of mutual acquaintances that he and I share, he is lead more by pride and ego than wisdom. He doesn’t take insults lightly and can be rather harsh.” You were very careful and deliberate with your words, not wanting to seem like you knew better, but still wanting to convey your feelings of apprehension.

Mr Van Der Linde raised an eyebrow, and you got the feeling that he understood what you were trying to say. “Duly noted Miss.”

You nodded, and turned back to Mr Escuella, this time actually following him outside.

“You must’ve lived a pretty good life for a while.”

You shrugged and felt yourself blush heavily. “I suppose.” It always somewhat embarrassed you, knowing how different your life had been from other people, especially those who were born into the same class as yourself. “I honestly just think I got lucky.” You looked down at your feet. “Don’t feel so lucky now though.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying.

“Sorry.” You said softly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my woes.”

“It’s ok.” Mr Escuella assured you, his voice kind again. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you have a right to let your feelings out.”

You looked at Mr Escuella in surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it like that. “You’re very kind.” You said sincerely. “Sadie might not think so but I certainly do.”

That brought a bright smile to Mr Escuella’s face, which made you smile in turn. You always enjoyed making people smile, it made you feel good, and you felt that it proved that you were useful and worth something for once.

“You’re a sweet kid.” Mr Escuella’s eyes were shining, although you couldn’t hazard a guess as to why. “Don’t let anyone beat that out of you, ok?”

“I-Ok.” You weren’t sure how else you should respond, being so unused to compliments from strangers. You watched as he held the door to the house with the other women open. “Are you not coming in?”

“Nah.” He smiled. “You stay warm ok?”

“Of course, and you as well Mr Escuella.” You went inside, and no sooner was the door closed that you were practically swarmed by Miss Jones, Miss Gaskill, and Miss Jackson.

“What did they want?”

“You weren’t gone for very long, did everything go alright?”

“Are you allowed to say?”

You felt yourself flush as you tried to keep track of who was asking which question. “It was nothing special.” You said. “They just wanted to know how I knew Mr Cornwall.”

Of course they all also wanted to know, and so you told them what you had told Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, Mr Morgan, and Mr Escuella-omitting your warning at the end.

Much like the men, they were stunned to hear your story.

“So you grew up pretty well to do.” Miss Jones said, in a tone that sounded impressed and envious.

“I-Well, yes, I suppose.” The embarrassment from earlier had returned. “I was extremely privileged.”

“What was it like?” Miss Gaskill asked, sounding wistful. “Being in that world?”

You paused, trying to think of a good way to describe it.

“When I was a little girl, it was dazzling.” You confessed. “All those men and women in their finery...it looked like an entirely different world. Like a fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” Miss Jackson raised a brow. “Meet any prince charmings?”

You laughed. “I met some well to do gentlemen if that’s what you mean.”

“I think she means suitors.” Miss Gaskill said with a giggle, and an eager look on her face. “Well, did you?”

“Oh!” A scorching heat unlike any of the others from before overcame you, and you felt your throat dry up. “I-Well-no.” You stammered, looking askance out of embarrassment.

“Really?”

You looked up and saw Miss Roberts looking at you with surprise. “You mean none of them tried to…” She trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blank.

“Not at all.” You said, your flush worsening. “After all, I was just a maid’s daughter.”

And therein lies the rub.

No matter how much you learned or how you dressed or how you behaved, everyone knew that you were just the daughter of a maid who Mrs Zamolodchikova had taken pity on. Most of them had been polite enough, but that boundary had always been there, and always would be. You had grown accustomed to it, the way one would grow accustomed to a permanent limp. And it left you with what you imagined would be the same level of alienation. It was one of the many unfortunate side effects of being born as yourself, and one you had learned how to deal and navigate the world with.

But it would always be a fairy tale to you. Beautiful, grand, never within your reach no matter how well you knew it. And you would always be that little girl that chased after it with every breath in her chest.

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #rdr 2 #red dead 2 #red dead fic #fic: how the light gets in

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ice-cream-beat · 5 years

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Title: A Tale of Two

Author: 狸コージ Circle: Mr.マグロ

Series: Tales of Zestiria Main characters: Sorey, Alisha, Mikleo + party cameos Ships: Sorey/Alisha

Content rating: G Warnings: None Pages: 14 Ease of reading: you don’t even need to read | super easy | know some grammar first | tricky | advanced

Summary:

This is another doujinshi that’s split into several small stories. Since the book isn’t very long, I decided not to post a scan from every segment since that’s a bigger scan-to-total-pages ratio than I’m comfortable with doing, with respect to the author.

Story #1: A Tale About a Secret

The party has gathered for a snack break with some strawberry macaroons that Alisha made. While Sorey is beside himself with praise over how good they are, Mikleo makes the offhanded comment that they're the best thing Alisha has made to date. Sorey asks if he's tried Alisha's cooking before, and she informs him that Mikleo has been giving her secret lessons for the past few days.

Annoyed, Sorey snaps at Mikleo for not inviting him along. (Meanwhile, Edna and Lailah keep eating the macaroons in the background lol.) Alisha gets nervous as the boys bicker and promises to bring Sorey along next time, while Mikleo tries to comfort her by assuring her that Sorey's mad at him, not her.

That night, Sorey wakes Mikleo up and begs him to teach him how to make snacks. Confused and mildly exasperated, Mikleo says he'll teach him something basic, but Sorey interrupts and specifically requests that he learn something that Alisha doesn't know how to make.

And then Mikleo gets the best expression on his face that I've ever seen, and immediately exposes Sorey's obvious plan:

"So that's how it is--you learn to make a snack that Alisha can't, and then she comes to you to learn it instead of me, because you want to teach her, and--"

"How could you figure that out when I barely said anything?!"

After getting Sorey to admit that he's jealous, Mikleo agrees to teach him. He does so for three days and nights, encouraging him even when Sorey's attempts fail terribly... because at the end of the day you can’t say Mikleo isn’t a good friend, lol. In the end, Mikleo comments that Sorey's "just the type of guy" who would be willing to ask for help from the very person he's so jealous of.

Story #2: A Tale About the Things We Like

The party comes upon a field full of flowers, where Sorey asks Alisha if she’s into things like flowers and butterflies (and adds that he likes them, too). She says she does, and he excitedly starts asking what other kinds of things she likes, such as her favorite foods and books. When his enthusiasm confuses her, he explains:

“If I know the kinds of things you like, then I can tell you about them when I see them! I’ll get to see your smile a lot more that way, too.”

Alisha also gets excited about the idea and insists that she do the same for him, so they agree to talk about their favorite things, and in the end the whole party partakes.

Story #3: A Tale About an Argument

In a shorter segment, Sorey and Alisha are arguing about some kind of misunderstanding. When Zaveid butts in and asks what they’re bickering about, Sorey pulls out the attachment plushie of Alisha, Alisha pulls out the attachment plushie of Sorey, and they both demand that Zaveid tells them if he thinks their plushie is cuter than the actual person, lmao.

Background!Edna rightfully comments that they’re both idiots.

Story #4: A Tale About Taking Shelter From the Rain

H I G H S C H O O L A U !

Sorey and Alisha are walking home from school when it starts raining, so they take shelter under a shop’s awning. He comments that they might have to stay there a while considering how heavy it's falling, and Alisha narrates that even though it could be considered an unlucky situation, "I don't think it's unlucky at all. Rather--"

Sorey then speaks up and says that they're a bit lucky, since they get to be with each other while they wait for the rain to stop. She's surprised that he was thinking the same thing she was, even as he self-consciously admits that his comment wasn't very discreet. She impulsively assures him that she's very happy to be with him, too, which flusters them both a little.

He tries to say something, but she interrupts when she notices that the rain has stopped. She suggests that they keep going, all while secretly wishing the rain would have gone on a bit longer, but Sorey stops her.

