#companies stepping up to support new and unexpected parents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 3 years

Text

What true love feels like - final part | Tom Felton imagine

I’M NOT CRYING, YOU ARE! Just kidding, I’m sobbing like a kid who’s candy was taken away. Excuse me for the grammar mistakes, I could barely see through my tears, writing this. But here it is, the final part for the mini series. I really hope you guys liked it. Thank you so much for the support!

Word count: 4275

Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader

Note: For the best readen experience, I suggest you to listen the song Everyday I love you by Boyzone (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QQQKJJBJOY) I’ll let you know when to start playing it!

Tag list: @abrunettefangirlnerd ; @youknowiloveyou-so; @the-girl-who-drew; @thescaletknight2014; @lil5sosbetch; @pipppaaaaalouisee; @mysticskeletonfireherring

You can find the previous chapters right here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*Tom’s POV*

Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that made me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheet blind love, but it definitely made me believe in something. And it was true love.

I spent the last two weeks with sitting by my phone, waiting for her to call or text me. I even went to see her at the lake house, but I could never make myself to get out of my car and knock on the door. I knew her better than that. She had to be alone and away from everyone and everything. So, even if it literally killed me, not hearing from her, I was more than willing to mop around my house and wait. Why? Because I deep down in my heart I knew that I was waiting for something great.

So when I opened my door in the middle of the night, and saw her standing there, I knew it was worth it. She was there. Smiling slightly and shyly at me, like it was the first time we met each other. And in a way it was the first time. The first time before a new chapter. A whole new adventure.

If it were up to me, I’d have married her right there. I’d have started my life with her. We’d have gone out and buy that piece of land I wanted so badly, built our dream house. We’d have had sex, cuddled by the fireplace and eat breakfast together in the morning. Go to work, and rush to get home just we could see each other. Eventually have a dozen of babies, and fight over whose parents we were naming them after. Buy another dog, so Willow wouldn’t feel alone. Celebrate our 10 years anniversary. Get in those bad fights, but make up after a day or so. Continue to surprise each other, watch the sunset from our front porch every now and then. Watch out babies graduate and start their lives. Retire. Meet our grandchildren. Hold each other every night and never forget the love that started this all. If it were up to me, I would have started that adventure with her right then.

I couldn’t say a word. I just kept looking and her beautiful face. Admiring how amazingly good she looked without any makeup on. She was a woman who wasn’t afraid to show her imperfections. And I loved that fact that I could be by her side through that long and painful journey. The journey where she learnt to finally love herself. Truly.

“So you chose me?” I finally asked the dumbest question ever. She was standing right in front of me. But I had to hear her saying it. I needed to.

“Yeah, you. It will always be you, don’t you get it? If I had the choice between you and a million things I’ve always wanted, I would choose you every single time” she said slowly, so I could fully understand her. And in that moment, I was the happiest man on Earth.

There’s a moment between a glance and a kiss. Where the world stops for the briefest of times. And the only thing between us is anticipation of her lips on mine. A moment so intense it hands in the air as it pulls us closer. A moment, so perfect that when it comes to and end we realize it’s only just the beginning. So I grabbed her by the neck and kissed her. Just kissed her so deep she forgot whose air she was breathing. Her kissed melted me like no one else ever had and I just wanted her to know how much I loved her.

“Come on in” I smiled at her after our lips finally parted “I wasn’t the only one who missed you”

I took her hand in mine and pulled her in the house. Willow was already sitting by the bottom of the stairs, patiently waiting to finally be able to see our guest. When I stepped out of her way and she saw Y/N kneeling down and calling out her name, she wasted to time and ran into her arms.

“Hey, girl” Y/N tried to keep Willow away from her face, but my doggie was too happy to finally see her again. She licked her face and hands and jumped on her. I didn’t blame her. I wanted to keep kissing and hugging her. But I knew she needed to talk to me, so I made my way to the kitchen and started to prepare our cups of tea, and gave them time to enjoy each other company for a while.

“I see you kept that terrible painting” she said from behind me. I look at her above my shoulders to see her pointing to the honestly terrible painting on the wall. I chuckled at the memory of her being blindfolded, sitting in front of the canvas and holding the brush in her hand, waiting for me to give her the instructions. We painted it on our little weekend getaway in Rome. Aaron was away for almost a month, so we could do anything we wanted. I remember how stressed she had been because of her final thesis, so after she turned it in, I surprised her with that little trip.

“Tom, wait” she laughed behind me as she tried to catch up. We just had a romantic candle light dinner at the small local restaurant. Beside us, there was only two other couple, enjoying the delicious Italian pasta with a bottle of amazing wine next to the scented candles and the red and white tablecloth. We already had a bottle of wine, but we drank one more after dessert as well. After we paid, I had a great idea, I was just hoping I could find the right shop still open to buy the equipment.

“Hurry up, baby” I called after her “We don’t have much time and I’m sure it’s going to be raining in a couple of minutes”

I told her to wait for me outside of the shop and quickly bought everything I need for my plan. I had always wanted to do this with someone, but never had the chance to do it. I wanted to do it with someone who I knew was going to enjoy it. And I knew for sure Y/N was type who liked the most unexpected and cliché things.

I grabbed her hand and basically dragged her with me. I was full with energy and the night was still young. There were a lot of things in my mind. Like my little plan, maybe another bottle of wine, and sweet love making with her in the candle lit living room.

“Alright, Felton” she stopped in front of me when we entered our rented flat “Tell me what you have in mind!”

“Go and put on a shirt you don’t mind ruining” I smiled at her and put down the bag on the kitchen counter. She just shook her head and turned around to go and get changed. I couldn’t keep my hand to myself, so softly and teasingly slapped her ass. I respected her. I loved her. But I was a man and she was the most beautiful and the hottest woman I had ever met. So there were times when I couldn’t control the wide caveman in me. But she knew me better, so these things were never offensive in her eyes.

She came back a couple of minutes later in one of my old shirts she had stolen from me like a month ago. She liked to hang out in it, play with Willow in it. I didn’t mind, it was an old shirt and I barley wore it anymore. But it looked amazing in her.

“So?” she wrapped her arms around my waist and stood on her tiptoes to kiss my lips shortly.

“Sit down, darling” I nodded to the chair and picked up her scarf from her bag “Do you trust me?”

“Of course” she said without hesitation. She sat down and waited. I carefully blindfolded her and poured paint on the palette for her “Why is it if you have something in mind, it always comes with something messy?”

“I just love to make a mess” I laughed and placed a brush in her hand “Believe me, you’re going to love this”

I stood behind her and bend down a little so my mouth was the same level as her ears. I kissed the soft skin behind her ear, and I could hear her breathing quickening. This was amazing.

“Take the brush and dug it in paint” I whispered slowly, letting my breath tickling her skin. She slowly breathed out and obeyed my command. She held the brush, ready to paint, only waiting for my next instruction “Good girl”

“Now, touch the canvas with it gently and paint a straight line from down to up” I put one of my hands on her bare thigh and squeezed it gently. She did as she was asked.

“Hmmm” I stroked her skin “Now, dug in the paint again” my fingers were dancing on her inner thigh “And paint dots on the rhythm of my fingers on your skin”

“And now, paint a circle” I told her. She almost dropped the brush when I started kissing her neck. A smirked to myself, knowing very well that she was close to lose it and turn around to kiss me. She almost did, but I stopped her “Ah no no no, baby girl. Where’s the circle?”

“Tom” she moaned as my fingers went further up on her thigh. I bit on her neck to show her who was in control “Fuck” she whispered my painted the circle nonetheless.

It went like this for a bit more. Me, teasing her and giving her the instructions, and her, trying her very best to not show everything of the table and push me against it.

“It’s terrible” I said when I looked at the final picture. There was no concept at all. Just random colours and random lines, dots and circles. But we made it. I put a little paint on my finger and left my fingerprint at the bottom right corner. I took Y/N’s finger and did the same, right next to mine.

“Do you want to take a look, baby girl?” I whispered in her ear, and that was the last straw. She tore the scarf and throw it away, not giving a damn if it landed in paint or not. She turned around and crashed her lips on mine. This kiss wasn’t gentle at all. It was wild, eager and passionate. When she finally looked me in the eye after the kiss, I could tell we were thinking about the same thing. Her eyes were dark from lust, and there was the dangerous flame in them that I loved so much. She only glanced at the painting for a brief moment.

“It really is terrible” she said and stood in front of me “But now, take me to the bedroom”

“You don’t have to ask me twice” I smiled at her and picked up. Her legs were wrapped around me, and I was sure she could feel everything. We made love for the first time that night. And it was the most amazing night. Little did I know, it was the first out of a lot more.

“It happens that I like it a tiny bit” I winked at her and handed her a cup of tea “I reckon you’d like to talk about a few things, right?”

“Yeah, I think we should” she nodded and went to the living room, Willow following her right away. Y/N sat down, and she immediately laid down by her feet. I joined my girls on the sofa and waited.

“I had a lot of time to think. And I talked to my brother a lot about these feelings that were building up in me” she started and never broke eye contact “I told him everything. About you and me…”

I took a sharp breath. Definitely not how I wanted to be introduced to her family.

“He took it quite well. All he wanted to know if you made me happy and treated my right” she smiled at me “When I assured him that you were literally treating me like a princess, he wished us nothing bet the best. Also, he said something very thoughtful. When I was telling him about how long I had been searching for someone who loved him, and someone I could love, he told me that love is not something you go out and look for. Love finds you, and when it does, ready or not, it’ll be the best thing to ever happen to you”

It was true. The best love is unexpected. You don’t just pick someone and cross your fingers it’ll work. You meet them by fate and it’s an instant connection, and the chemistry share is way above your head. You just talk and notice the way their lips curve when they smile or the colour of their eyes and all at once you know you’re either lucky or screwed. In our case, we were both. We met at the wrong time, but still. We made it work. Not in the most respectful and fair way, but we didn’t let go.

“But you’re still scared” I took her shaking hand in my and squeezed it to calm her down. She didn’t have anything to be afraid it. It was me, who she was talking to, after all “It’s okay. I’m scared too, and I don’t know why. Maybe I’m scared because you mean more to me than any other person. You are everything I think about, everything I need and everything I want.”

“So, what now?” she scooted closer to me, and rested her head on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. I wanted her to know I wasn’t going anywhere. I was there for the long run.

“I think it’s finally our time” I tilted her head up by her chin and kissed her slowly. Yes, it was our time. And I was going to make every second of it worth it.

< 3 years later >

*Y/N’s POV*

When I was a little kid, I loved going to weddings. God knows how many times I was asked to be a flower girl or a bridesmaid. All the decoration, the music, the spirit of true love mesmerized me, and I often find myself imagining my own wedding. I still remember the beautiful white and blush pink decoration with the fairy lights and roses all around the huge mansion. The beautiful ball gown wedding dress, made for me. But this time, everything was different. The huge, modern chalet which we rented for the reception was decorated with deep dark green and silver decoration, and the candles in the black wrought iron holders give and edgy but romantic feeling to the whole decoration.

From the room, which was assigned to be the dressing room for my flower girls, bridesmaids and I had the best view at the backyard. The chairs were covered with silver chair skirts, tied around with a beautiful, dark green ribbon. The trees were so colourful, due to the season, and fairy lights decorated them. Candles were already lit, and followed the way from the back porch’s staircase to the wedding arch, which was made out of evergreens and fairy lights. Everything was perfect.

“How are you feeling, darling?” my Mum asked me from the armchair. I looked at myself in the mirror, and admired the dress I was wearing. It was a simple bright white satin wedding dress, which hugged my body like a waterfall. The straps were made of small diamond-like crystals and fall down on my back, like they were the back of my dress. It was simple, but I felt like I was the most beautiful woman in the whole world.

“Like I want to run down the aisle and finally marry him” I smiled at her. This time, there were no bad feelings, I was shaking from fear. I was sure I was about to make the best decision. I played with my silver bracelet. The single teardrop shaped pearl wasn’t lonely anymore. There were other charms from the places we visited in the last couple of years.

“I’ll go and get your Dad than” Mum kissed my cheek and left me to find my Dad.

I took a deep breath and looked outside again. Family and friends were already sitting, and my flower girls and bridesmaid were waiting by the aisle to walk down before me. I could see a familiar dirty blond hair, talking with his best man and friends near the altar. For so long I thought marriage wasn’t for me. Even when I was with Aaron. But I realized it was for me. And it was with that man, with the most mesmerizing blue eyes and bright smile. With that man, who was the most beautiful person I had even met in my entire life. Sometimes I just looked at him and thought how lucky I was that he was mine.

“Let’s get you married” my Dad said as he entered the room with the biggest smile on his face “No cold feet?”

“No cold feel” I answered and laced my hand with his.

*start the song now*

The first accords started to play when the musicians saw me and Dad arriving. Suddenly, all eyes were on me, and I could feel myself getting emotional, tears blurring my vision. The sun was just setting, and the lights of the trees and the little path made out of candles made the whole scene look magical.

But the most magical part was the man who was waiting for me at the end of the aisle. We were looking at each other, not caring about our families and friends around us. I only see him. He, in his pitch black suit with the silver tie witch complemented his bright blue eyes. He had the most beautiful smile on his face, and I had to stop myself from running up to him and kiss him. Nothing was stopping us now.

We were halfway down when I could see it. He was crying and smiling at the same time. Damn, I was the luckiest girl in the world.

“Take care of my little girl” I tried so hard to stop myself from crying, but when my Dad placed my hand in my soon to be husband’s, I could help but let a few tears escape.