"Um... how about we take a detour on the way back?"*

"I... I'd like that!"

*(As the author's note indicates, he unconsciously uses the polite form when he says this, which is cute. lol)

Story #5: A Tale About Seeing You Vulnerable

Another smol AU story--Alisha falls asleep with her head on Sorey's shoulder as they're riding the train. Noticing how peaceful she looks, he kisses her hair and wonders out loud if he's the only guy who's seen her this unguarded. It turns out she’s awake since she answers "yes" in an embarrassed voice, which embarrasses him in turn.

A little while later, they've both fallen asleep against each other despite that the train is packed with people, lol.

Impressions:

ALL THE STORIES WERE CUTE but the first was probably my favorite (largely because Best Wingman Mikleo) followed by the rain one because I'm weak for rain tropes. c: I like how the high school costumes have contributed to so much fan content so now we just need more beach AUs, yes? yes.

This book's more on the rare side as far as buying it goes, but it was still pretty cheap when I bought it (from a JP site, anyway). A nice collection piece if you're into grabbing up everything you can (like me) and don't mind a collection of really short stories versus a single longer story.

#jay reviews doujinshi #tales of zestiria #alisha diphda #sorey #sorali #sorey x alisha #i might switch up the topic for one of the next ones #my elysia fam doujinshi are piling up #who wants some cute stuff with the nerd bros sooooon

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twelvemonkeyswere · 4 years

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AFFC - Jaime III

aka Bear Pit Pt 2: That Time Jaime Takes a Long Ride that Proves his Compassionate Nature and That He Will Defend Brienne Even If She Is Not Around or in Immediate Danger

Thoughts on Jaime / Brienne:

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

“His hand shone dully in its light. No good for throttling eunuchs, but heavy enough to smash that slimy smile into a fine red ruin. He wanted to hit someone.”

→ HA! “a fine red ruin”. Get it, huh, huh? Because Red gets ruined? HA!

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

1/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Payne was as rusty as his ringmail, and not so strong as Brienne, yet he met every cut with his own blade, or interposed his shield.”

→ We do mention a lot how Brienne constantly says ‘he ain’t Jaime tho’ but Jaime is just the same: ‘Payne ain’t Brienne but he’ll do’

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

2/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk.”

→ I’m a sucker for Jaime having Brienne’s same train of thought and thinking about her journey constantly. As others have pointed out, he is startled by his wondering and has to remind himself how ugly she is, right? The fact he wants to ask about Sansa (his vow) is nice, but the fact he also wants to ask about Brienne (his special interest), is very nice.

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

3/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“He passed beneath the covered bridge… before he realized where he was headed.”

→ Don’t fucking @ me. The bear pit is a direct, unquestionable straight line to Brienne and as soon as he gets a chance he, unbidden, goes to her memory.

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

So Bear Pit Pt 2:

““Naked? No.” He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story.”

→ Kingslayer’s whore?

“The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be amuthing. Elsewise . . .”

“. . . the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed. Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”

→ a couple of things:

what I LOVE about this moment is that Jaime is here genuinely trying to make some conversation and casually doing disrespectful impressions of the man who almost kills them and he’s actually concerned with explaining the truth and HE IS DISREGARDED by Connignton because Connington is an ass and THEN Connington disrespects his wench and it just.fucking.activates.him.

Jaime remembers the dress clear enough to describe it in material and color (this man is definitely not my father)

what was after that ‘elsewise’? ‘Elsewise, she would’ve killed it? She would’ve won? I would not have needed to jump in?’ Jaime respects (and admires!) Brienne SO FUCKING MUCH I wanna believe he was going to sing his praises here.

“That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal.”

→ He's SO OFFENDED lmao Heaven knows how much shit he talked during their walk across the Riverlands and he is like, Brienne surely would’ve mentioned something of SUCH importance but he also senses that if she DIDN’T it was because of REASONS and gosh does he make Ronnet spill the beans.

““I was the second. My father’s notion. I had heard the wench was ugly, and I told him so, but he said all women were the same once you blew the candle out.”

“Your father.” Jaime eyed Red Ronnet’s surcoat.”

→ Jaime taking notice of who Connington dad is because HE’S GONNA CUT A BITCH

→ (and also because he is trying to unravel why they would betroth Brienne to this idiot and he discovers it’s because they are poor and were going to use her to elevate his status and you can just feel his disdain, I fucking love it)

““The bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll—”

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps.”

→ the first time I read this I fucking TRANSCENDED because I wanted to smack each of Brienne’s wrongdoers myself. Jaime stood his ground as much as he could but the moment he insults Brienne with “freak” (and insults her bush, which we know he was gladly impressed by) he just fucking reacts. And my favorite bit is…

“You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

→ FIRST, Jaime hasn’t referred to Brienne internally as “wench” or anything else but Brienne in a fucking long time.

→ SECOND, this shows just how much he respects her as a woman, as a mf lady, and how much he’ll demand others will treat her as such.

→ And THIRD, it shows how much he respects her, PERIOD. We love a man who loves and respects his beloved.

Thoughts on Jaime:

Clearly even though Loras is young Jaime thinks he is worth his salt. And it’s not until Cersei brings up his gayness that Jaime doesn’t really anger. Even Cersei points out that Jaime’s “perception” of manhood has changed but I think it has to do more about Jaime respecting Loras and him self-actualizing his identity.

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

More on Cersei:

“Cersei slapped his face. / Jaime made no attempt to block the blow. “I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen’s caresses.” He wanted to rip her gown off and turn her blows to kisses.”

→ this looks terribly like conditioned behaviour because Jaime previously mentions he has to “beg” for her “affections” and that means “coaxing” her into changing that. Same thing happens when they are discussing the unmentionable knife and he sits her on his lap to stop her from being angry. which actually leads me to…

“Softer words might have swayed her, yet of late the very sight of her made him angry”

→ He balked her on purpose, though he seems to miss her somehow still (he’s horny, too) he gets angry at her and doesn’t let that impulse govern him at all. But he does allow himself to anger her because he doesn’t want to have to treat her kindly. It’s almost like he’s realizing how hateful she actually is.

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

FUCKING KILL ME BRUH

“It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them.”

→ Jaime: traumatized horse girl. Poor man.

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

Symbolism?

“Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white”

→ I’m sure this is symbolism but heck if I can put it into words. Like, it seems clear (?) they represent two sides of Jaime, the need to uphold the Lannister name (glory) and the dedicated vows of his knighthood (honor) but… that’s as far as I get.

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

Paralelism:

Jaime’s “price” for going to the Riverlands is Ilyn Payne (a counterpart to Brienne’s Pod) and Ser Addam (a person from his past, like Brienne’s Hyle). I like their parallelism. Like, they’re accompanied by someone who reminds them who they were and what they have/are becoming while on a quest caused by their vows.

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

Jaime is not stupid:

“Robb Stark took me unawares in the Whispering Wood,” he said. “That will never happen again.”

→ besides this man turns trauma into learning points.

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

Jaime cares about others:

“Jaime had given stern commands that no man was to depart the column without his leave.” → He protects the land as they go, he scoffs at the “bored lordings” who could trample and attack the stock and farms along the way.

Little Lew Piper brings blackberries, Jaime orders him to share them with the other squires and fucking Ilyn Payne.

Feeling sorry for the horse and bear.

Pia!

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

More Paralelism:

I love this bit that calls back to Jaime’s first chapter ever:

“Riding at the front of the host with Ser Ilyn silent by his side, Jaime felt almost content. The sun was warm on his back and the wind riffled through his hair like a woman’s fingers.”

→ It’s like a more toned down “alive and drunk on sunlight.”. Instead of feeling alive, he feels almost content. Instead of drunk, warm. Instead of Cersei's fingers, a woman's. And it’s about being free from a former entrapment behind enemy lines.

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

Goldenhand

“Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord,” the armorer had assured him the first time he’d fitted it onto Jaime’s wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.”

→ I swear to God if they give him the nickname AFTER he dies I’m going to fucking scream (fingers crossed he won’t die)

“The golden hand was the occasion for much admiring comment over supper, at least until Jaime knocked over a goblet of wine. Then his temper got the best of him… After that there was no more talk about his hand.”

→ These fucking people omgggg fucking bootlickers. Besides he lets the common folk/his men see him as he is but has to pretend for "polite" company. I like that the hand is almost a second thought like, Well I suppose I ought to wear the hand to dinner.

→ He also says they’ll call him ‘Goldenhand the Just’ eventually because he is willing to impart justice even to the men who served his own house (he hangs a man in Lannister red for being a bandit), and if that doesn’t show AGAIN he is willing to do the right thing if necessary… well.

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

Jaime’s shames:

“They have lusty wenches in House Hayford. These are love bites, lad.”

→ Jaime Lannister, famously monogamous, thinks a fake hickey excuse is less shameful than his shortcomings. But also he needs to appear commanding.

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

Jaime, Horsegirl (contin’d):

““These are demons in the skins of wolves, sent to chastise us for our sins.”

“This must have been an uncommonly sinful horse,” Jaime said, standing over what remained of the poor animal.”

→ this line is not just funny but shows just how much Jaime has an affinity to the innocent.

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

About Hoat:

since the description of how he died (tortured, cut up in pieces, fed his own flesh, then defiled in death) happens right before the goddamn Bear Pit Pt 2 I had completely forgotten about it. Jaime hears the tale, sees the head, and hi satisfaction at his death seems to curdle. I just like that of course, we know Jaime is not cruel. And that even though Brienne told him to “live and take revenge,” he is NOT finding pleasure in a death he might have gloated on if he were different.

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

About Pia:

“She is a font of corruption,” said Ser Bonifer…

“I expect her flaunting days are done,” he said, “but if you find her that objectionable, I’ll take her.” He could make her a washerwoman, he supposed. His squires did not mind raising his tent, grooming his horse, or cleaning his armor, but the task of caring for his clothes struck them as unmanly

→ So first, this is one of the reasons I like Jaime. He is actually very very compassionate, and actually defends Pia. Second, does this seem to suggest he would’ve personally taken care of his clothes if he had two hands? Or just that this seems like an excuse to bring her in? Also, I love how the squires will do the cleaning but draw the line at washing clothes.

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

Jaime internally calling Ser Bonifer “Baelor Butthole” is infinitely amuthing to me.

#personal #wendy rereads: affc #jb quotes #this is just so i keep track of my notes #in a handy post

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a-shameless-otome-rp-sideblog · 5 years

Text

looking for otome-based RP partners!

Hullo (hopefully future) friends! I’ve got a bit of a weird proposal.

(For anyone who saw the first one on my OTHER-OTHER side blog, this is redux, the 2.0, because that sideblog was TOO NEW to show up in tags and I am really hoping that this one shows up on this MUCH OLDER and REPURPOSED sideblog!)

ANYWAY, here blog isn’t and probably won’t ever be an RP blog. I’ve RPed on Tumblr a lot in the past (mostly in the Homestuck community, a few years back) and while doing so was a lot of fun, it was also a lot of work! Maintaining pages, bios, graphics, etc, is all stuff I seemed to have all the time in the world for a few years back, but I find I really just don’t anymore.

Unfortunately, I don’t really know where to find RP outside of Tumblr and cherubplay (thanks again, Homestuck!) either, but Cherubplay isn’t exactly the greatest for finding anything outside of just raw-doggin-it-smut-fests and while that can be, uh, fun, it’s not really what I want to focus on when I RP.

So why am I here?

DISCORD RP!!

I’m hoping to find other people who don’t really have time to run an RP blog (or who do have time, but also might be willing to dip their toes into doing it on Discord, too, assuming you aren’t already!) for some good time plotting and roleplaying!

Which I guess brings us to the meat of this whole thing… (more, of course, under the cut!)

WHAT WILL WE RP?

I’ve been real keen on otome lately and I’m really looking to play some canon boys to your MC or OC! While I’ve certainly had my fun playing girls before (mostly in WoW, or other MMORPG settings), I find I always prefer to play dudes, and (if you’d pardon this bit of arrogance!) I think I can be pretty dang good at it!

While I do occasionally ship MxM, it’s really only something I do with my best bro, so I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m really only interested in MxF pairings atm! I hope that’s okay with everyone.

COOL, BUT WHAT SERIES? WHAT CHARACTERS?!

I’d like to say I have a pretty healthy familiarity with a lot of otome, but I’m not sure I’d be the hottest at RPing them all! If it can’t be guessed by my avatar, I’m kind of on a Hakuouki kick right now, so I’m partial to that, for sure, but for ease of readability and so you can get a good idea of what I’m open to, I’ll list them in some nicely formatted order.

Hakuouki Characters

Okita :: Okita is tied for my personal favorite Hakuouki dude with Sannan, but I think I’d enjoy playing him a lot more than Sannan (which isn’t to say I wouldn’t like to play him, too!). I’ve always been partial to smirky, tease-y boys, especially when they’re struggling with confronting their feelings.

Sannan :: Sannan speaks to my love of polite but cold characters, and it’s only a bonus that he’s a megane, which I’ve also always loved! As mentioned above, he’s probably tied with Okita as favorite Hakuouki dude, but I think Okita’d be easier to play.

Kazama :: Kazama is fun because I’ve always had a love for garbage can style kidnap-and-seduce plotlines if that was your kind of thing!

Saito :: I love Saito aesthetically and his personality is pretty rad and I’d rank him as pretty up their on faves, but I admit I don’t have overmuch experience when it comes to awkward slow-to-open-up kinda boys! I’m sure we could make it work though.

Other dudes :: I’d be willing to try honestly most anyone from Hakuouki but these are the ones above are the ones I feel most confident/interested in playing! If you’d like someone else, you can most certainly ask, especially if you have some kind of plotline you’d like to see!

===

Diabolik Lovers

Oh baby, yeah I am totally into this hot hot dumpster fire!

Reiji :: As mentioned, I love megane, and Reiji’s probs my favorite of everyone in the whole dang series. Older? Check. Smart? Check. Responsible? Check. Cold? Double check. Really fucking mean? Check. Smirky? Well, in the games, yes!

Shuu :: Sorry Reiji, but I also love Shuu. I might make him just a twinge OOC because his laziness might make advancing the plot kind of headachey, but other than tht, I love this loser.

Subaru :: Subaru, contrary to his third place on this list, is probably pretty close behind Reiji for favorites. Aggressive, ill-refined, totally willing to fight everyone – I admit I tend to play the more well-spoken and calculating kind of characters more, but I’d be willing to rock Subaru for you to the best of my ability!

Ruki :: I won’t say Ruki’s my favorite of the Mukami brothers but I like him a lot and I think I’d play him well!

Everyone else except Azusa and Kou :: Spoiler: I love Azusa to death and find him adorable but I don’t really relish playing openly masochistic characters, so he’s a no go unless we can work something out! Kou is – no offense, but I just really do not like Kou. As far as the famous Sakamaki triplets go, Kanato is one of my absolute all time favorites, and I’d be willing to play him with the right person… but we all know he’s kind of an absolute nutbag, so I’m hesitant to dump that on anyone! Ayato is a staple and Laito could be… like Kanato, I think I’d have to feel pretty assured by my partner they could handle the grosser parts of his character. Open to exploring it, however!