The ceremony was beautiful. The speech the registrar said was true, emotional and a little bit funny, but the whole time I was lost in the most beautiful eyes. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. I was looking at my future.

“Ladies and gentleman” the registrar spoke “It’s time for this two beautiful and in love people to take their vows.

Tom’s niece stepped closer and handed him my ring, which he almost dropped because his hand was shaking so much. I chuckled and whispered a tiny ‘I love you’ to calm him down. He cleared his throat and looked back at me. We immediately get lost in each other’s eyes.

“I, Thomas Andrew, take you, Y/N Y/M/N to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, and in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you, for all eternity” he smiled at me “I’d love nothing more than to stumble through life with you”

He slowly slipped the ring on my finger and gently kissed my hand, before wiping away a few of his tears. I took his ring from our niece and kissed the top of her head before she returned to her father’s side with a huge smile.

“I, Y/N Y/M, take you Thomas Andrew, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish out union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” I winked at him and said the last line of my vow “I’d love nothing more than to stumble through life with you”

I slipped the ring on his finger and from that moment, that wasn’t power on Earth that could have stopped me from crying. I didn’t care how ugly I looked crying or if my makeup was a mess. I was his wife. And he was my husband.

“Y/N and Tom” the registrar smiled at us “You came here today to affirm your love for one another and formally acknowledge that which your hearts already knew…”

Tom and I both chuckled, thinking about how our love started.

“That your lives are meant to be shared as one, that you are stronger together than you are apart, and that, for all your days yet to come, you wish to share together all life’s joys and challenges, committed one to the other”

She took a breath and with true joy in his voice he continued.

“I now pronounce you Husband and Wife! You can now kiss the bride”

He didn’t waste a second. Tom picked me up and kissed me passionately. He didn’t have to say anything. Everything was in our first kiss as husband and wife. And it was the sweetest kiss we had ever shared.

***

We were standing on the porch, watching our friends and now shared family having the time of their lives. Drinking, eating, dancing, bonding and laughing. It was perfect. Just the way we imagined our wedding. We spent almost a year planning it, Tom helping with everything, sometimes being even more excited than me. He never skipped a meeting with our wedding planner. He was really there for me. And he was the one who planned our honeymoon. No matter how many times I asked, or how I tried to trick him to tell me where we were going, he kept it as a secret. Always saying it was a gift.

“You’re still not telling me, right?” I looked up at him. We had been standing there for quite a while now, just hugging each other, staring into each other’s eyes and sharing sweet kisses as a married couple.

“Nope” he kissed my forehead and pulled me even closer. I could feel and hear his heart beating against his chest.

“I have a gift for you too” I pulled away and stepped into to house to grab the little silver envelope from my bag. My hands were shaking and I was terrified to give it to him. But also, I was excited “There’s one thing you have been wanting for so long. And I’ve been holding this is my dresser for a few weeks now, so excuse me for not giving you the latest one, but I really hope you’re going to love it.”

He took the envelope from me and opened it gently. He slowly pulled out the small, black and white picture with a red hear shaped sticker on the middle of it, framing the bean sized dot.

“Is that…?” his blue eyes were filled with tears “Are you? Are we having a…?

“A baby?” I asked with tears in my eyes too “Yeah, we are. I’m pregnant”

“I’m going to be a Dad” he yelled and picked me up for the second time today. He twirled around with me and showered my face with kisses. I was sobbing like a little baby. He was so happy. I knew how badly he wanted to be a father, and his dream was finally coming true.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d find someone so utterly and completely perfect, someone who would make me happier than I ever dreamed I could be. Someone that would touch my life so profoundly and just give me a whole new reason to breathe. But then I found you and realized that everything I anticipated you to be doesn’t even compare who you are.” he held my face in his hands. The amount of love I felt for that man was almost unbearable. I smiled at him and kissed him softly. I knew that no matter what was waiting for us, we were going to be okay because we had each other. He taught me so many things. He helped me to love myself. But most importantly, with him by my side, I could finally tell what true love felt like.

#Tom Felton #tom felton fanfic #tom felton love story #imagine tom felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton x y/n #tom felton x reader #tom felton x you #draco #Draco Malfoy #daddy draco #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco request.#harry potter cast

100 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 4 years

Text

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today.

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones #oh well #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

737 notes · View notes

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Can we get angsty fic of Yvette and Vuz-ass make a deal for curse removal? Yvette isn’t aware of the catch. Vuz took MC’s humanity away at the same time as Yvette’s curse removal. Mc joins Vuz and make deal with demons for powers.

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“It is always a pleasure to see you, my child.” The greeting was raspy, amusement coating it like honey. Vuzgamad never felt truly threatened by Yvette, no matter what she did or what she said. It was all a game to her, like an owner who didn’t expect their dog to bite them, and only watched fondly as it growled and whimpered and barked.

But Yvette did know how to bite, and she would draw blood when she did. It was only a matter of time.

“You said you wanted to make a deal.”

Years of experiences had taught Yvette everything she needed to know about deals. It was similar to a battlefield, where each party needed to plan their movements and proposals to the full extent. They couldn’t allow their opponent to have an unfair advantage. Quite ironically, however, they were willing to go to any lengths to cheat the other party to gain said unfair advantage – so long as they weren’t caught, anyway. Yvette wasn’t planning on letting anything slip past her, because there was no doubt Vuzgamad wanted to cheat her.

The day the demon did one thing even the slightest bit truthfully, would be the day hell froze over.

“Straight to the point,” She hummed, making a small tsk sound right afterwards. “That impatience will do you no good, girl. Don’t you want to chat a little?”

Yvette gave her a fulminating glare, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “If it doesn’t regard whatever deal it is that you want to make, I have nothing to say to you.”

“So ferocious. So brash. Well, it is to be expected, I suppose…” Vuzgamad finally, finally turned to look at her, a small smirk playing at the edge of her lips. She got the gesture and movement right; if Yvette hadn’t known she was a demon, if she hadn’t been able to see marks and the hollow eyes, she would have thought it was just another human, if a little awkward.

Vuzgamad had learnt too much about human behavior recently. It set Yvette on edge.

“Simply put, your curse has reached its peak. It’s about time to remove it.”

“…Excuse me?”

She must have heard the demon wrong. She fought to keep her breathing steady, to avoid giving Vuzgamad the reaction she wanted, but she could feel excitement bubbling inside her all the same. She schooled her expression – no, no, she couldn’t dare to hope. She couldn’t dare to believe her, not when she had been the one to curse her in the first place.

She couldn’t let her emotions override her logic. She needed to keep her yearning in check. She needed to. She needed to. The disappointment would crush her otherwise.

For a second, Vuzgamad’s eyes flickered from her expression to her hands, scanning for the slightest twitch. Her smirk stretched.

Then the demon feigned disinterest, turning to whatever she was writing. Yvette felt eerily like a child that had stumbled into their parent’s office and interrupted their work. The sensation made her shudder with disgust.

This demon was not her mother. She would never be, because Yvette had left her real mother – and any chance she had at a normal life – behind when she had decided to run away from home.

“The power your curse provides can be harvested, so that’s what I will do. Take it away.”

Her heart leaped. Yvette worried for a second that Vuzgamad could hear it. She cleared her throat, trying to crush her rising hope. Focus. She had to focus. “There must be a catch of some sort.”

“Isn’t there always, dear?” Then, silence. She was enjoying this – perhaps she wanted to see Yvette fidget? She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – play right into her hands.

“I do not trust you, Vuzgamad. I will not accept your deal.” She intended to say this with conviction, but her voice wavered. Vuzgamad huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I have not finished speaking, child.”

“Could have fooled me…”

“Oh please, it was a dramatic pause. You know all about those, don’t you?”

“You were doing an excellent job at getting straight to the point.”

“Ah, so you are the only one who can have a dramatic flair?”

Yvette’s scowl deepened. “Stop. Wasting. My. Time.”

“So brash! Where did your manners go, child?” Another tsk sound. Vuzgamad turned the paper over so she could continue writing. “Yes, yes, there is a catch. The energy I harvest from you – your curse with it – will be used to bring about the end of the world. You must have known that already.”

“I hardly doubt you could destroy the world with-”

“Do you honestly think I’d have wasted years for a plan I wasn’t quite sure would work?”

Yvette bristled. With a quick movement of her hand, her cane snapped into existence. She twirled it artfully, a warning. “I do not accept.”

“Really.” The demon’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Do keep in mind there is no other way for you to get rid of that curse, save for that girl’s ability to love. We both know you won’t choose that option,” another brief, amused look, “or you could kill me, but I hardly doubt you’ll have much luck this time.”

There it was, that overwhelming desire. To be free. To be normal. To have the one thing she’d wanted almost all of her life. And it was locked behind a word and a sense of duty to her Assassin Title. If Yvette accepted, then…

Then… what?

Vuzgamad was sure her plan would work. Yvette knew it would fail.

Whatever it was that Vuzgamad believed, her curse didn’t feel powerful enough for the feat she was suggesting. Yvette was quite used to keeping the energy in check, after all. She would know better than anyone if her curse was truly at its peak.

Now this was the perfect opportunity to cheat her opponent. Yvette put on an act, refusing at first, to keep Vuzgamad from realizing what she was trying to do, before she finally agreed.

She could shoot two birds with one stone.

…

“Sounds like quite the big catch, though. Are you sure about this, Yvette?”

“I’m aware of the danger. Vuzgamad doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Vinca gives her a sidelong glance, wary. “Is it tonight?”

“It is.”

“And I probably won’t be able to talk you out of this.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Does the pipsqueak have a better chance?”

The corners of Yvette’s lips quirk upwards at the mention. “Not any better that yours.”

Vinca moves to touch her gloved hand again, giving the interaction with Vuzgamad a few days ago another look. “I guess it’s worth a try. If she does anything, we can just gut her.”

“Assuming we’ll manage this time,” Lazareth mumbles, looking just as uneasy as Vinca is. Yvette ignores them both, fiddling with her phone to get in contact with MC. She can’t wait to share the news.

…

“You brought company,” Vuzgamad notes, drily.

“What is it that you always tell me…? The more the merrier, was it?”

Vuzgamad laughs. It’s an awful sound, like a claw scrapping metal, inhumane and atrocious. Yvette winces. Vinca glares daggers at the demon, hands twitching towards the tiny knives on her dress, though she grits her teeth and makes no other movement. Lazareth casts the room a quizzical look, obviously on the hunt for a hint regarding whatever ritual Vuzgamad was going to use.

MC stood beside them, the very definition of calm. Yvette smiled to herself, knowing MC had taken her lessons about how to school her expression to heart. Having everyone by her side meant the world to her, emboldening her, giving her the strength she needs to face Vuzgamad and emerge victorious.

The thing is… nothing went as planned.

The curse removal was less painful than she expected it to be. Energy swirled out of her and into a device Vuzgamad had prepared, a small gray stone which quickly turned into a bright, pulsing orange. It was an odd sensation, not having to subconsciously keep the curse in check. Yvette felt almost hollow, but she quickly shrugged the feeling away.

She felt cold. For the first time in ages, she felt cold.

The chill of the wind bit into her skin like tiny knives laced with a numbing substance. Vinca moved to her side, watching her worriedly, her hand hovering over Yvette’s elbow and sending a shock of warmth through her system.

The curse had been blindingly hot, never warm. Yvette half-expected it to be scalding, but this warmth was soothing. Yvette found herself unconsciously leaning into it.

Smiling, Yvette looked up to meet MC’s eyes. And her whole world shattered when she saw none of the loving support MC had always given her, just stony indifference.

MC then walked towards Vuzgamad, who gave her the stone without a word.

Lazareth bristled at the sight. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

They glare at each other, the tension skyrocketing by the second. Yvette blinks. Blinks again. Blinks once more, trying to comprehend what’s happening, trying to understand why MC is standing beside Vuzgamad and not her. It doesn’t make sense. It is unexpected, and for a second Yvette feels a different kind of cold – it descends on her with a rush of panic

Vinca steps in front of her like some sort of human shield. Yvette can’t see the blonde’s expression but she can easily imagine it, all furrowed eyebrows and stormy blue eyes.

"You have one minute to explain before I gut you out. Both of you."

Vuzgamad chuckles. She turns in MC's direction with a maniac grin. "Yes MC, do explain to my child and her friends your decision." The glint in her eye reminds Yvette of the day she has first meet the demon, when she had ruined her life with the curse. She looks at it now and immediately understands her life will be ruined yet again.

MC shrugs. "Helping you was kind of pathetic. I decided to join the winning side."

"Pathetic?" Vinca repeats, her voice like acid. "I don't know if you hit your head or something, pipsqueak, but the only pathetic thing around here is your existence. Are you trying to shy await from that fact? Or are you just too delusional to-"

"MC." Her voice wavers, but it still rings sharply through the room. Vinca stops talking, choosing to seethe in anger while Lazareth gives them both one long, worried look. Yvette ignores everything - Vuzgamad's amused stare, MC's own disgusted one - and focuses on the woman she remembers MC to be. The woman she fell in love. The bike mechanic in front of her is a stranger, an illusion. "It's a lie. S-some sort of joke in very poor sense. It must be."

MC smiles. "The only joke around here is you."

Everything she is feeling is replaced by anger. Anger at Vuzgamad, anger at herself, anger at the world. The thing she desires the most slips through her fingers once more, as it seems destined to do.

The person she trusted above everything else. The person she can't believe is turning her back on her like this. The person she had given everything for, standing before her, letting all those precious, precious memories rot at the edge of her consciousness, not showing any remorse at all.