===

Amnesia

I’m not gonna bother sectioning everyone into neat little areas cause there is so few, but Toma is my favorite (I’m a real sucker for yandere, whoops). I’d be willing to play him, of course, provided my partner was comfortable with it! I’d also be willing to do Kent (my second favorite!), Shin and maaaaaaybe Ukyo. Sorry, I didn’t really care for Ikki – not because Ikki was bad (he was actually cool!) but because fan girl route characters drive me BANANAS.

===

Other fandoms :: Hit me up and ask if you want me to try anything! I might surprise you!

===

AND SO THAT LEAVES US WITH… WHAT WILL YOU PLAY?

Honestly, I’m gonna be real with everyone here: I love roleplaying because it’s like writing fanfiction with someone else, so it’s all the fun and self indulgence of fanfiction, but better, cause ya know – someone else is doing it with you! And I’m really here for the self indulgence, so please go ham.

Yeah, you can play the MC of the game, and I’d be cool with that! But honestly, I love OCs, and I’d love to hear about and plot with your OCs. I have some ideas for potential plots (especially for Hakuouki), but I’m also open to your ideas, too, and I think a lot of plots could work best outside the confines of a pre-established MC. Also, you get to show me your drawings/face-claims/whatever for your characters, and that’s pretty rad!!

Also, as someone had asked when I tried to post this on my previously non-functional blog, I’m also open to crossovers! I’m cool even if I don’t know much about the character -- you’ll just have to pardon my ignorance.

===

So, uh… RULES? RP STYLE? ETC? SOME POORLY ORGANIZED POINTS

+ Yeah, I’m deffo 21+ so ideally you would be too, especially if there’s anything like, remotely scandalous going on! I’m not too sure I feel very comfortable RPing with anyone younger than 18, mostly just because there’d be such a big age difference between us. Rest assured it isn’t because I think I’m better than you, or being ageist! It’s mostly just for my own sense of comfort!

+ Speaking of scandalous, I don’t push hard for anything super graphic unless that’s your style because I’m very much a person who loves drowning in the emotions of “holy crap does this guy really like this lady a lot”. I tend to be over indulgent as heck when it comes to inner monologues describing just how much your character makes mine’s heart go doki-doki, so expect a lot of that. If we start heading towards fuck-making of the graphic non-fade-to-black-variety, we should deffo discuss the sorts of things you discuss before those scenes! (Kinks? I GUESS???) But, as mentioned, it’s deffo not at all on top of my list of prerogatives. We need to BUILD for that!

+ My RP style tends to be 3rd or 2nd (lmao, Homestuck) person, present tense, a couple paragraphs to “oh my god, you can shut up now”. You can write however you like, with my only request being that you be passably literate! Not like, snootily literate. You get what I mean? I hope so. ):

+ As far as activity goes, I’m also fine with the Tumblr esque style of replying whenever you get around to it! If we both happen to be on for a barrage of replies, great! If we can only get one or two out a day, also great! I’m pretty easy going, honestly.

+ I love working in universe and also going mad with AUs. Find some cute starters or AU ideas on tumblr and you wanna throw them at me? I’m always open. From vampires where there are none to school AUs to coffee shop AUs I am willing to try most things, but note: I am primarily a fan of DRAMATIC ROMANCE so keep that in mind!

+ Want some kinda crazy love triangle where your lady is pursued by not one, BUT TWO DUDES? We can probably make it happen!

+ I run the gamut from fluffy and sweet romance to angsty yandere esque stuff, so please feel free to talk to me about what kind of dude you’d like!

===

A SAMPLE OF MY STYLE:

It has been months, Okita reminds himself. It has been months, and months, and more months on top of that – almost a year, maybe a little more, even, and as he sets his teeth behind that constant wolf’s grin, he thinks to himself: You should be better than this. You should be stronger.

But for all the time he’s spent with her, it has never gotten easier. No, no – it has only ever gotten worse, and it’s particularly bad now that he’s alone with her, now that she’s so close –

“Okita-san?” Her voice rings in his ears like a few plucked notes of some delicate string instrument, and he feels his lips part, his smile all teeth. She’s paused, midway between pouring him a cup of tea, and her eyes – ever and much too familiar – meet his with a hint of shyness Okita feels guilty for relishing. “Are you okay?”

“Worried about me, mn?” He rolls his head from one shoulder to the next, halfway between a shrug and a stretch, and tries very hard to resist the urge to pull her towards him, into him, that he might catch more of the rich perfume that lingers along the line of her throat. “You shouldn’t be.”

You should, he thinks, and not without a hint of guilt, be more worried about yourself.

===

ANYWAY, IT’S LATE.

I feel like I’m missing some garbage, but I’ll probably add to this tomorrow when I inevitably remember what I forgot! If you’re interested, send me an ask or a submission or a Tumblr… DM? We can work from there with regards to exchanging contact info!

#hakuouki rp #hakuoki rp #otome rp #diabolik lovers rp #amnesia rp #ikemen sengoku rp #hakuouki #hakuoki #diabolik lovers #amnesia #ikemen sengoku #i'm sorry for all these tags i'm trying for exposure #let's be real this probably won't even work #i might have to do this on like #my main blog #or my main side blog #the horror

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alirhi · 3 years

Text

Posting for a friend

I will probably take this down later lol. I didn't write it to share - remember my post a few days ago about writing fanfiction as free therapy? That's what this was - but I sent a tiny chunk of this to a friend last night and she seemed to like it, so I figured I'd let her read the whole thing. (Friend shall remain nameless, in case she was just being polite ❤😂)

Anyway, here, if you're bored and feel like reading some awkward and weird Sebastian Stan fanfiction lmao... (and yes, I am aware that it's wildly unrealistic and 90% of what Seb says and does would never actually happen. if I'd been planning on sharing this when I wrote it, I would have put in more effort to make it less stupid XD)

She couldn't believe she was really doing this. What the hell was wrong with her? This was so not going to end well. Heart in her throat, she wandered this city she hated with a burning passion and kept a lookout for familiar landmarks. Stalking. This was officially stalking, and it was creepy and horrible. What the hell was wrong with her?!

There he was. She stopped dead in her tracks, stunned; she'd been trying to find his gym or something, the saner part of her hoping she'd find nothing and could walk away saying she'd tried. She never expected to see him walking down the street, coffee in hand. At least he didn't appear to be on the phone, or with anyone.

Tightening her grip on the object in her hands, she sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to approach him. "E-Excuse me? Mr. Stan?" He stopped, breathtaking blue eyes locked on her, and she flinched. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry to bother you, and I know this is crazy unprofessional. I'm not even in the film business in any way, I just... I'm doing a favor for my sister. She's in film school, to be a director, and she was too scared to approach you."

"You don't sound too thrilled about it, yourself."

His wry smile soothed her nerves ever so slightly and she let out a nervous giggle. "Big fan. Also a big fan of respect and boundaries, so I pretty much hate myself right now. Um. So..."

He nodded to the thing she was unconsciously crumpling in her hands. "That a script?"

"Uh-huh." Shaking violently now, she thrust it out at him and nearly wept when he took it. "I know it's beyond a pipe dream, I just... I promised her I'd try, and... Well, it'd mean the world to us both if you would even bother reading it. The super pipe dream is... is you starring in it. As Ben."

Still smiling awkwardly, Sebastian was flipping absently through the pages. "Contact info in here?"

She nodded. "Hers; it's on the inside of the front cover."

He handed it back, smile widening when she began to quietly panic. "Add yours. I want you to act as her agent; this took guts. I'll let you know what I think, okay?"

"For real?" Quickly scribbling her name and phone number under her sister's information, she stammered, "M-mulțumesc!" Then she caught herself and cringed. "I'm sorry. I probably mangled that, I-"

"You speak Romanian?!"

She stole a glance at his beautiful face and immediately melted at the puppy-dog excitement there. With another nervous laugh, she admitted, "No. I've been trying to learn it, but not much has sunk in yet."