Yvette's first thought is that she is possessed. One look into her eyes confirms she is not.

The cold is but a distant memory, her pure being enveloped by the heat of her frustration.

Vinca gasps, taking a few steps back. "Yvette, your eyes!" Her eyes open wide, "your curse!"

Lazareth brandishes his weapon, bewildered. "The ritual was a hoax."

Vuzgamad bats his words away with a hand, still chuckling. "Hardly. I merely gathered enough energy for the curse to weaken, not to break. Yvette's conflicting feelings have strengthened it beyond comprehension." She pauses to bark a small laugh when Yvette's eyes snap towards her, blazing. "Child! What did you take me for? Did you think I didn't know your curse wasn't ready for harvest yet? It would have taken another decade, probably, but this little event speed the process up. Isn't it glorious?"

Yvette took a deep, calming breath. She could feel the curse's energy replenishing, fueled by her anger. It wasn't close to its usual amount, but Yvette could feel it nonetheless. The curse was stronger. One slip and everything would burn.

"Where are the tears, Yvette?" MC asked. "I was expecting some serious waterworks from you! Too bad."

“Oh, that is it!”

Vinca’s knives flash. The realization MC has turned into an enemy – an enemy she will have to fight – locks Yvette in place. She can only watch as the knives soar through the air, directly towards MC’s shoulder. Ah, Vinca wants to paralyze her. Maybe so they can focus on Vuzgamad first. Yvette can get behind that plan, she wants to interrogate MC further.

But her thoughts quickly dissipate when the knives stop in mid-air. MC smirks, tapping the side of her head with a lazy, confident motion.

Lazareth grunts. “Telekinesis?”

“Isn’t it cool?” She asks. A flicker of her wrist, and the knives turn.

Yvette summons her sword with a trembling hand. Its weight offers some semblance of comfort, of control, but a quick look around reveals they are at a disadvantage. Eyeless demons are pouring out of the shadows in one big, crazed mass of bodies. They could probably take them on with little to no problem, but Yvette doesn’t think she’s in a good emotional place to endure the fight.

Her concentration spills into reality, turning it into a distraction that won’t last more than a couple of seconds.

It’s enough time to escape.

And so, she meets Vinca and Lazareth’s questioning gaze and orders a retreat, gritting her teeth, wondering how and why everything turned out the way it did.

She should have never assumed she could cheat Vuzgamad.

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck swm #swm #sin with me #yvette holte #sin with me yvette #angst #yvette x mc #swm yvette

28 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

Photo

SURVIVAL TIPS | MILO & WILLOW

PLACE: A bookstore TIMING: Way, way back when Milo first became a vampire SUMMARY: Milo and Willow accidentally cross paths, and realise they both have the power to distract each other from their problems WRITING PARTNER: @willcwthewisp CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Milo couldn’t remember the last time he had unironically set foot in a bookstore. After graduating uni, it all felt a little pointless. He had books, though they were at his parents’ house, far beyond his reach now. And reading felt too trivial considering the latest developments in his life. Why would he ever need books? What could they possibly have to offer him? But this evening, against his better judgement, he had been struck by the overwhelming urge to go to a bookshop. To steal back a semblance of the normalcy belonging to his previous life. With Harsh’s constant, and unexpected support, he was feeling more in control than ever before. Though his grip on his cravings remained tenuous at best, he figured he was capable of a short visit. After impatiently waiting for the sun to set, he had hurried into town, slipping quietly through the familiar door. The bell above him rang out, announcing his arrival, and the sound caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. Maybe he missed this more than he thought. Once upon a time, before he had allowed himself to spiral, he would come here. His mom would find new books for him to study. His dad would nudge him away from the children’s section, towards the classics that were technically beyond his reading level. If it’s easy, then what are you learning, Milo? You need to be challenged. He could still hear his tone, the exact way he would make not being able to choose his own stories sound like a privilege rather than a frustration.

Drifting through the various sections, taking in the new sounds, and scents he had never been able to appreciate before, it wasn’t long until he found himself standing where his parents used to encourage him to stand. They would search through the shelves, talking amongst themselves to determine which novels were best suited for their son. Even now that he had a choice, he was drawn to the books they had selected for him. Maybe it was a warped sense of loyalty, maybe he missed the simplicity of having every decision made for him. Gently running his fingers along the spine of Great Expectations, he wondered whether Charles Dickens had lived in a world of vampires, and ghosts. Certainly Edgar Allan Poe had to have known about the existence of the Supernatural. It made him want to revisit the tales, search for any hint that might indicate the world had always been this confusing. Finally pulling Great Expectations from the shelf, he turned to walk towards the seating area, completely unaware of the person walking in the opposite direction. He stumbled backwards the moment he saw them, very nearly walking into them. A sheepish grin on his face, he did what he could to hold his breath. Harsh had already warned him doing so would draw attention, but he didn’t see any other option when people got so close. “Shit- I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Willow was to the point of desperation when it came to finding the book she was looking for. For some unfathomable reason it wasn’t available anywhere that she could find online. Maybe it was simply so popular that most sellers had run out of it, but either way she’d ended up braving the trek to the bookstore after hearing they had a copy in stock. Books were one of the few ways she’d managed to stay sane in her self-appointed isolation, filling her head with stories of the outside world that she couldn’t bring herself to experience anymore. But she should have known going out into public once again was a terrible idea, and that became clear the moment she nearly collided with another being. Her eyes widened in alarm at the severity of the close call, already imagining how she could have sent the young man standing in front of her flying through multiple shelves of books.

“Oh god-” Willow gasped as if she’d been startled at a haunted house, hand clutched to her chest as she took a few, healthy steps backwards to put some space between her and the stranger. “No, no- I didn't see you there either, I’m sorry.” Her nerves had been set on edge by the near run in, and she was doing her best to steady her breaths, trying not to think about the ten million ways this interaction could go poorly if the stranger got too close. “I was just- I wasn’t watching that carefully where I was going, I guess.” A lapse on judgement on her part. She should know better than to walk blindly when she was a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Milo was already tense, doing his very best to hide it. But it made him feel a little better to hear the stranger’s heart pounding in her chest. Clearly he wasn’t the only person who had been caught so off guard, and clearly he wasn’t the only person so panicked by the close proximity. The relief didn’t last for very long though. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the sound of her pulse served as an unwelcome reminder of how dry his throat felt, the new reality he was desperately trying to ignore. Before he could take a further step back, the woman had done so for him, and he watched her curiously, wondering whether she might also a reason of her own to keep her distance. “Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned for her. “No- I wasn’t looking either, it was my fault as much as it was yours!” He insisted. If he had been more careful, as careful as he should be given his current situation, this wouldn’t have happened. But he was already tired of being careful. Was one evening too much to ask for? One evening of reading books in a bookstore like a regular human being? “I, uh-” He held up his copy of Great Expectations, still holding his breath between sentences as though such a desperate gesture might be able to fix all of his problems. “I was distracted too…”

“Oh- oh, I’m fine!” Willow tried to assure, not wanting the young man to think he’d startled her too badly— even if he had done just that. “Are you alright?” she asked out of politeness. He didn’t seem very shaken, but it was only in her nature to ask in return. Forcing a chuckle, she clutched the book she’d fetched to her chest, as if it could protect her. “I think we’re gonna have to either agree to disagree, or just let me take the blame.” She wasn’t particularly in the practice of letting the guilt fall on someone else when it came to situations that involved herself. “Oh, are you reading Great Expectations?” she asked as she took in the title and cover of the book. It wasn’t one of her favorites- mostly because she’d been forced to read it in highschool, but it was still a classic and staple. In her opinion, it had ghosts that weren’t really ghosts, and that was something she’d been drawn to.

Smiling at the woman’s insistence that she really was okay, Milo allowed himself to relax as much as he dared to. It wasn’t easy, trying to find a balance. Trying to stay aware of his surroundings, while also staying aware of himself. He could only hope one day it would become a part of his routine, something he did without even needing to focus. “I am.” He answered quietly. He wasn’t sure how true that was, but he sincerely appreciated the question. “I mean, if you want to take the blame I have a track record of avoiding responsibility.” He teased, laughing quietly at the fact that he was being entirely honest now. “I’m not going to try and stop you.” Glancing down at the book in his hands, he stared at the cover for a moment too long. There were so many childhood memories connected to it that it was difficult to look away from. “I guess so.” He grinned, offering her a shrug. “My parents made me read it as a kid… I’m kind of missing the simplicity of that, you know? My biggest worry being how quickly I could get to the end of a book.” Finally tearing his gaze away and looking back up at the stranger, he realised he had yet to introduce himself. “I’m Milo, by the way… So, are you going to tell me what you’re reading? Hopefully something far less cliché.”

Part of Willow was glad that the young man hadn’t insisted on taking the blame as many people were often wont to do. Generally that just resulted in a tiring back and forth until they found some sort of compromise, or forgot what they were talking about altogether. “Perfect,” she settled the burden of blame with a chuckle, her smile still warm. “Glad we agreed on that as easily as we did.” He seemed nice despite her nearly running headlong into him. Her head tilted curiously to the side, listening closely while he spoke of his parents and books. “Oh- well that’s...sweet in a way. And it makes sense.” She could certainly relate to wishing for a simpler time, often thinking of the days she’d been able to walk free without fear of breaking someone in half via telekinesis. “Books are a good way to forget the world for a bit.” They were her favorite method of escaping behind painting. “Oh- I’m Willow,” she replied quickly, a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten to introduce herself in the first place. “I don’t think Great Expectations is necessarily cliché,” she offered politely with another little laugh before continuing on. “But mine’s called ‘Leave the World’.”

Amused by Willow apparently being grateful he was readily allowing her to take the blame, Milo realised he was genuinely beginning to enjoy her company. His smile only growing as she talked about the ease of the decision, it was refreshing not being seen as somebody argumentative, or petulant, even if the context could barely be considered serious. “It was a pleasure discussing business with you.” He replied, feigning sincerity as he caught her eye. Raising his eyebrows as she called his actions sweet, he wasn’t sure he would use that word but perhaps from an outsider’s perspective his explanation could be seen as sentimental. “Yeah, you could probably call it that.” He admitted, absentmindedly tapping his fingertips against the cover of the book still in his hands. “I don’t know… I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t even know why I came here really, I think I might be looking for something that’s just... impossible to find, you know?” His old life, his humanity... Realising the stranger was right, his smile softened into an open, and unguarded expression. Books were a good way to escape, however briefly. And though there were no hidden doorways here allowing him to step back into the past, maybe a brief escape would enough for now. If achieving one was even possible. Maybe it needed to be enough. “Leave the World?” He couldn't say he had ever heard of it. “I don’t suppose there are any tips in there? I could use a vacation from this place.”

The younger man’s words brought a laugh to Willow’s lips, and she was grateful for the bell-like sound as she reminded herself how few and far between interactions like this had been. Sure- she’d talked to people in her self-imposed isolation, had even seen a few humans here and there, but there was nothing that could replace the actual company of another living and breathing person. “I hope I don’t have a bill coming in the mail for this business talk,” she teased back. Her shoulders relaxing another inch while she let herself slip a little further into comfort.

The expression on her face took on a more sincere air as her head tilted curiously to the side, a gentle nod of understanding shaking it in the end. “I think...a lot of people feel that way, if we’re being honest.” And she didn’t see any reason not to be. Even ghosts were looking for something that seemed impossible to find. After all, that was why they’d stuck around in the first place. “But I also haven’t met anyone that hasn’t eventually found what they’re looking for. Sometimes you just need help, you know?” That was the job of the medium or exorcist in her mind— to extend that helping hand when someone needed it. “And sometimes the answer isn’t what we expect, but I think you’ll get there eventually.” Another chuckle shook her gently before she gave her answer. “No tips in there unless you’re looking for ways to survive and deal with the apocalypse. But if you’re looking for some ‘vacation’ books I can take you to some of my favorites?”

Milo laughed too, his eyes shining. “I wasn’t going to but now that I think about it my rent is probably due.” He teased, unable to help himself. He could hardly consider their conversation business talk, but he was enjoying it more than he would ever have expected to. Although he liked his time alone, socialising had always come naturally to him. He had no issue with talking to people, getting to know them when their paths somehow managed to cross with his own. He missed this, he missed making new friends. His smile fading somewhat as Willow became serious again, he appreciated her honesty. It made him sad to know what she was saying was probably true, but it also helped him to feel less alone. Sometimes he just needed to be reminded of that fact. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He murmured, knowing the sense of relief would be temporary. How long until he convinced himself otherwise? Until his own mind erased Willow’s wisdom? “It’s easy to forget sometimes, you know? Especially when your problems are so… specific.” He admitted, offering her a hesitant shrug.

A smile tugging at his lips again, the mention of hope was comforting, regardless of the fact that everything felt pretty hopeless right about now. He was more stable than he had been, though still not used to his new life, still close enough to his old one to actively grieve for it. “You really think so?” He asked, knowing his longing would be obvious in his voice. He made no effort to hide it, too distracted by the mention of finding answers, by the sound of Willow’s heartbeat, by the book in his hands still reminding him of his childhood. “I really hope so…” Maybe she was right. Harsh was helping him now, and things were getting better. The progress was slow, but it still counted as progress. “Thank you.” His smile became more genuine as he felt a strange rush of affection for the woman he barely knew. Apparently she believed in him, apparently she was convinced one day he might actually be okay again. “Hm, I think tips on how to survive might be more useful to me than vacation books.” He was only half teasing. “But if you’d be up for the company, I’d love to see some of your favourites.”