Sebastian chuckled, taking the script back and glancing at the cover. "Well, then I appreciate the effort even more, Ali. Nice to meet you. I'll let you know, okay?"

"I'll only be eagerly staring at my phone like a crazy person."

They both laughed and Ali turned to walk away before she could humiliate herself any further - though, she didn't think there was a new low to reach after driving five hours to stalk a stranger - when Sebastian stopped her with a gentle, "Hey." When she turned back to face him, he smiled, expression somewhere between tender and sly. "Why did you do this? Aside from her being your sister, what's your connection to all this?"

"What, I can't just be a good sister?" She laughed at the look on his face and blushed. "I never do anything. Smart or dumb, safe or risky... I just... I do nothing. I work, and if I'm lucky, I sleep. I guess I just wanted to be able to say I did something, even if it was stupid and crazy and, let's face it, really creepy. And I really am sorry for stalking you and disrupting your day. Thank you for not immediately calling the cops."

"Don't be so hard on yourself." He held up the script, grinning at her. "What started out super creepy turned out to actually be kinda sweet. I hope your sister knows how much you love her."

"She knows how much I love you." She'd muttered it under her breath, or thought she had. Apparently Sebastian had bat ears, because he turned pink and laughed. "...Sorry."

He shook his head. "I love you, too. I love all my fans."

"Wonder boy, you are perfect." That got another laugh out of him, and knowing her luck would run out soon if she didn't quit while she was ahead, she waved, wished him well, and fled.

The fact that she'd just met Sebastian fucking Stan kept her buzzing like a bumblebee in a jar for for the rest of the day. She nearly exploded with joy when he called her the next morning.

She almost ignored it out of habit; she never answered the phone if she didn't recognize the number. Then, kicking herself for her absurd optimism, on the off chance that it was him, she answered.

"Hey, it's Sebastian." As if she didn't know his voice! Her heart stopped, lodged itself in her throat again, and she just barely managed to choke out an awkward grunt by way of greeting. "So, I just finished the script, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to meet up for lunch to discuss it?"

Holy. Shit. She cleared her throat, but it didn't help much. "Uh... when?"

"Does around one or two work?"

"Today?!" Her eyes bugged, and then she realized she'd never told him where she was from and she laughed. "Um. It might have to be a bit later than that. I'm in Massachusetts."

"You drop off work for me and then just take off?" His tone was obviously teasing, and she smiled. "What the hell is that about? You're a crap agent!"

"I live in Massachusetts, dude! I had to go home and feed my cats."

He went from teasing to stunned in a heartbeat. "You mean you drove all the way down to New York to spend five minutes talking to me, and then drove all the way back?"

"Yep. I did mention that I'm a crazy person."

"Apparently!" He chuckled, and the sound warmed her heart. "It seems cruel to make you drive all the way back down here again when you just got home."

"I don't mind," she was quick to assure him. "I just need a little more time to get there, is all. It's a five-hour drive, not..." She glanced at the clock; it was eleven. "...Two."

"Alright, dinner then!" He still sounded somewhat dubious, but they made plans to meet up for dinner around six to give her some extra time in case of traffic, and hung up. Then Ali entered Panic Mode as she scrambled around the room trying to make herself presentable in a hurry.

It took until she was pulling onto the final road for her to realize the address Sebastian had texted to her wasn't in NYC; it wasn't even in New York. He was meeting her at a restaurant in CT. She'd been so distracted by the 'oh holy shit' of it all that she hadn't been paying much attention when she copied it into her phone's GPS.

"I figured you might be more comfortable out here," he explained with a smile when he showed up shortly after she did. When she reached out to shake his hand, he took hers and leaned down, kissing her cheek. "You don't strike me as the big city type."

"Not at all," she agreed with a laugh, trying not to blush as they settled in their seats. The script - now curled and spiked with little tabs and scraps of paper - sat on the table by his hand. Fighting the urge to sink into herself, she forced herself to ask, "So what did you think? Looks like you have some notes."

Sebastian smiled somewhat bashfully. "Oh, no. Well... kind of. My first run through, I marked scenes and lines that stood out to me, so I could pay extra attention when I went back over it. The 'notes' are mostly just my dorky comments."

"...Like...?"

His shy smile turned into a playful grin. "Let's order first. I'm starving!"

She absolutely hated eating in front of people, hot guys especially, but she didn't want to be weird and just watch him eat while she sipped water or something, either. Desperately praying that they'd both be too distracted by talking about work for her to be self-conscious, she scanned the menu for something cheap and simple.

"When's the last time you actually went on a date?" When her head snapped up and she gaped at him, Sebastian laughed. "I'm not saying that's what this is. I'd have been very clear and up front about it if I was asking you out. I just mean, you somehow look even more uncomfortable than you did yesterday, and you're looking at the prices before you even look at what the food actually is. I just figured you're not used to being treated to dinner."

"You never said you were treating," she pointed out with an awkward giggle. "I'm poor, and so is everyone I know. I always look at the prices first." Under no circumstances would she tell this man that she hadn't been on a "proper" date... ever, really.

"I don't even want to think about how much gas you burned through, driving down to New York and back in one day, and then coming down to Connecticut today." He laughed and shrugged. "I figured paying for dinner was the least I could do."

The least you could do? she thought, a little dismayed. Not having your stalker arrested or slapped with a restraining order is already more than most would do!

"Did I lose you somewhere?"

Jolted out of her thoughts, Ali blushed. "No, sorry. I just..." She stared at him, lost in those big blue eyes she loved so much. "You're not fake. Not that I thought you were! I just mean... Gods, you really are just the nicest guy in the world!"

Sebastian laughed. "For buying you food?"

"For giving a shit. You don't know me; I did something unforgivably creepy and invasive yesterday, and I feel like most people would be running full-tilt the other way, but here you are, actually sitting down and talking to me."

"If I can't handle being stopped on the street now and then, I'm in the wrong line of work."

Okay, she had to give him that one; but still... "If you love what you do, you're never in the wrong line of work. I don't believe for a second that you 'signed up' to have your time off disrupted by strangers, or to be constantly surrounded by people all demanding things from you."

With a grin, he teased, "Maybe that's why I want to give you a chance. You didn't demand; you asked, very nicely, and apologized for turning up out of the blue. And you're forgiven, by the way, so can we put that to rest?"

Ali blushed again, staring down at the table. "...Yeah. Of course. Um... Thank you."

"Ali, I like that you're honest; that you know when you've fucked up, you own up to it, and you apologize. That's... that's a good quality. And as for this fuck up..." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift the somewhat mangled script and risked a glance up at him. He was grinning. "You've got my attention. The question is, what are you going to do with it?"

Down to business, then. Bracing herself against her own anxiety, she sat back and looked him right in the eye. "That depends largely on you. It's basically a student film written to be a full-length movie. Amelia's still in school; I don't know if she's even been taught how to secure funding yet, and networking isn't her strongest skill. That's why she sent the script to me to try to get things in motion. Believe it or not, my anxious, neurotic ass is the one better with people, at least in a professional capacity."

Sebastian stared at her, wide-eyed. "...Wow. You're...eloquent. Where the hell did this come from?"

Snorting, she flashed him a quick smile. "You got me through the 'oh god I'm such a pest' meltdown. Now it's work time. I've got a fair bit of attachment to this project; her screenplay was based on a comment I made and a few lines of dialogue I sent her-"

"So this was your idea?"

"Both of ours." Ali had no interest in being a screenwriter, so while her ego wanted credit for her contribution, she downplayed it, instead. "Anyway, I'm invested, and not just because I want to support my sister. The thing is, I may be better with people, but I'm nobody; I know nothing about this industry." With a wry smirk, she added, "Except just enough to know that I'm doing this whole thing ass-backwards, but whatever. Now, what did you think of it? Plot, characters, whatever comes to mind."

"The first thing that caught my eye was this little list in the beginning." He flipped the cover open, pointing to where the 'dream cast' the girls had discussed was listed and grinned while Ali blushed all over again. "I've never worked with Avan Jogia, but I wouldn't mind making out with him. His lips look really soft."

She wanted to crack up at that, but settled for a muffled snort, instead. "They do, don't they?"

"So, have you spoken-" He stopped when she shook her head, and he gave her a patient smile. "This is it for progress so far, isn't it? Just having the script at all, and talking to me."

"Which is more than I honestly expected," she admitted with a nod. "I mean, I have faith that if it can somehow get made, it'll be amazing, but right now that's all we've got, is faith."

The grin was back, even as Sebastian dropped his gaze back to the screenplay in his hands. "Faith and a very funny script so full of fandom nods it would never work without exactly who you want in each role."

"...You noticed that, huh?"

It was his turn to snort with amusement. "Kinda hard not to. You dressed Ben as army-Bucky. If we do this wrong, Marvel might sue."

"We?"

The 'duh' look he gave her made her laugh. "What? You thought I dragged you all the way down here to tell you I'm not interested? The Halloween party alone had me laughing until I cried." With another glance at the page, he added, "It helps that I know most of these guys. If you can get me a digital copy of this, I can send it along and see how many of them I can prod into helping. Hopefully my manager can reach out to Avan and Elliot. I can probably get hold of Mark on instagram..."

"That would be amazing." She couldn't believe how well this was going. The more they talked, the more clear it became that Sebastian was really into it, and his excitement made her giddy. They talked for hours; Ali was so distracted by the deep dive they took into the characters and the story that not only did she forget to be self-conscious about eating, but she even forgot to spazz internally about the fact that she was talking to her hero and biggest celebrity crush.

The restaurant had a bar attached, so it was open pretty late. By the time they realized how long they'd been sitting there, it was midnight.

"You are not driving four hours alone, not right now," he insisted as he walked her to her car. "Let me at least get you a room in the city."

Ali smiled, touched by his concern. "I'm fine, I promise. If I get too tired, I can always pull over and take a nap in my car."

"It is insane to me that you're so casual about driving, like, what? Three, four states over? Just to sit here with me for a couple of hours."

"Do you not know who you are?" she half-joked, laughing. "And for the record, I don't give a flying fuck that you're famous. I care that you're kind; you're warm and open and patient in a world that works so hard to crush all of those qualities. You're a hero to me, not because of the spotlight, but because of who you continue to be in spite of it." He looked like he was getting a little misty-eyed and flustered, so to lighten the mood, she added, "When Sebastian fucking Stan invites you to dinner, distance be damned! You go to dinner!"

He still turned adorably red, but he laughed, so she considered that mission accomplished. "At least call me when you get in so I know you're safe?"

"It'll be like four in the morning," she pointed out gently, "and that's if I don't stop for a nap."

"I'll be up, trust me." At her dubious look, he crossed his arms and playfully stared her down. "In about two seconds I'm just gonna take you home with me so I know you won't die on the road."

"I wouldn't say 'no' to that!" The second the words were out of her mouth, she cringed so hard she had to squeeze her eyes shut. Sebastian was laughing again, so that was a small comfort.

"Oh, is that what you've been angling for this whole time?"

She could tell from his tone that he was just kidding, but she was still quick to tell him 'no.' Then her mouth and her weird sense of humor got away from her again. "I mean, you're gorgeous and I want your babies, but that's beside the point."

"Oh god!" He was cracking up now, and she couldn't even tell if he was genuinely amused, or just really uncomfortable.

"Jesus, I really have to get away from you, right now!" Shaking her head, she started digging through her bag for her keys. "We're done with work, which means Fangirl Mode has reactivated, and that's good for no one!"

"No, I think you need to stick around." He smiled softly when she glanced up at him, eyes seeming to see right through her. "You're really always honest, even if the truth humiliates you beyond bearing. That's incredible. Are you just incapable of lying? Did a little kid make a birthday wish about you or something?"

Oh gods, she'd almost forgotten he was a huge Jim Carrey fan. "If they did, it was for a lot longer than a day!" His intense, if oddly tender, scrutiny was starting to make her feel things best left buried and she hastily looked away. "Could you please stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Tears stinging her eyes, she glanced into his and then quickly away again. "Like I've got a chance. I know that's not-"

He cut her off with a soft kiss, shocking her into silence, and then gave her the saddest little smile she'd ever seen. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Don't do this to me." She shook her head, feeling as though she was shrinking in on herself. "I can't be the thing that fucks this whole thing up for my sister when it all goes to shit between us. I can't!"

"That's a rather bleak outlook on the entire situation. I don't know whether to be more offended by your lack of faith in my ability to be professional, or the fact that we're not even together and you're already seeing a breakup."

"I'm a lot to handle," she pointed out with a pathetic attempt at a smirk. "An unmedicated mess. Nobody likes me for long."

Sebastian scowled, reaching up to wipe her tears off her cheeks. "Least of all you, it sounds like."

"Sebastian, you don't understand." Though all she wanted was to fall into his arms and never move again, she broke away and backed up a few steps. "I have been shit to her, and this movie means too much to me and her career means too much to her, and I can't keep ruining everything for us both!"

"You don't do anything." He grabbed her by her upper arms to hold her in place and keep her from moving any farther away from him. "You told me yesterday that you never do anything. Ali... Ali!" When she wouldn't look at him, he shook her; lightly, but enough to startle her into looking him in the eye. "Do something."

She shook her head, closing her eyes as if that would help; as if his beautiful face wasn't already burned forever in her mind. "I can't. I can't. I know too much about you, it's creepy!"

"Okay, let's make it fair, then." She could actually hear his grin. "Tell me the creepiest thing you know about me, and then match it with something about you."

Ali couldn't help laughing at that. "Actually, the creepiest fact for me to know actually came to me in the least creepy way." Involuntarily, she glanced at his crotch, and then quickly back up just in time to see him blush.

"You've seen Monday."

"And everyone who has knows you're not circumcised," she pointed out with a mostly awkward laugh. "Which honestly didn't surprise me, seeing as how you're from Europe and aren't Jewish, so why would you be? ...I don't really know how to 'match' that one."

"If we weren't standing out in a parking lot I could be a total asshole and say you can strip down and let me see you naked." He laughed when she turned bright red and swatted his chest. "But that seems like a bit much. Um... well, that's sort of a body modification, right? So do you have any risque piercings or tattoos?"

She shook her head, giggling. "No. No tattoos at all yet, and the only piercings so far are my ears. There's a bunch that I want, but I haven't gotten around to it."

"You know what? Gimme your phone." He grinned when she handed it right over, clearly not realizing that it was confusion that prompted the move, more than trust. A few seconds later, her GPS was talking as he handed it back. "I'll meet you there."

"Please tell me you're not-" She glanced down and cringed. "You are. You're making me drive in New York City."

"You could always just ride with me and I can bring you back in the morning for your car."

"Oh hell no! I'll meet you there! ...Wherever 'there' is."

'There' turned out to be a rather classy-looking brick apartment building in Manhattan. Unable to process what that likely meant - there was no way! - Ali squashed the thought down and ignored it, simply focusing on finding a place to park. That alone was a Herculean task.

"I can't believe you made me drive a RAV4 through New York!" she playfully snapped as she got out and approached his little sports car.

Sebastian laughed. "I can't believe you drive a RAV4! You're so tiny!"

"I'm only four inches shorter than you, Tank."

"I'm not a tank..." He glanced down at himself, looking adorably confused. "Am I a tank? I kind of was for Civil War, but that was years ago."

"Mmm..." Feeling bold, she draped her arms over his shoulders, smiling when his hands moved automatically to her waist. "You're lean, but you still look like you could bench me with one hand. I don't like the big, veiny Dwayne Johnson types, anyway. Don't get so bogged down in what Hollywood wants you to be; you're perfect, Sebastian."