“Well- you’ll just have to send over the prices so I can get a look at them. My sister’s actually better with stuff like that anyway, so I’ll probably pass them on to her,” Willow chuckled. It was true though. Meg had needed to negotiate quite a few contracts along with her manager when it came to her spot as a blossoming celebrity. She’d missed this as well. Even though she’d always been a little more on the quieter side, Willow had always loved seeing a new smile wherever she could find them. Her warm expression shifted into concern another time as Milo continued to speak of his problems. She might not have the abilities to go along with being a proper medium, but she’d still been raised as one, and along with that came a compassion geared towards helping. “Well if you ever need reminding just message me, alright? I’m easy enough to find on the town forums. My full name’s Willow Finch if you want to search me, though.” Maybe she was coming on too strong when it came to being helpful, but it’d always been hard for her to draw that line. If she wanted to help, why shouldn't she make sure the other person knew it without a doubt?

“Of course I think so,” Willow repeated with another soft smile, already happy to see the smallest flash of hope enter into Milo’s eyes. “I haven’t met a person yet that couldn’t find what they were looking for. Even if it took time. And even if it wasn’t what they were expecting.” The poor guy. She could practically feel the desperate wanting in his voice, could recognize it because she herself was on a seemingly hopeless quest for answers when it came to her own problems with telekinesis. There had to be an end...right? But a smaller voice in her mind reminded Willow that endings weren’t always happy. Nevertheless she brushed it aside, and turned to start on her way towards her favorite section of the store. “Come on- I think we can find some books that fall into both categories,” she finished with a grin over her shoulder.

Milo continued to smile in response to the joke, leaning into the way this woman seemed able to distract him from his problems, if only for a brief moment in time. He could see she was being genuine, that she actually wanted to help, and he wasn’t used to that. Not anymore. “I hope she doesn’t take a cut of the check?” He teased, his smile growing as she insisted she was always going to be there if he needed a reminder that all hope wasn’t lost. It was an odd thing for a stranger to offer, but given his life as of late, he didn’t feel as though his gauge on what was normal even functioned anymore. It had been permanently shattered when he woke up as an official member of the undead. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he held it out to her, encouraging her to plug her name and number into his list of contacts. “I might take you up on that, you know…” Why not? What did he have to lose by making another hesitant friend? “Willow Finch… your name has superhero vibes, has anybody ever told you that?” His eyes were shining as he was reminded of who he used to be, the kid who spent his free time split between the comic book store, and the many questionable establishments White Crest had to offer him. He was still very much that person, but nothing felt quite so simple anymore. He only wanted things to be simple.

His smile fading when Willow insisted he would eventually find what he was looking for, some sense of peace, some way of being content with what he had become, maybe even some level of control when it came to fighting against the bloodlust continually scratching the back of his throat, he was impatient, but he was also happy just to believe that the answers were out there. He would find them, and maybe, just maybe, he would be okay. Surprised when she started to walk away from him, he faltered before hurrying to fall into step beside her, holding his breath as her movement caused the smell of her blood to permeate the air. He didn’t know what she meant by both categories, surely survival books and vacation books were on two very different ends of a spectrum. But he didn’t care, he wanted to understand, he wanted to follow her. Because, for some reason, she made him feel like there was hope, like he existed as more than some miserable outcome, and that was proving to be incredibly rare.

#c:willow #milo and willow

4 notes · View notes

assetalliance · 8 months

Text

Open Business Bank Account in Dubai

About

Zero equilibrium account in the UAE for all new companies and business people.

Starter account offers dependable and remunerating banking items and administrations, appropriate to our capable business people, with a level month to month administration expense.

Cash: AED, USD, GBP, EURO, JPY, CNY

How to open a business bank account in Dubai

Dubai's economy is on the ascent these days with land upgrades and an expanded vacationer interest. With that, it appears banks are more willing ever to loan.

The monetary viewpoint showing up areas of strength for so's, nothing unexpected an ever increasing number of unfamiliar organizations are hoping to consolidate or open seaward financial balances in the UAE.

While the general wellbeing of banking in Dubai is alluring, opening a financial balance. Notwithstanding, the cycle isn't unthinkable, and numerous organizations begin banking in Dubai consistently.

Dubai's economy is on the ascent these days with land upgrades and an expanded vacationer interest. With that, it appears banks are more willing ever to loan.

While the general security of banking in Dubai is appealing, opening a ledger in the emirate as a worldwide organization can introduce a few obstacles. Be that as it may, the cycle isn't unimaginable, and numerous organizations begin banking in Dubai consistently.

Making an extremely durable foundation

Laying out a branch office

Making a substance in one of the UAE's free zones

Making a common organization

Entering a business organization understanding

Under the UAE Business Organizations Regulation, organizations laid out in any of the emirate's priority something like one UAE public accomplice who holds at least 51% of the organization's capital. In any case, a few organizations might be excluded from the law, remembering those for the oil and gas industry, organizations that produce power and gas, and organizations engaged with water treatment and dissemination. Organizations laid out in the free zone are likewise excluded from the 51% rule, as long as that zone has its own arrangements for directing the organization.

There are seven methods for creating permanent establishments:

General Associations

Restricted Organizations

Joint Support Adventures

Public Business entities

Confidential Business entities

Restricted Responsibility Organizations

Organizations Restricted with Offers

Organizations wishing to lay out a presence in Dubai may likewise make a branch office, which conveys a similar legitimate way of life as the parent organization. Branch workplaces might perform agreements or direct different exercises, as determined in its singular permit.

Can a foreign entity open a corporate bank account in Dubai?

The UAE isn't among the nations that take part in the Hague Show of 1961- - meaning, the UAE doesn't perceive Apostille. Since that verification isn't legitimate in Dubai, the initial step is having all vital organization archives affirmed at the Department of the Emirates in the nation where the organization is enrolled. Then, the reports should be affirmed by the UAE Service of International concerns. Certificate at the UAE MFA costs generally AED 2,000 for every report, meaning the absolute expense of the accreditation cycle frequently costs $3000 USD or more. Past the sticker price, the affirmation interaction can frequently require months.

Quick version - an unfamiliar element might open a ledger in Dubai, in any case, consolidating in the UAE is many times a lot simpler and more practical arrangement.

Once I’m incorporated or certified, what’s the process to open a corporate account?

The necessities for opening a record change from one bank to another, however the presence of a significant investor or chief is commonly required. In some cases lawyers can set up accounts for their clients' sake, however this isn't many times the situation.

To open a record, the initial step is finishing a record opening application, which will be upheld by nitty gritty organization records. That data can incorporate verification of business, similar to agreements and solicitations, as well as data about the organization's clients and providers.

However the rundown fluctuates between banks, regularly the necessary records will include:

The identification (with residency visa) of the organization's investor delegate

Duplicate of the Emirates ID card of the investor agent

Identification duplicate of the organization chief

Data about the sort of exercises on the record

Divulgence of the wellspring of assets

Existing agreements

Reference letters from colleagues

Marketable strategy

Full arrangement of ensured organization fuse archives

Notice and articles

Declaration of fuse

Investors library

Organization extricate (from the authority organizations library)

Declaration of good standing

Then, the bank will accumulate foundation data about the candidate's supervisory group, including investors and chiefs. The data gathering cycle will like include monetary projections.

Last, the bank will lead a meeting with the candidate. When those stages are finished, the record will be laid out.

What kind of banking fees can I expect?

Banking in Dubai is known to be laden with expenses, and it's generally smart to get a full rundown of possible charges prior to picking where to start your business financial balance.

Assuming that you're wanting to move cash globally, it's particularly essential to watch out for unfamiliar exchange expenses

Nonetheless, assuming you might want to stay away from these worldwide charges by any means, consider utilizing Astute to support your business financial balance from abroad. Insightful purposes the genuine mid-market trade rates to switch your cash starting with one money over completely then onto the next. That intends that, dissimilar to a standard bank moves, there's no secret markup on the cash change rate. Furthermore, in light of the fact that Asset Alliance gets and sends your cash by means of neighborhood bank moves in both the UAE and abroad, those global charges are removed.

With everything taken into account, starting a business banking account in Dubai ought to be a genuinely an effortless cycle with a lot of choices for picking the right record for your business.

Features and Benefits

ZERO equilibrium necessities

Free Business Check Card with higher day to day cash withdrawal limits.

Reasonable record bundle for new business starters/recently settled organizations

Standard expense for banking exchanges and computerized stages

Standard forex rates

Standard Exchange Money rates

Devoted relationship administrators

Devoted SME Administration Work areas

Eligibility

Relevant for all kind of recently settled organizations and new companies in UAE

Required Documents

Public ID or legitimate identification with UAE home visa and Emirates ID of all marking specialists and investors, if relevant

Legitimate lawful and constitutive reports (for example Exchange Permit, Declaration of Business Enrollment, Free Zone Authentication of Fuse, Notice of Affiliation, Organization Understanding) as pertinent

General legal authority or Board Goal, if material

Evidence of Address

Subtleties of Extreme Advantageous Proprietors

Bank Reference Letter and Company Profile, if relevant

No prerequisite for evaluated budget summaries

#corporate bank account opening in dubai #business account in dubai #requirements to open a business bank account in dubai #opening a business bank account in dubai #corporate bank account opening dubai #company bank account opening in dubai #business bank account opening in dubai #business account opening in dubai #open business account online dubai #best bank for business account in dubai #company bank account opening dubai #open business bank account dubai

0 notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Eleven)

Post Monaco! I.... sort of love how this chapter turned out. Tony’s slipping mental stability, James flickering back and forth between being-Bucky and being-WS, a smidge of post adrenaline nekkidness. All good things.

More notes at end of chapter.

MASTERLIST HERE

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

47%

The admittedly self inflicted stress of racing in the Grand Prix, the unexpected near death experience by way of electrified whips and the resulting chaos had cost Tony three percent, his heart pounding and forcing the toxin through his vein faster than normal, the concentration of palladium in his blood getting higher every minute, every hour, every damn stressful unending day that he wasn’t sipping a beer in a hammock somewhere sunny and relaxing.

The new suit used way too much power, far too much energy as it assembled around the wearer and Tony would have to work on that. The new suit was too slow, clicking and clacking into place and not as smoothly functioning as the single piece suits and Tony would have to work on that too. He couldn’t have Rhodey running around in a suit that took more than a single minute to assemble, no way would he leave the Colonel vulnerable for even that amount of time. But the suit had worked remarkably well for what Tony wanted to do with James’s arm and in that case he could take the tech and modify it so--

“Tony, are you with us?”

Tony pulled his finger from his mouth with a pop and pressed lightly at the spot of blood from the monitor. There went his mind wandering again, his concentration waning again, ability to multi task stolen by the poison leeching into his brain and central nervous system. He needed to focus, needed to listen, needed to carry on a conversation with both Pepper and the head of Securities Commission for the Monaco Grand Prix because they were both rightfully confused and understandably angry and--

“Tony!”

“I’m with you.” Tony turned from the monitor because the numbers were proving too distracting, turned away from the window because the clamoring crowds outside made his blood pressure sky rocket. “Yeah Pep, I’m listening.”

It was obvious by Pepper’s tone that she knew full well Tony wasn’t in fact listening in the slightest, and Tony grimaced when he heard the tell tale sniff that meant he was already getting on her last nerve.

Sorry, Pep.

“Now then, I can assure you that neither Stark Industries as a company nor myself or Mr. Stark as individuals had any idea that our presence here would bring a whip wielding maniac to the track. To be quite honest, you suggesting that we somehow invited this sort of trouble is the height of rudeness.”

Pepper was a godsend when it came to dealing with… well, dealing with everything. Privately she was always ready to take Tony to task for his recklessness, but in public she was wholly supportive of Tony’s antics, of Stark Industries’ choices and more recently, of everything Iron Man did. She was amazing, and Tony tried not to smile so big when a torrent of irritated French from the head of security was met with an equally irritated retort from Pepper who had had quite enough of the insinuation that Iron Man had hoped for a baddie just for a chance to show off his new toys.

“If I could butt in for a second?” Damn his chest hurt today, and Tony rubbed at it gingerly. “I just wanted to drive the fast car. Had no intention of inviting any sort of trouble. I just wanted to hear the engines go vroom vroom. Also I’d like to point out that I am here on vacation. I have my own personal bodyguard for my own personal issues. Maybe your security commission shouldn’t have let someone with a fake badge and a clear issue with authority close enough to slice and dice cars.”

The man exploded on the other end of the line and Tony held the phone away from his ear so he didn’t have to listen anymore.

It was a pointless conversation anyway, one that would go round and round and shift blame when no one was to blame. No one knew exactly what had happened out there on the road. The security commission had no idea who the intruder was and neither did Pepper and Tony. JARVIS had been closely monitoring any and all attempts to replicate either his armor or the arc reactor and the closest anyone had gotten to even moderately successful had been Justin Hammer’s disastrous experiments, so this had been completely unexpected.

The arc reactor Tony had torn from the guy’s chest was almost a perfect replica of the one above his own heart. The measured output of power was lower than Tony’s piece, but still impressive for a knock off. The harness and connected whips were a little ostentatious and villain-y for Tony’s taste, but he couldn’t really say that out loud when he was flying around in hot rod red and brilliant metallics, right?

They didn’t even know the stranger’s name-- he wasn’t talking, wasn’t making eye contact. Honestly could barely even breathe after the punch James had thrown and that was something else Tony had to think about but couldn’t think about without feeling like he might break down into hysterics--

--had James really grabbed that whip with a bare hand, or had Tony been so heart eyed at having the soldier come to his rescue that he hadn’t been paying attention?