"Wow." He grinned, pulling her closer. "You're good for my ego!" With a playful nip to her neck, he started backing her toward the door. "Yep. Definitely sleeping with you. Come on."

Ali laughed as he finally released her waist and took her hand instead, and she followed him inside. "Do I get a say in this, Casanova?"

"I said I was gonna sleep with you," he mock-growled, face buried against her neck again, "not rape you. Get in here."

She giggled when, apparently deciding she was moving too slowly, he yanked her inside and into his arms, kicking the door shut behind her. "Sebastian... Sebastian!" All she wanted was to let him keep being silly and flirty, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to make a mistake. "You are incredibly charming. You are. And my god I want you so bad it hurts!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem..." She framed his face with her hands, letting him kiss her before pushing him back. "The problem is that I'm your fan, and I hunted you down like a crazy person-"

"And I forgave you for that."

"That's sweet, and I appreciate that. And that's not the point. The point is, I did that to work with you."

"No," he pointed out with a smirk, "you did that to get me to work with your sister. I made you stay stuck in the middle because you're really pretty and I'm really lonely and you kinda seem somehow even lonelier than me."

"You're not wrong..."

"Ali, listen. Relax." Mirroring her pose in a weird way, he framed her face with his hands and smiled when she turned her head to kiss his palm without thinking. "Whatever happens, it's not gonna happen tonight. It never was; I was just being goofy. It's late and I'm old; I'm tired."

"You're not old-"

He kissed her quiet. "I'm too old to be fucking a twenty-year-old at one in the morning. I brought you here because we were spending an awkwardly long time in that parking lot, and-what?" He grinned, watching her lose her shit, and she pressed her face against his chest. "Why are you laughing?"

"I love you!" She hugged him, still giggling helplessly. "You really think I'm only twenty?"

"Around there, yeah. Why?"

"Dude, I'm thirty-four!"

"No way." He gaped at her and then grinned, shaking his head. "No way!"

Still giggling helplessly, she nodded. "We're only five years apart, man."

"Got a painting in your attic I should know about?"

"No!" Oh god she couldn't breathe! "Just good genes. And I don't drink or smoke."

"Wow. Wow!" Sebastian laughed, pulling her down with him as he sat on the couch. "I feel so called out right now!"

"Not my intent, Smoogie-OHMYGOD!" She'd been about to cuddle him but the second she realized what she'd said, she launched herself off his lap, red-faced and laughing hysterically.

"What? What was that?" Laughing almost as hard as she was, Sebastian yanked her back down onto the couch. "What did you just call me?" Pinning her in place, he tickled her mercilessly as she screeched and howled with laughter.

"I'm sorry! It slipped!"

"What the hell is a Smoogie?!"

"Nothing!" He finally let up, and she gasped and wheezed, gulping in lungfuls of air like he'd been strangling her. "It... It literally has no meaning," she rasped. "It's just a random made-up word I used once out of nowhere and I guess it kinda stuck in my brain."

Sebastian snorted and helped her sit up. "Like 'winter's children.' Alright, the brain is a weird, weird place. I get that." With a grin, he nudged her and added, "Smoogie."

"Nooo!" Giggling, Ali pushed him back. "You're Smoogie! Come up with your own dumbass nickname." Eyes wide as she thought back to some of the weird shit that she'd heard come out of his mouth in the past, she hastily amended, "Better yet, don't."

"Oh, no." He hugged her tight. "No, no, no. Challenge fucking accepted! I'm gonna give you the single most embarrassing nickname you've ever heard of!"

She groaned, but it quickly turned into laughter. "At least fuck me first, so when I die of embarrassment, I can die somewhat happy!"

"Oh, so now you want it?"

They grinned at each other right before Ali hid her face against his chest. "I always did, I just don't think it'd be smart."

"Tell you what..." He pushed her back a bit, just enough to duck his head and kiss her. "Let's get some sleep, and see how things stand in the morning. That'll also give you time to think about this:" Those warm, soft hands were back on her jaw and she found herself lost in his gorgeous blue eyes. "My interest in that script has nothing to do with my interest in you. Your sister wrote a funny movie, and had it come to me through my manager, I'd still want in. You are beautiful and vibrant and honest, and my god, I'm into you! Completely separate things, and neither has any influence over the other."

"Promise?" Tears blurred her vision, but not enough to hide his soft smile from her. "I mean-"

He kissed her quiet and stood, pulling her with him. "Come to bed. We can talk about it in the morning. I just... I know I shouldn't be this overprotective of a total stranger, but I couldn't deal with the thought of you possibly crashing and dying on the way home tonight. I don't like people driving tired."

"You're so sweet it hurts." She grinned, but it quickly faded as it registered that he was pulling her into his bedroom, and she planted her feet. "I can just crash on the couch."

"What? Don't trust me to be a gentleman?"

It was obvious that he was just teasing her, but she still was quick to assure him, "No, I trust you. I just..." She sighed. "Oh, to hell with it. It's not like there's anywhere to go but up after literal stalking. I don't want to be a one-night-stand or fuck buddies or whatever. I don't want 'something casual'. Maybe some women are fine with just, like, the bragging rights of fucking a celebrity or something, but that's not me. I don't give a rat's ass that you're famous; I really don't."

"Yeah, you said that earlier. So what do you want?" He gave her a wry, tired smile. "And why can't it wait until after sleep?"

"I'm sorry!" Despite her rather bleak mood, Ali giggled a little before hastily getting to the point: "I want to be your girlfriend, but for many reasons, I'm not optimistic about the chances of that happening. And falling asleep in your arms, or even in your bed at all, is just..."

"Ah." With a nod, Sebastian released her hand and stepped back. "I'll get you a blanket."

She couldn't help it; when he came back and tossed a blanket on the end of the couch, she grinned and said, "Anthony's gonna be so jealous."

"Anthony Mackie has never been in my house!" They both laughed, and then Sebastian gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead before disappearing into his bedroom with a soft, "Goodnight, Ali."

"Night, Seb."

The couch was surprisingly comfortable, but Ali still couldn't sleep. On top of the discomfort of being in someone else's home for the first time, she was too busy spiraling over what a fucking idiot she was. If she didn't stop getting in her own way, she was going to end up pushing Sebastian away completely; something told her she didn't have long before he'd get sick of her constantly grasping for excuses to keep some professional distance between them. Would her desperate desire to not ruin things by sleeping with him end up ruining things by annoying the hell out of him?

Eventually she passed out from sheer exhaustion near dawn, and woke sometime later to the soft murmur of a familiar voice. At first she thought she'd left a video going on her laptop or something, but then as she sucked in a deep breath and stretched, the previous night floated back to her along with a lungful of Sebastian's scent and the weird realization that she actually knew what he smelled like now.

As awareness reluctantly returned to her, she realized Sebastian was on the phone in the other room and, blessing the natural softness of his voice, did her best to tune him out. Not her business. Instead she sat up and started playing with her phone, checking messages and jumping into another youtube rabbit hole.

"You know, I'm right here." Startled by the very amused voice right behind her, she whirled around and answered his grin with one of her own. "You don't have to look me up on the internet."

"You were on the phone," she pointed out, even as she dropped hers into her purse, "and you're funny as hell on press tours."

"I was on the phone with your sister." He sank down onto the couch beside her, and without thinking she snuggled up against his side, smiling when his arm dropped over her shoulders. "It took me thirty minutes to convince her I'm really me and it wasn't a prank. Not a very trusting woman, that one."

Ali laughed. "Did she spend the next thirty minutes after that hyperventilating?"

"No, she held it together pretty well after that. Very giggly, but we managed to say what needed to be said." She felt him shift and glanced up to see him staring down at her. "You didn't tell me she was in Florida."