“Tony, are you paying attention?”

“Yeah, Pep. I’m here.” The conversation turned to numbers of wounded and the devastating deaths of a few that served as collateral damage in the mad man’s rampage. Who was going to cover the six and seven figures worth of damage? What about the lost opportunities of drivers who had trained for years? What about the potential law suits from the spectators? The celebrities and dignitaries now furious with Monaco for allowing them to be put in so much danger? The damage to the Grand Prix’s reputation that took years to earn and was so quickly shattered in one reckless moment? They could be sure Stark Industries and any related personnel would be banned from the Grand Prix in the upcoming years if this was the mayhem they would bring to France!

And then Pepper with her rebuttal, somehow both soothing and cutting as she allowed the head of security to rant and rave and then effortlessly negated every point he made while laying down promises Stark Industries would have to write checks to uphold.

Tony couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t even hardly follow the conversation. He spoke French fluently but he spoke Aostan French like his Mama had and it was far different than the stilted French being shouted over the phone now. Aostan French spoken in Maria’s lilting accent and bussed onto Tony’s cheek as a bambino along with a kiss and a promise in Italian of sweets as soon as Howard wasn’t looking so long as Tony was a good boy, sei un bravo ragazzo mio figlio, sei un bravo ragazzo e ti amo.

Mama.

Tony had been thinking about his parents a lot lately, had thought about them in Afghanistan when he had been so sure he would die, again when Obadiah had laughed in his face and tried to crush his head between the Iron Monger’s palms, again when the first of the palladium had bled black around his heart and Tony collapsed out of a suit and onto the floor sure he was having a heart attack.

Maria had been warm and soft, Howard bitter and sharp edged, Maria combing her hair in the mirror and letting Tony play with her fancy vanity sets, Howard cursing under his breath when he found Tony singing and dancing in Maria’s too large high heels. Maria whispering encouragement as Tony picked out tunes on the piano, Howard never encouraging, never smiling, always pushing.

Damn his chest hurt today, and Tony tried and failed to get his mind back online as he pushed at the arc reactor until the metal edges dug into his palm, tried and failed to focus on the conversation after Pepper said the words ‘public apology’, tried and failed to simply think when his entire body felt stretched to its limit, head pounding and heart pounding and temples pounding and so badly needing to sleep, to rest, to be held that Tony didn’t know if he could even manage standing for a single minute more--

A quiet knock at the door, and before Tony could scream that he was not to be disturbed, that he could not handle another anything right fucking now, James stepped into the hotel room and shut the door firmly behind him.

Oh.

The soldier looked every bit as frantic as Tony felt, pale eyes wild and hair rumpled like he’d been tugging at it, clothes still stained from the fight on the raceway. James was chewing at his bottom lip and Tony unconsciously mirrored the motion, silver fingers were clenching and unclenching then plucking at a shirt hem anxiously and Tony bit the inside of his cheek until it bled when James just stood there and stared at him.

“I can assure you I am not making light of your concerns, however it is not Stark Industries duty to apprehend--”

Pepper was still talking and the phone slipped down from Tony’s ear to his side as he looked the soldier over and felt the overwhelming need to simply rest transform into something else entirely, weakening his knees and loosening his frame as James took one and then two steps forward.

“We should talk?” Tony muttered barely audible over the phone conversation. “About me being Iron Man and what happened out there? We should talk, right?”

“Don’t really wanna talk yet.” James took another step forward and waited, left hand turned palm out and almost reaching for Tony with an expression half wary half pleading, looking for all the world like he was well on his way to meeting Tony at a mutual breaking point. “Do you wanna talk?”

Soft and Brooklyn, slow and syrupy warm, fear and anxious turning to ready and want with nothing more than a step forward and a brush of fingers and Tony sucked in a shocked breath when James was suddenly on him, looming over him, pushing him back into the wall and grabbing him by the waist and clutching him tight.

“Jesus Christ Tony.” James ground out, left hand at Tony’s cheek, up into his hair and then down to rest at the base of his neck. “Dunno what the hell just happened out there, or who that was with those whips or what the fuck is goin’ on but I was so damn scared for you--”

--the words fell apart in a groan when their mouths met in a hard kiss, Tony’s head falling back and lips parting to make room for Jame’s tongue when the soldier tapped at his jaw impatiently and pushed forward to taste deeper, to pin Tony to the wall harder and take everything the pretty brunette was willing to give.

Tony grabbed at James’s shoulders, scraped across an impossibly wide back and tried to quiet a whimper when he felt where steel muscles fell into steel pieces, thick scars through the thin shirt, and heated skin against cold metal. “James.” Fingers at the collar of his shirt and then down to the buttons and Tony jerked and gasped when James shredded the material between his fingers with nothing more than a quick yank.

“Fuck.” James broke the kiss so he could stare, throat clicking dry when he swallowed and spread his palm out to cover the arc reactor and the black lines branching out from behind it. “This the thing? The one that powers your heart and the one that guy had? Same thing?”

“Same thing.” Tony nodded, grimacing away when he saw the black lines even from beneath James’s big hand. “Yeah it’s-- don’t uh, don’t look-- I’m a mess right here, James. Don’t--”

“You’re a mess?” James tucked his head into Tony’s shoulder and shuddered through an unsteady breath, shoulders curving in over Tony’s frame like he was trying to shield him, trying to protect him. “I’m shakin’, Tony. Dunno know why I’m so scared but damn it, you almost died out there. Don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

“You don’t remember enough about your life to know that for sure.” It was a morbid joke but Tony made it anyway, breathing a soft laugh and turning his nose into James’s hair, winding his fingers into the thick mess and tugging at it until James looked up enough to give him a kiss, and then another, and another so Tony could moan and drag his teeth along the soldier’s bottom lip. Finally finally James gave him the tiniest smile, bumped their noses and chased the kiss until it turned long and languid, punctuated by the still near frantic grip at Tony’s waist and the flex of steel fingers over his heart.

“Does it hurt?” James swept his mouth along the line of Tony’s jaw until his breath puffed hot in Tony’s ear. “Are you hurt?”

“Little bit.” Tony admitted, soft and uncertain and unused to telling anyone he was anything less than always fine, he was always fine but right now he was hurt and it felt good to actually say it. “Yeah I-- I’m hurt. Little bit.”

James gathered him up tighter and Tony wet his lips, faces so close he could almost trace James’s mouth with his tongue if he leaned in just a scant inch. “Will you--” he licked his lips again. “...make it better for me?”

“Make it better for you.” James echoed, and the tilt of his mouth was sinful and promising and relieved because he so clearly needed to be as close with Tony as Tony needed to be with him. “I’ll make it better for you, baby.”

Baby.

Christ, when was the last time anyone had called Tony a pet name, a sweet name, anything other than Tony or Stark or reckless?

“Make it better for you, baby.” James said again, halfway groaned the words as he shifted his weight so he was pushing right into Tony, tore the rest of Tony’s shirt away and yanked his own up and off his shoulders so the next time they kissed it was just skin on skin, steel fingers over the cold blue reactor, lips and teeth and stuttered gasps, Tony crying a muffled yes against Jame’s tongue when grasping hands hooked into his belt and shoved his pants down.

“Still wet from last night?” James panted into Tony’s ear, holding him steady so Tony could kick out of the trousers and rub naked against the soldier’s tight jeans. “Huh? Still fuckin’ dripping’ from me?”

“Shit.” Tony choked on a curse when James ran two fingers careful careful at his rim, the unexpected filth from the soldier stunning him speechless.“Oh-h-hh---”

“C’mere.” Up and Tony was suddenly off the ground several feet, James hefting him with nothing more than a quiet grunt and directing Tony’s legs right around his waist so there was a better angle to touch and feel and swear when Tony shuddered and clenched and dripped wet onto Jame’s hand. “Ah hell, sugar you feel so good.”

“F--fu--” Tony couldn’t even get a word out, not when the anxiety and terror of the day was currently dialing down to the singular pressure of James at his hole, when every beat of his heart made his cock twitch and leak against James’s washboard abs. “James.”

The first push in was breathtaking, body blanking, the too soon stretch nearly painful but the fullness altogether perfect and Tony’s mind shut down, his body went pliant and loose and every nerve centered in on his core and James throbbing inside him.

“God.” Tony’s head lolled back and James followed it with a line of kisses up his throat, mouthing at his pulse and digging in teeth enough to light sparks behind Tony’s eyelids. “James please-- please--” he was stuck, pinned, almost helpless on top of James and he loved it-- he loved it-- so much about his life was out of control right now but this? This was helpless but still control and this was pinned and held but still power because James was shaking against him and whispering broken, “Tony Tony Tony” into his hair, pushed just as close to the edge as Tony was just because they were together.

“M-make it better.” He stammered and James moved rough and fast inside him, scraping Tony’s back up the wall and printing bruises at his ass with a too tight grip. Tony hooked into James’s long hair and brushed it forward until it hid their faces, let the big soldier curl into him and there were soft words that felt out of place with the brutal strokes and whimpers pushed from their mouths with each thrust that bottomed out inside Tony’s center. Quiet pleas for more and yes and harder, James, harder and a hoarse answer, a shaken head-- don’t ask me to hurt you Tony, I can’t, I won’t-- and tears in Tony’s eyes that he tried to shut away and blink back because vulnerability shouldn’t be so scary and being held shouldn’t be such a relief, and he bit his lip raw until James sealed their mouths together to take the hurt away.

When they finished-- first Tony spilling between their bodies and then James following after-- when they finished, it was all too much and Tony hid in James’s bulk, folded in on himself as best he could with James still spreading him open, slumped onto the wall and rubbed his hands at his eyes and James muttered hot and desperate, “You scared th’hell outta me sweetheart. Don’t ever do nothin’ like that again.”

“Maybe you just make sure you’re there to save me.” was all Tony managed in return, not snarky but almost asking, not sarcasm but begging, and James nodded and just held Tony all the tighter.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

I got you.

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

Pepper wanted to leave immediately, wanted Tony to pack up and meet her down at the car in no more than an hour and so help her God, if he ever hung up on a three way call when she was trying to convince an entire country to not sue the hell out of Stark industries….

“I’ll be downstairs in an hour.” Tony had told her and James took that as his cue to leave.

A quick good-bye kiss at the hall that ended with Tony blushing beautifully, and James staying just a moment with his hand flattened to the closed door for sentiments sake, and then the soldier turned on his heel and sauntered towards the elevators that would take him downstairs again. He’d never even got his overnight bag up to the hotel room, hadn’t even seen the inside of the no doubt lavish room Tony had rented for him and now all he cared about was getting back on the plane and back to Malibu-- back to home.

When had he started thinking of Malibu as home? Of Tony as the man he--

… … …wait.

… …stop.

…danger.

An average bystander wouldn’t have noticed the half stutter in James’s walk, most special agents and operatives wouldn’t have caught his eyes darting just briefly to the left. There were very few people at all that could have identified the exact second James stopped being James and tapped into something instinctive and horrifying deep in his psyche.

It wasn’t even a second. It was a click click click and he acted lightning fast, snatched a body from behind a corner and threw it into an adjoining wall, closed silver fingers around a too delicate neck and squeezed.

“My oh my.” Natalie hung a terrifying foot and a half off the floor in James’s grip with both hands wrapped around an immovable wrist, stared into ghostly eyes and still had the audacity to smirk, “Is this how you treat Stark when you have him in this position?”

James leaned in close and growled, words coming bitten off and hard edged Russian as he snarled, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Natalie snapped, green eyes flickering with a breath of fear before steeling in stubbornness. “You sure remember the Russian thing, hm? ty sobirayesh'sya ubit' menya seychas, soldat?”

“I do not know what that means.” James hissed, and the red head laughed at him, mocked him to retort, “Yes, yes you fucking do.”

“Why are you pretending to be a secretary?” James ignored the clang of memory and almost answers in his head and squeezed tighter at the spy’s jugular. “What are you planning for Tony and Ms. Potts?”

“You know, the least you could do is remember me.” Natalie was whispering now, the words soft from her bruising throat. “You put a bullet through me, nearly killed me.”

“I do not remember the faces I let walk away.” the soldier rumbled. “I only remember the ones I saw between the crosshairs.”

Natalie blinked in poorly disguised surprise, and James flickered, flinched as a sea of faces swam through his mind all at once. “No, that’s not right, I--” it was almost eerie the way his voice tipped between nearly robotic to heartbreakingly unsure, a thread of New York when James was himself, muttering to himself in Russian when he struggled-- “YA ne ... net, eto ne ya. It’s not me--”

“You remember.” Natalie found the wall behind her with one foot and braced herself. “I know you do. This is just an act. You are pretending and I see right through you.”

“Not--” James grimaced like his head hurt. “Not pretending I just don’t-- don’t remember a whole lot of anything these days.”

“Mm.” Natalie planted a tiny foot at James’s chest and the soldier was too lost in his own head to notice. “Count your blessings, then.”

It was one two three steps up the soldier’s chest, and Natalie scaled him using the wall as leverage, wrapped her thighs around his neck and threw James to the ground with her legs tight at his throat and rapidly cutting off his air.

James hissed out a pained breath and grabbed onto her feet to wrench them apart, rolled on the floor when Natalie damn near broke his neck when she clamped down tight and snapped out a piano wire between her hands to get under his chin.

“Fuck--!” Both hands at Natalie’s thighs and James jerked--- snap the femur, drive the bone through her skin, puncture the femoral artery, shock and trauma contributes to death, bleed out in less than five minutes, faster if I snap her neck-- and froze.

...Natalie stopped when the soldier did, the piano wire falling lax between her fingers.

“You really don’t remember anything.” she stated warily, suspiciously, her heart sinking the longer James hesitated with those dangerous hands at her legs. “Or at least you aren’t who I think you are. Otherwise you would have killed me right now.”

James tapped into his strength just enough to push the redhead off, rolled to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets to give Natalie space to stand up as well.

“Alright then.” Natalie adjusted her hair and smoothed down the short skirt of her red dress. “That’s-- this is interesting, but I can adjust.”

“You’re trying to hurt Tony and Ms. Potts.” James dug his fingers into his own thigh until it stung, forcing his mind to stay focused and sharp instead of wildly spinning from the intake of Russian and violence. “Not gonna let that happen.”

“I promise you, I’m not trying to hurt anyone.” Natalie inched away a few steps, knowing full well her escape from death at the hands of the Winter Soldier might only be a temporary reprieve. “I can’t tell you why I’m here right now, and I know for certain the old you would take that as a threat, but I am not a threat.”

She hesitated, then conceded with a tiny smile, “At least, I am not a threat to anyone you currently care about, and so long as you keep your distance, I will not be a threat to you.”

Natalie knew things and James could see that plain as day. But he could also see that she was telling the truth-- meaning no harm but also ready to take no shit and he finally swallowed and backed up a few steps of his own as a conciliatory measure.

Don’t test me, I won’t test you.

“You know who I am?” he asked quietly, half desperately, zeroing in on the only words that seemed to make any sense. “Who I used to be?”

“I don’t know who you are right now.” Natalie was careful to answer simply, honestly. “I know pieces of who you were at one time, but nothing more than a name of who you were before then.”

“You know my name?” James hunched his shoulders and shuffled his feet. “My real name? Who I was before all of--” a vague gesture towards his left arm and then to his head.

“Yes.” Natalie was breaking every one of Fury’s rules, betraying the trust of someone else she had only recently began to call friend, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, I know your real name. Who you were before you lost your arm.”

“Tell me.”

And Natalie took a deep breath, backed up another step just in case and whispered, “Your name is James. I swear it. Your real name is James.”

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

The plane ride back home to Malibu was tense, Pepper switching between talking on the phone and talking at Tony about what had happened, Natalie being purposefully, conspicuously quiet in her own seat and James equally as purposefully, conspicuously quiet in his spot on the low couch along the back wall of the jet.

“Pep, I need you to listen to me.” Tony rubbed at his temples wearily when Pepper kept right on talking. “No, wait. You and I need to talk about a few things and I’ve been keeping it from you but I’m running out of time so--”

Natalie’s head snapped up curiously, but Pepper raised a hand to cut Tony off. “No, Tony I need you to listen to me. We cannot continue on like this! You are getting increasingly reckless and it has to stop! I know you’re happy I took over the company but I can’t keep doing my old job of babysitting you and also the new job of all of this and then also--”

“Alright.” Tony stood up and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m asking too much of you.”

“God, Tony.” Pepper wiped at a stray tear and pulled him back so she could kiss his cheek. “I love you dearly, but I need you to not be you for just a few weeks until all of this settles down, okay? Please?”

“Not be me for a few weeks.” Tony nodded like he would still be around in a few weeks. “Yep. I can do that. I’ll do that. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Pepper patted at his hand. “Okay um-- you have to go to that luncheon okay? I know we won’t set down in Malibu until close to three am but at eleven am you have to be perky and presentable and appropriate for the congratulatory luncheon at the gardens, do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” Tony crossed his heart, and finally Pepper smiled. “I promise, I’ll be there. Fully dressed, fully sober, all of that. Promise.”

“Thank you.” Pepper took a long drink of her wine, then inclined her head towards James on the couch. “Go sit by someone who won’t mind your brand of shenanigans.”

“Sure, Pep.”

James didn’t scoot over when Tony came to sit by him, only lay his arm along the back of the couch in an open, obvious invitation for Tony to cuddle right up close. Tony debated it for a second, two seconds before finally sitting and inching closer and then closer again until he could lean his head onto James’s shoulder and let all the weariness drain right out of his body.

It was nice not to have to hide, nice to feel the warmth pouring off James and know it was okay to snuggle even closer and no one else would look twice in their direction.

Is this what it could have been like for years if Tony hadn’t been so far back in the closet, so afraid of the tabloids and the disapproval from beyond the grave?

“Wanna be my plus one at a luncheon tomorrow?” Tony’s head hurt, but that was nothing knew. He was thinking about Pepper and thinking about Monaco and thinking about changes to James’s arm and thinking about his upcoming birthday party he’d forgotten to cancel because it was a standing blow out bash every year no matter what and based on the RSVP’s pouring into J’s system, not even Afghanistan had dissuaded the usual hangers-on and party seekers.

His head hurt and there was too much going on to concentrate, but when James reached for his hand and wound their fingers together, Tony’s mind snapped into single minded focus, wholly delighted with how James’s callouses felt against his palm.

“I’ll be your plus one, Tony.” Something about James was different and Tony didn’t quite know what it was. The soldier seemed more settled and while Tony wanted to think it was because of their wall activities, he knew it had to be something more.

Maybe James would tell him later.

“A luncheon could be fun.” James continued and Tony chuckled softly-- “I don’t know if it’s fun. It’s the un-official promotion party for the new Secretary of Defense. He had a shin dig in Washington but he has a house out in Malibu, so he wants a party there too. It will be a lot of fancy suits and uptight small talk and horribly undersized hor dourves. It’s only fun with the right company.”

Tony pressed at James’s hand meaningfully, and was rewarded with a soft kiss on his hair.

“So who’s the new Secretary of Defense?”

“Alexander Goodwin Pierce.” Tony popped the P of the word. “Nobel Peace Prize nominee, head of some pretty intense committees, in at least a dozen different photos with my dad and various presidents. Nice guy.”

“Alright then.” James-- because he was James, he was. That was his name and now he knew it for sure. James shifted closer and smiled down into Tony’s dark eyes. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

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

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER! {loved all the comments on the last one, thanks to everyone who does interact with the fic, you guys make me so happy!}

Chapter Notes:

Aostan French is spoken in Aosta Valley, Italy, established as the official language in 1561. Schools teach both Italian and French equally and it is highly likely Maria Carbonell would speak that specific dialect vs the more formal French.

* sei un bravo ragazzo e ti amo-- you are a good boy, (son) and I love you

* ty sobirayesh'sya ubit' menya seychas, soldat-- are you going to kill me now, soldier?

Why I love this chapter-- all the long sentences that show both Tony and James processing too much information all at once, the way Tony is physically and mentally slipping as opposed to James who is finding more and more of himself every day. Same symptoms of shared trauma but Tony is heading down the path towards death while James is fighting his way back towards living.

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

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73 @ actual-demon-belial

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #natasha romanov #pepper potts #iron man 2

84 notes · View notes

queentargary3n · 4 years

Text

blessings

SasuSaku month 2020 Day 17

Reincarnation AU - Police Officer Sasuke AU

There isn’t a single day of his life that Uchiha Sasuke isn’t thankful for his life. For his mother’s gentle smile and kind nature, for his father’s silent praises, for his brother’s company and support. He’s even grateful for his loud mouthed, blond, best friend, who annoys him most of the time, but has his back when he needs it the most. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve such great people in his life.

At 24, having graduated college, and finished training in the police academy, he sets up for a bright career as a police officer and hopes to make detective before he is 30.

So, he goes to work every day, knowing he is making a change. Watching over the people he grew up with, protecting his beloved town, and actually doing something about the crime that has begun to infest it.

Sasuke knows his life is good, he was born in a good family, went to a top tier university, he never lacked for anything. He knows that having his family, being able to afford his own place, buy a new car, and work in something he actually likes is a luxury many don’t actually have.

But even as he counts his blessings every day, he can’t escape the feeling that he is missing something. Like there is a hole inside of him, he can’t seem to fill with anything.

He doesn’t remember when his nightmares started, perhaps he’s always had them. Sometimes it’s the bloody corpses of his parents that terrorize him during the night, the sadness of his brother’s eyes, as he looks at him from afar, eyes shining red and spinning unnaturally. Other nights it’s a white-faced man, with snake-like features that hunts him, forcing him to drink potions that taste horrible and burn down his throat, telling him that they will make him stronger. On other nights he dreams of facing gigantic humanoid creatures, dead bodies littering the ground he steps on.

But some nights, he dreams of pink cherry blossom hair and green eyes. The spring girl, as he calls her, cries behind him, begging him not to leave, or stands in front of him as one of his hands reaches for her neck and the other holds lightning, readying to electrocute her, he assumes.

Not every dream is violent with the spring girl, sometimes it’s just him and her. She hugs him or holds his hand as they look over magnificent vistas he’s never actually seen in real life. Sometimes they are children, sometimes they are grown, sometimes he taps his fingers to a strange diamond tattoo on her forehead and she blushes. Sometimes he kisses her and makes love to her. He wakes up to a feeling of sadness and tears rolling down his eyes. He doesn’t know who the girl with the cherry blossom hair is, or why is she a constant in his dreams, but the dreams bring him to tears he’s not one to usually shed. He can never shake the feeling that there is someone out there in the world, waiting for him.

On the day of his annual mental evaluation he is very concerned. He always seems to be expecting something to happen. Someone to attack him or his family. He has so much fear over losing it all, it causes him anxiety and panic attacks in the most unexpected times. He’s afraid the new department psychologist will find out and deemed him unfit for service.

It’s unnerving, feeling this way, because in reality what does he even know about pain? He’s never seen blood; he’s never even had to fire his gun on the job, what could possibly be the explanation for his nightmares? He wonders.

Itachi, who’s on the department of youth and family services, always tells him that is not how mental illnesses work, his anxiety has nothing to do with how good his life is or how lucky he is, and that he should never dismiss his own struggles or be comparing his suffering to others.

Sasuke understands but doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you should be honest with the psychologist” He tells Sasuke, even if they take you off duty Itachi thinks, but he leaves it unsaid.

“I’m not going to tell her anything she doesn’t ask me… It’s not like having bad dreams makes me unfit for work” Sasuke responds.

“Maybe you should go see my psychic” Izumi chirps in from the doorway to Itachi’s office. “I wasn’t eavesdropping I promise! I was just coming to take my boyfriend out to lunch and I just happen to overhear”

Sasuke only glares at her, he doesn’t like anyone meddling in this, it feels too personal to share with his soon-to-be-but-not-quite-yet-sister-in-law. Itachi gives him an apologetic look on her behalf but says nothing.

“Still those dreams huh? She has really interesting ideas about those! Do you believe in reincarnation?” She asks him.

“That you believe all that craps she sells you, tells me so much, you’re crazy for starters” Sasuke tells her, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No but hear me out!” Izumi tells him, ignoring his previous comment. “Like, our dreams don’t just make things up, right? You have to have seen those things somewhere, like that girl you keep dreaming about, you met her somewhere, your brain didn’t just invent her, but the circumstances you dream her in don’t match your life, right? Maybe you met in another life! And my psychic can tell you all about that!” she looks in her massive handbag and produces a presentation card that Sasuke takes, out of politeness, but doesn’t bother to look at.

Sasuke doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing, his beliefs always been on the more secular side of things, but even if there is a remote chance he might have lived another life before, where he saw wars, and monsters, and his parents death, he sure as hell doesn’t want to know about it.

So, he goes about his day, entirely forgetting the non-sense Izumi was blabbing on about. He goes to lunch with Naruto, ramen again unsurprisingly, makes a visit to a home for a noise complaint, files his paperwork, and tries to go home early for a change.

He attempted to postpone his psych evaluation as much as he could, that is, until his father, the head of the police department catches him on his way out, and orders him to medical immediately so he can get it over with.

“Go on, you know its protocol, she’s there now” His father chastises.

Sasuke is irritated to no end, but he still obediently makes his way to the new psychologist’s office in the back of the building.

Just keep it simple, don’t elaborate, it’ll be fine, he thinks to himself.

The door to the psychologist’s office is open, so Sasuke stands in the entrance and knocks on the door to announce his arrival. The space is completely littered with boxes and mountains of papers, stacked on top of another and covering the desk in its entirety, so much so that he can’t even see the person seating behind it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m new, I’m still getting everything settled! Are you here for an eval? Did I get your file? Where are my files!? What’s your name?” She says in a rapid succession.

He stays quiet, so she can gather herself, and takes a seat in front of her crowded desk, and it isn’t until she moves the two gigantic boxes of documents in front of them that he is able to see her.

He sits complete frozen, utterly speechless upon setting eyes on her. Because the person seating in front of him now, is unbelievably and irrevocably the Spring girl.

The shiny pink hair, wide emerald colored eyes and a blushing face he’d never mistake for anyone else’s are facing him now, with a look of surprise on it.

And he is sure his face mirrors hers, especially since the next thing she says to him, is an almost whispered, “Sasuke-kun….”

“I can’t believe this…” She mumbles and looks like she’s about to jump on him, but the look on his face stops her. “Do you… am… do you know who I am?” She asks, a hint of hope sparkling in her eyes.

“The new psychologist… about to perform my yearly eval?…” He responds, unsure of himself.

He can see the deflated expression and disappointment spreading thought her. “Right… I haven’t seen your file… ahem sorry… I think we are going to have to postpone this… maybe someone else can do your evaluations tomorrow, I apologize” She tells him, in a more composed and professional tone.