"...Oops." She flashed him a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"It's fine; doesn't really change things, it was just a surprise. Now..." He shifted, and she took her cue to scoot back a bit so they could look at each other more easily. "Shall we be grownups and talk about last night?"

About half a dozen childish jokes were on the tip of her tongue, but she pushed them all down with a deep sigh and nodded. "I suppose we should."

"Tell me why you think you have no chance." He crossed his arms, staring her down and making her feel about two inches tall. "I don't want to get fifteen minutes into a conversation and feel like you're just grasping at straws to drive me insane. Get it all out."

"Jeez, no pressure or anything," she grumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I don't have a neat, itemized list of everything that's wrong with me. That's not how my brain works. If I miss or forget something and think of it later, and you're just gonna make me feel like a bug for opening my mouth, why don't I just leave now and save us both the headache?"

"I can't tell if you're being frustrating on purpose for some reason, or if you're just the single most insecure person to ever walk the planet."

Oh, so many snarky comebacks were bouncing around in her head, but once again she squashed the impulse to be childish and just shook her head. "I'm sorry. Neither, really, I just... I have this really annoying habit of pushing people away so I'm never vulnerable and I can never get hurt."

"How's that working out for you?"

Ass. She looked away, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her head on them. "We've all got damage. Sue me."

"You're never going to find someone who'll put in the work to fix you. You gotta do that yourself. If you keep pushing people away hoping one will try to take a jackhammer to all these walls you put up, you'll just be constantly disappointed."

"What are you, my shrink now?" She jerked her head up to glare at him, but the intense look on his face stopped her cold.

With a look that reminded her quite a bit of the Winter Soldier, Sebastian demanded quietly, "What do you want, Ali?"

"...I don't know." She looked away again, hiding behind the curtain of her long copper-red hair. "You don't even know how terrifying that is. I always knew! I knew who I was, who and what I wanted to be... Now, I just... I have no idea."

"You should try acting." His tone was only half joking but she still snorted. "What? You get to try on different lives, and maybe you'll find one that suits you. Who knows?" He nudged her, making her smile a little. "Maybe you'll find that you love the work, and it's your new calling. Whaddaya got to lose?"

"People don't start acting in their thirties."

"Well, that's utter bullshit." She glanced up just in time to see his cheeky grin. "And you don't look anywhere near thirty, so I say cash in on that while you can. But! I wasn't actually asking the deep life question when I asked what you want."

"I know," she admitted with a sheepish shrug. "I got sidetracked by existential dread. Sorry."

"Happens to the best of us."

Ali grinned, shaking her head, but her amusement didn't last long. With a sigh, she told him, "The sad fact is, I don't know. I don't know if I want a relationship, or if I just don't want to feel like a whore. The juvenile fangirl in me wants to make you happy; to be in your life no matter what form that connection takes. And I'm lonely and antsy, and definitely attracted to you..."

"This all sounds like a good start," he said with a soft laugh. "And it doesn't sound juvenile to me; it's sweet."

"There is one thing I do know that I want." Hoo boy, this was not going to end well. Damn her psychotic obsession with honesty! "One thought-one desire, I guess - that haunts me." She was afraid to look at him, but she needed to see his reaction. Steeling herself against her own anxiety, she looked him right in the eye and confessed, "More than anything in the world right now, I want to be a mother. It's freaking me out, because I never wanted kids until very recently, but for the last couple of years it's been practically consuming me."

He was analyzing her again; if it was anyone else, it would have pissed her off royally, but all she could think of was 'bionic staring machine' and she had to fight not to laugh. "I wonder why that is."

"Oh, I know exactly why." She finally gave in and snickered a little. "But if I tell you, you're gonna think I'm insane."

"I already know you're insane," he teased, "so just tell me anyway."

"I'm a witch," she told him point-blank. "I sometimes get little glimpses of possible futures. I've seen my future daughters, and they've become so real to me, so vibrant and full of life, that I'm desperate to meet them for real."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "What if you end up having a boy?"

"I've seen that possibility, too," she conceded with a laugh. "He's adorable. These kids... Sebastian, I've seen their faces. I know their names. And every day that goes by that they don't exist is more painful for me than the last. And that's... That's a huge part of why I didn't - still don't - think it would be a good idea to sleep with you. Why I'd feel like a trashy whore if I did."

He slowly nodded, understanding visibly dawning in his eyes. "Because you want too badly to get pregnant. More than you want to be with me; with anyone."

"Yeah. And I have yet to think of a way to go about that without being just... so creepy, or straight-up evil."

"...This." At her look of surprise and confusion, he made a little nod/shrug gesture she couldn't quite describe. "This is the way to not be creepy or evil - being honest, up front. Talking it out. You may not necessarily get what you want, but if you do, this is absolutely the way to do it respectfully."

She smiled and nodded. "Good point."

He ruffled her hair, making her smile again. "You've got a lot going on in that head of yours. Must be exhausting."

"It can be."

"You're an absolute mess, no doubt about that." He nudged her with that boyish, playful grin she loved so much. "But I still like you. Start as friends, see how it goes?"

Heart swelling, she nodded. "I'd love that."

There was a moment of weirdly charged silence, and then Ali blurted, "I do have one question I've been dying to ask you for months, though."

"Oh god." He laughed. "Should I be scared?"

"Maybe," she conceded with a giggle. "I won't be offended or even surprised if you refuse to answer, let me just lead with that. It's personal, I'm just curious."

"Okay, so it's not a request, per se."

She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, not a request. I was just wondering, after seeing Monday-"

"Oh no!" Cracking up, Sebastian backed away. "Any 'personal' question that starts with a reference to Monday can't be good!"

"And the set shots for Pam and Tommy!" She had a feeling she was going to have trouble breathing around this man a lot. He always had her cracking up. "You had so little body hair, but I know it grows! I've seen you with hair on your chest - which was unbelievably sexy, by the way - so, like... is that just a thing you do in recent years? Do you always get that in-depth with your grooming, or is it just when you know you'll be showing a lot of skin in public?"

"Obviously it's just when I know someone's gonna see!" He laughed, shaking his head. "I mean, do you shave your legs when you're not gonna show them off?"

"Yes." Grinning at his look of surprise, she shrugged. "My skin is so stupidly sensitive that body hair makes me unbearably itchy, all the time. I eradicate that shit constantly."

"Oh, okay." He nodded a little. "So for you, it's not an aesthetic choice, it's for a good reason and really is just for yourself. That makes sense." It was his turn to shrug and grin. "I'm just shallow. If I'm gonna be naked on screen, I wanna look good."

"You're gorgeous, you're allowed to be shallow."

"Is that how that works?" They both laughed, and much to Ali's immediate, overwhelming joy, Sebastian tugged her against his side and squeezed in a sort of half-hug. "That seems like an unfair standard. And I'm not sure I still fit that bill at my age."

"Oh, stop!" She swatted his chest, even as she rested her head on his shoulder and cuddled closer.

"By the way..." He kissed her temple, lips still pressed against her flesh as he murmured, "I know you wrote that script."

Flinching, she tried to move away from him; she only wanted to be able to look at him, but he seemed to misinterpret and held her tight against his side.

"Your sister confirmed it, but I figured it out last night. You know way too much about this story and the characters to just be a messenger." She felt him smile as he kissed her head again, and couldn't help smiling with him. "You're brilliant. I hope little sis is half as good a director as you are a writer."

"...Thank you." What the hell else could she say to that? All she could really think about, folded in his arms and feeling so warm and safe, was that he was already an amazing friend. She'd known for a while that he approached friendship in a way more typical to women, with the cuddling and constant complimenting; the sort of wholesome, deep love-without-romance that was exactly how she was as a friend. It was amazing to be on the receiving end of that, and while her hormones would probably always scream to jump his bones, she hoped things stayed exactly as they were between them.

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