She stands and grabs a small purse from one of the drawers and tries to make a quick exit.

Sasuke stares at her unable to say anything. He observes every detail he can about her, every slender curve of her body, the way her neat short hair hangs on her delicate neck, and he is suddenly overcome with the image of her, wearing a red tunic instead of the sensible suit, a red and white fan crest in the center of her back.

His hand moves almost of its own accord and grabs her tiny wrist to prevent her from leaving, and she turns to look at him, green eyes wide and full of emotions he’s not able to understand.

“I know you from somewhere” He says, in a statement not a question.

“Do you? I don’t think so, sorry” She responds and tries to shake his hold on her wrist.

“You said you hadn’t seen my file; how did you know my name?” Sasuke asks her, in the demanding voice she remembers so well.

“I… just… ahem… I don’t….”

“What are you hiding?”

“Do you remember something… anything… about me?” She asks, the adorable blush from earlier spreading through her face again.

Sasuke isn’t sure what she means, but now that she’s facing him, he becomes completely lost in her eyes, his instincts screaming at him to hold her, and never let go. “Who are you?” He asks. Because saying, yeah, I remember you from a dream sounds entirely too stupid to mention.

The moment feels as if suspended from time, the atmosphere too suffocating, he’s afraid of even closing his eyes, sure that the moment he reopens them, she’d be gone like every dream he’s ever had.

“My name is Sakura” she says, and her name sounds like music to his ears. “This is going to sound really strange, and possibly unprofessional, but do you want to go get a drink?” She says, biting her lower lip and taking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

He only nods his head yes and releases her hand. “Just… how do I know you?” He whispers.

She giggles in response, her face more assertive than before. “It’s a long story Sasuke-kun… maybe… I’ll tell you later” She says, poking his forehead with two fingers before grabbing his hand and pulling him to follow.

He doesn’t know anything about the strange girl with the cherry blossom pink hair other than her name, still he would follow her anywhere. He can’t help but to feel his blessings are finally complete.

#ssm20 #ssm20d17 #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fic #sasusaku ficlet

103 notes · View notes

mopeytropey · 4 years

Photo

skip the beer, pour the whiskey

a beer buds series: chapter 7 (or as @orangeyouglad8 and I have coined it: The Separation)

Available on AO3 at the link above or below the cut:

Timeline: The Separation -- this falls within the span of time during which Clarke and Lexa were not speaking as they dealt with the fallout of having crossed a major boundary in their friendship (chapter 5 of 'apu'). Lexa has the sads and Lincoln, as always, is lovely.

Beer: glass of bourbon on the rocks ::: Lexa is awash in contradictions.

She tends to find indecisiveness in others frustrating; recognizing the trait in herself is intolerable.

She has suffered this recent truth about herself for months—feeling inept at choosing a path and toeing a line between a dual existence.

Loyalty. Truth. Stay. Leave. Costia. Clarke.

In the absence of Clarke, she is further paralyzed. Lexa has spent the better part of November wallowing in the consequences of her inaction. Obstinate loyalty has caused her to lose Clarke, leaving her tethered to Costia by her own hand.

In a cruel twist, Costia spends more time at home, worrying over Lexa’s wellbeing while her students prepare for their finals during the early weeks of December. The extra care and concern, brief hugs and soft looks, only makes Lexa feel worse.

She’s agreed to Lincoln cooking her another meal, in a moment of weakness, and each step she takes towards his apartment is heavy with regret. She doesn’t wish to see friendly, familiar faces. She doesn’t deserve their kindness. Not even the prospect of time spent in Lincoln’s company has sounded appealing in the last month. Lexa has been hermitting away for weeks—mourning the loss of Clarke’s friendship and throwing herself a spectacular pity party.

At first, it was merely Clarke’s shift in tone. She had turned stringent, detached, employing the professional air of a work colleague. Her responses to Lexa’s texts lost all their effusive flair, cooling by degrees until they ended entirely. The message was clear: Lexa had said too much, showed her hand, and scared Clarke away.

“Hey.” Lincoln answers the door with a meager smile. Not the bright beam of light that he so often wears in Lexa’s presence but something kind and cautious.

“Hi.”

They engage in a brief, one-arm hug as Lexa crosses the threshold into Lincoln’s warm and fragrant apartment. She holds a peppermint tea in one hand, having stopped for something to keep her warm on her walk. She’s started frequenting a coffee shop closer to her apartment, not purely for convenience but by intention. Avoiding the more familiar shop by the water feels like adhering to some silent set of boundaries that Clarke has put in place.

“It smells good in here,” she tells Lincoln while slipping out of her shoes by the door and setting down her tea to remove her coat and hat.

“Pot roast and potatoes.”

Comfort food.

Lexa finds her smile for the first time in weeks, and Lincoln squeezes a hand to her shoulder before returning to his kitchen. She follows behind with her tea, running her fingers through the curls that have been flattened beneath her winter hat.

When Lexa was newly fostered by Gustus, he’d attempted a welcoming, home-cooked meal. The pot roast was tough and sinewy, the potatoes undercooked and flavorless. Lexa had never felt so utterly cared for, filling her plate no less than three times. Over the years, she, Anya, and Gus—Lincoln too, for how often he would find himself at their kitchen table—worked to improve the recipe together. They studied spice blends, cuts of meat, and countless cooking videos. Even their perpetual culinary failures were communal, familial. Eventually, it evolved into a cherished family favorite that Lexa directly associates with the comfort and safety of home. It remains the one meal her father is capable of preparing with relative success to this day.

“Thanks for cooking.”

“I’m glad you came over,” Lincoln smiles at her from the stove. He doesn’t say finally, though she feels the implication.

Lincoln has continuously attempted to see her, despite Lexa’s refusal to socialize. Passing conversations at work and random text messages have been their only contact for almost a month, but Lincoln never stopped reaching out to her. She wonders if anything might have gone differently had she not eventually given up on repairing things with Clarke.

When days without contact turned into weeks, Lexa panicked. As the weeks stacked into a month, she lost all hope for restoring her friendship with Clarke.

It’s the space she wants, Lexa keeps telling herself. Further engagement would only push Clarke farther away.

“Can I get you a drink?” Lincoln is already drinking something from a beer glass but opens the fridge as he sips. “Octavia just restocked me with a bunch of shit I haven’t tried yet.”

“Uh, sure. Just … surprise me,” Lexa shrugs.

Incapable of making decisions. Even for the sake of alcohol. Lexa grinds her jaw at her own vacillating shortcomings: infuriating.

“You got it.” Lincoln works on making his selection while Lexa finishes sipping her tea, hoping it will calm her, and deposits her paper cup into the trash bin when she’s through.

“Actually, do you have any whiskey?”

Lincoln is chuckling as he abandons the fridge, leading them out of the kitchen. “Say no more.”

He stops beside a fully stocked drinks cart—mid century design of stained walnut with dull, brassy rails and casters. Lexa recognizes it immediately. “Is this the same cart from your moms’ house?” She runs a finger along one of the slender rails while examining its well-preserved design.

“Yep. The one thing I was allowed to take with me when I moved up here,” Lincoln grins proudly.

Lexa can feel the ghost of another smile. “I’m surprised Alice allowed it.”

“She practically wept when we loaded it onto the moving truck, but you know Rosa has a hard time saying no to her mijo.” His beaming smile returns, dimples and all, and Lexa rolls her eyes.

“It is an exceptional piece of furniture.”

“I swore to care for it like a firstborn child.”

Lexa smiles again, examining the bottles of liquor. “They’re still in New York?”

“Oh, moms are never leaving Carol Gardens, you know that. I think that house belonged to Alice’s great grandmother or something.”

Lexa lapses into fond memories of Lincoln’s childhood home—a stark difference from the foster families and group homes he’d previously survived in his younger years. Rosa and Alice were generous, kind, and gracious caretakers from the start. Eager to become parents and intent on making Lincoln feel safe and supported, they never gave up in spite of his ingrained mistrust. Their unconditional love and acceptance had been so unexpected and surreal, Lincoln spent the first six months of his stay with them waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That party you threw over winter break freshman year.” Lexa smiles fondly at the recollection.

“Oh my god, I was grounded for an eternity.”

“Anya and I were afraid to show our faces for weeks after that.”

Lincoln tsks her recollection and rolls his eyes. “As if you two could ever do wrong in their eyes.”

“Did you go back for Thanksgiving?”

Lincoln uncharacteristically balks, his gaze falling to the collection of liquor bottles that sit on the drinks cart. “Uh, no. I’m taking O to New York for a few days after Christmas so she can meet Alice and Rosa, but we, uh, we went to—Octavia never really spends holidays with her family because she prefers the Griffins, you know, and we usually all just go to, uh—”

He can’t even bring himself to utter her name, and it still feels like a punch to Lexa’s sternum.

“You can say her name,” Lexa tries for nonchalance, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets and smiling unsurely as she furthers the lie: “I’m not going to break apart or anything.”

“Right.” Lincoln clears his throat. “Anyway, Clarke hosts this little friends’ gathering every year at her place. You know how she likes to cook.”

“Right.” Lexa nods swiftly, trying desperately not to think about all of the other wonderful things about Clarke that make her disproportionately likable, not least of all her passion for food.

“How was your holiday? You were with Costia’s aunt?”

“Yes.” Her entire body feels rigid; a forced exhale does little to ease the tension. “It was … nice. Her aunt and uncle are great people.”

“Well, we missed you.” He offers hopefulness that Lexa doesn’t dare cling to. “Next year.”

She swallows roughly, unable to conjure a valid response, and hoists a bottle from the top tray of Lincoln’s cart. “I’ll try this one.”

Lincoln’s guarded smile is back, and Lexa wishes she weren’t the cause of it. “Let me get you some ice.” He reaches to a lower shelf for a glass. “Unless you want it neat?”

“No, I’ll take some ice. Thank you.”

Lincoln leaves her for the kitchen just as Gus emerges from the bedroom with a yawning stroll towards the couch. She is a giant ball of elegant, grey fur. Lexa follows her movements and plops onto a sofa cushion just as Gus leaps gracefully atop the armrest opposite.

“Are you keeping your distance now too?”

Gus watches her for a moment, calculating. It takes only the extension of her hand across the cushion for the cat to approach, nudging her nose into Lexa’s palm a moment later. She feels settled by Gus’s presence instantly. By the time Lincoln returns with her drink, she’s been lulled by loud purring and the downy fur between her fingers.

:::

Dinner is exceptionally prepared, and Lexa feels infinitely better with a full stomach. She and Lincoln talk of New York, and family, and the changing seasons. He’s being careful with her still, avoidant out of kindness and caution, but she knows there are things he wants to say.

On the couch after dinner, with Gus in her lap and a second whiskey sitting on the table beside her, Lexa finally makes a decision. She tells Lincoln the truth.

“I think I scared her off.”

Lincoln practically jolts at his end of the sofa when he realizes what subject Lexa is broaching. He has switched to whiskey as well—in solidarity, he’d said—and the two of them sip quietly for a few moments while Lincoln processes the new information. Lexa tries not to feel like a specimen under a microscope.

“Clarke?” His face creases in thought a moment later when Lexa nods. “That girl does not frighten easily—what makes you think you scared her off?”

“I talked to her about Costia.”

Lincoln’s dark eyes widen by a fraction. “What did you tell her?”

“How we almost broke up in New York. The disconnect I’ve been experiencing since moving up here.” Lexa exhales, feeling a rush at finally airing her admissions. “We were a little drunk.”

“Okay,” Lincoln smiles. “Still, I don’t think that would—”

“And then I sort of fell asleep on her couch … with her.”

She looks up from her lap to see the blatant shock in Lincoln’s gaping jaw and wide eyes. His expression would be priceless and more than a little humorous if she weren’t so anxious and full of regret over her actions.

“Okay, that might sufficiently freak her out.”

“I know.” Lexa covers her face with both hands, and Lincoln instantly backpedals his reaction.

“No, no wait. Lex, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything wrong.”

“I did. I messed up everything. I haven’t dealt with anything that’s going on with Costia, and Clarke is dating now—”

“Hey.” Lincoln wraps a hand around one of her ankles where her legs are stretched along the length of the couch, and only then does she pull her hands from her face to look at him. “Listen to me: you did not do anything wrong. I’ve crashed at friends’ houses hundreds of times, so unless you’re telling me that you fell asleep naked …”

Just the sound of that image has Lexa’s stomach bottoming out as she buries her face into the crook of an elbow. “Linc, oh my god. No.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, too proud of himself for having embarrassed her. “In that case, you really haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just—this is Clarke.”

Her eyes drift back to the cat asleep in her lap, and Lexa’s voice softens. “I know.”

“Do you?” Lincoln urges.

Lexa looks up. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

He smiles at her like an older brother might tease his distraught, younger sibling in the middle of an existential crisis. “Just checking.”

“The sleeping part was completely accidental,” Lexa grumbles, her face still cooling from the heated shame of imagining Lincoln’s inquiry while reaching for her drink.

Lincoln shrugs. “Hey, it happens.”

“Not with Clarke it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Lincoln considers her for another moment, sipping at his drink while Lexa fidgets with a seam on her shirt. “What did Costia say when you told her about staying over at Clarke’s?”

“She was glad I was safe—that I didn’t try to walk home or anything.” Lexa exhales and watches for Lincoln’s reaction. “Why?”

“I just think her response is indicative of your relationship. On the one hand, there’s obviously trust there. She’s worried more about your safety than the threat of you sleeping on another woman’s couch.” Lexa can feel her cheeks warm again and takes a sip of her whiskey. “On the other hand,” Lincoln pauses, waiting to catch Lexa’s eye. “Costia’s not an idiot either.”

There it is.

The truth (or at least an insinuation of it) that they have been dancing around for months. Lincoln’s gaze is not unkind but unrelenting in forcing her to confront her own culpability.

“I know.” Lexa thinks her voice has never sounded so small.

“You guys ever have that talk after DC?”

“No.”

Their intentions had been good. But in the end, they had been hindered by Costia’s schedule going into finals and Lexa taking on new responsibilities through Trikru. By the time they caught up with each other again, Clarke was gone and Lexa couldn’t see anything beyond the shape of her absence.

“I don’t even know if it’s worth it at this point,” she continues. “Who’s to say the same results wouldn’t keep happening again in relationships with other people?” Lexa bites at her lip, deepening the furrow in her brow. “What if the real problem is just me?”

“Hey, don’t say that shit about one of my best friends.”

Lexa finally makes eye contact to see Lincoln’s warm gaze looking back at her. Reassurance floods in even amidst all her surging self doubt.

“Deciding to be with someone shouldn’t be about calculated risk.” He rubs a hand across his abdomen, smiling fondly in contemplation. “You either feel it, or you don’t.”

“Feelings continuously shift and change—they’re an unreliable barometer.”

“Not always,” Lincoln challenges. “Sometimes you get that kick behind your ribs while in someone’s presence. Or, you feel that persistent pressure against your back, pushing you towards someone—you have to give those feelings some weight if it’s more than a fleeting impulse.”

She’s had similar debates with herself a million times, always ending up at the same conclusion. “I had all of those same feelings with Costia. And, look what’s happened to us.”

He tips his glass in Lexa’s direction. “Okay, sure. And, if those feelings have faded, doesn’t that warrant some consideration too?”

“I don’t … I don’t trust myself to make the right decision.”

It might be the most honest admission she’s had in months. She’s relieved that Lincoln is her confidante when the truth slips out and the reassurance of his soft smile returns.

“You’re always too hard on yourself, Lex. It doesn’t have to be so complicated.”

Lexa responds only by glaring at him spectacularly over the rim of her glass. Teaching herself molecular physics might be less daunting than solving her current relationship dilemma.

“I’m serious!” He defends himself through a laugh. “Okay. For me, it’s just about wanting to spend time with that one person more than anyone else. It’s not always fireworks or these massive heart palpitations, sometimes it’s just preference. Like, I prefer this one person’s company over everyone else, regardless of how long the relationship lasts.”

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “So it doesn’t matter if you and Octavia don’t last?”

“Oh no, she’s stuck with my ass forever.”

Lexa’s laughter dislodges some of the unease tightening in her chest.

“Honestly though,” Lincoln continues, “if O eventually met someone and felt that same draw that I feel towards her, or struck some connection that she believed would make her happier than I could … I would want her to explore that.”

Lexa watches her friend and resumes stroking her hand atop Gus’s head. “You’re an unbelievably good person, do you know that?”

“You are too, buddy. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Thanks,” Lexa responds softly.

“And, maybe Clarke is sorting through some stuff or taking space to figure out her own shit, but she’s not gone forever, okay? She’ll be back.”

Lexa releases a heavy sigh, wishing she shared Lincoln’s optimism.

In a week, she’ll leave for her holiday in New York. She’ll have the comfort of her father—his monstrous hugs, booming laughter, and mediocre cooking. And, she’ll face Anya, a far more imposing audience than Lincoln or Gus, in the midst of this internalized, romantic crisis. She’s exhausted by her own ambivalence and wishes someone in her life could just give her the right answers.

She wants shared laughter on the warm sand of a deserted beach.

She wants to place a coffee order for someone else and know it by heart.

She wants petty arguments about meaningless things that dissolve into long hugs and gentle apologies.

She wants extravagant brunches and lazy Sunday mornings, shared smiles in crowded rooms and soft touches that speak volumes.

Her desires are not uncommon. She could likely have these experiences with any number of women. Lexa reconsiders the simplicity of Lincoln’s perspective and dares to hope that a solution to her indecision could be so cut and dry. Because if the answer is preference, her solution is simple.

She doesn’t want these experiences with just anyone. More than anything, she wants them with Clarke.

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru!#clexa fic

65 notes · View notes

audiblesmirking · 3 years

Text

erratic heartbeats ~chapter 6: you gotta love them over-affectionate characters~

Legend: "English unless stated otherwise" --- 'Thoughts' --- "Telepathically speaking" --- [Authors' Note]

"what are you saying, mother...?" Azumi's eyes glistened with the tears she's been suppressing. "you had other intentions...?"

Akina sighed exasperatingly, raising a hand to rub her temple, trying to ease the growing headache. "... This wasn't the right time to tell you."

"Well, when were you planning to tell me?! Years later after I've mastered my psychic abilities?!"

"Yes." Aiken answered bluntly, looking straight at his daughter's eyes as it darts from his to his wife's. The look of betrayal was prominent on Azumi's face; with eyes the widest they have ever been since she was a child, and eyebrows furrowed in denial. She refused to comment on her father's brutally honest reply. Not like she could anyway; a lump had already formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking clearly without her voice cracking midsentence. As if a rope of thorns are wrapped around her neck, occasional sharp pains pricked her throat.

"There was no other options to choose from so quickly. We feared your powers would be too much too soon, so we went with the best decision we thought." Aiken explained, maintaining eye contact as Azumi takes unconscious small steps back until her calves bumped the sofa. At the unexpected impact, she almost lost balance and, fortunately, didn't fall on her butt on the couch. It would have been embarrassing to argue after just falling.

"This issue involves me! Why didn't you consult to me first?!" She was now yelling, the dam in her tear ducts breaking and sending rivers down her cheeks. "If you thought lying to save you the trouble of talking to me would be best, you were wrong!"

"But I suppose you're too busy with other things to care about—" Azumi cut her sentence short went she silently choked on her saliva. Usually, she'd be embarrassed, but she was too deep in emotion to be feeling only a specific one for a moderate amount of time.

"What does that supposed to imply?!" Akina joined her daughter in standing, seemingly understanding her words despite it being abruptly cut. "We're doing this for you! For when you've given up all your powers you've had your whole life to your child! When you turn into an ordinary person, atleast you'll live in comfort. In luxury!" Azumi was irritated at her mother's assumption of procreating. How dare she, she doesn't get to decide on that. Whether she decides on an offspring is up to Azumi.

"I don't need luxury if it means I have to be neglected by my own parents! Parents who could always spare time for their lonely daughter, who spent all her life trying to achieve all her parents' expectations hoping to be rewarded with praise and attention." Azumi tried not to sniffle too loud, not bothering to wipe her tears. "and receiving nothing after all those years." Azumi walked away, the first time she's done that to her parents, and she felt a new sense of freedom by doing so.

"Azumi—!" Aiken was already by his wife's side, shutting her up.

"It's fine. Let her be alone for the remainder of the evening. We'll discuss about this again some other time..." He looked at his wife in the eyes as he held her in place, knowing she'll follow their daughter to her room demanding an explanation for her deplorable behavior. "We're also at fault here, Akina."

——————————

The next day, Azumi woke up all puffy and blotchy after crying so hard last night. She intended to wake up just after Aiken and Akina left for work, so she could prevent running into them in breakfast and in departing. Not like they ever encounter everyday in the morning, anyway.

Azumi arrived at school early, so she decided to take a detour from her usual walk straight to her classroom. She headed to the side of the school, where very few people would choose to walk through, and sat down on the concrete bench surrounding one of the trees. It was a windy morning, mild gusts of air blowing from the east, providing Azumi with the coolness she needs to feel as comfortable as possible. She was content on simply watching the leaves sway and fall from the wind until the morning bell chimes, but she was interrupted.

"Huh? Little buddy?"

Azumi turned to see Nendou approaching her. 'I didn't pin Nendou to be one of the early birds.' She gave a small wave, before redirecting her attention to the sky. 'But maybe it's just for today that he arrived here early, I do remember him mentioning about some early morning try-outs.'

"What are you doing here? Let's go to our classroom!" He beamed, before shifting his expressions to a more playful one. "Or did you forget where to go? Don't worry, little buddy, I'll show you the way!"

Azumi smiled at this. "No, I didn't forget. I just thought of clearing my head before school starts." She watched as he walked closer to her to listen more clearly to what she was saying, before another gust of wind blew the trees and drew her attention back to them.

Nendou decided to sit down next to her, planting each of his palms on the concrete beside his thighs and leaning back, using his arms for support. "Eh? Clear your head? Where will your brain go then?"

She lightly laughed, sparing her friend a glance. "It's not that type of clearing. I just want to forget about what happened to me last night."

"Huh, something happened to you last night?"

"Say, Nendou, how is your relationship with your parents?" Azumi realized her confession, and attempted to change the subject before her companion pries too much.

"I only have my mom. My dad died before I was born..."

"I–I'm sorry to have brought it up." Azumi felt bad for being so insensitive, she intertwined her fingers together and broke eye contact with Nendou. "How is your relationship with your mom, then?"

"Oh, we're doing fine!" His drastic change in expressions is questionable. "She got a new job at this company that she says pays more. I'm really happy about that, because my mom says she can buy me new shoes now! Though, last night she made me clean my room because I came home late and made her worry... Oh yeah! What happend to you last night? You hadn't told me that yet"

'To think that he came back to the topic after my distraction.'

"A–Ah, that..." Azumi hesitated, 'I guess telling him would be fine. I mean, he's not one to judge the lives of his friends, right? I'll just leave out the whole psychic powers thing.' She sighed.

"... I had a fight with my parents..."

•°●•°●•°●

"I feel like a kid who got beat up by a delinquent on their first day at a new school."

Azumi wanted to talk to Saiki about what she found out from her parents last night. She wished to tell him, most likely out of spite from being lied to, but also because it involves him as well. Just after she rounded a corner, she was surprised to see an unfamiliar student walking next to Saiki as she was heading to her classroom. She raised a hand to fiddle with her ear cuff, curious to know what his relationship was with the new student.

"I don't get why you want to hide it. Psychic powers would get you all sorts of attention." The new student was being too loud with his words in their sort of environment.

Azumi raised her eyebrows at the thoughts incoming behind her and hid in an empty classroom. She felt Teruhashi about to walk by and pass the two boys walking ahead of her.

"That's what I don't want."

A few seconds and a gasp later... 'Looks like the new transfer student fell for me, too.' Kokomi cheered in her head as she leaves the hallway, bringing Azumi out of her hiding spot. She furrowed her brows at what Teruhashi had done, confused on why she would actively search through the school looking for the transfer student only to receive a mere gasp for her efforts. She can always wait for him to hear about her and watch as he finds her. Atleast in that way, she can just sit pretty.

"Wh–Who is that beautiful girl?!"

"That's Teruhashi-san. She passed by us on purpose. You should be thankful."

Toritsuka Reita reacted loudly, shaking the shoulders of Saiki, before quickly being flocked by girls. All of which are curious about the news that spread about his psychic abilities.

"Saiki-san..." Toritsuka began, seemingly shocked by the crowd, but easily recovering. He smiled and gave a thumbs up in Saiki's direction. "Maybe I can settle for this."

'It'll die down, soon enough' Azumi thought, taking the chance to stand beside Saiki as if she had just arrived. She kept her hands in her pockets as the two psychics witness Toritsuka do his job in impressing the girls before him. "Who is he?" Azumi feigned ignorance of the situation, turning her head to look at the friend beside her.

Saiki shortly glanced at her in masked skepticism, before looking back at the gathering people around the spirit medium. "Toritsuka Reita." Azumi nodded in response, turning as well to watch the commotion in front of her.

Takahashi and his friends insisted Toritsuka tell their spirit guardians after initially being ignored, which inconvenienced the spirit medium in his quest to woo every girl that are around him. "Okay, let's see..." Toritsuka deadpanned, sparing them only a quick look. "Geezer, hag, hag, and hag. Okay, it's done."

Azumi got overwhelmed by the growing number of people gathered in the hallway, she sought solitude. In her attempt to walk away, she drew the attention of Toritsuka. "W–Wait—! You there, don't you want to know your guardian spirit?!" He gaped as she ignored him and left to go to her classroom. Toritsuka turned to the psychic he knows. "Saiki-san, do you know her?!"

"Ah, that was Kanasawa-san. She was new here on the first day."

"She's got a crazy powerful guardian spirit. Maybe even a psychic...?" He whispered to Saiki, to which his words piqued his interest.

He was about to repsond, when Kaidou came and interjected. "Guardian spirits? What nonsense." He acted uninterested, despite his thoughts telling otherwise. "Still, I'd suppose it would be rude not to hear you out. So tell me what my guardian spirit, or whatever, is."

Toritsuka was about to deadpan at him as well, but his guardian spirit was too interesting to not comment on. "Huh? Your guardian spirit is quite abnormal."

'Seriously?! 'Quite abnormal'?! Is it a demon?! A sealed monster?! A dark spirit?!' "I-I see. So what is it? Tell me." Kaidou had an obvious blush on his face, but despite his excitement, he lowered his voice to maintain his appearance of uninterest.

"It's a chihuahua."

"Ch-Chihuahua?!" Kaidou exclaimed as the students around started laughing. Looking down on his clenched fist, he started mumbling to himself. "How dare he?! I bet he's a fraud!"

Toritsuka faced Saiki. "Introduce me to her so I can tell her about her guardian spirit." His favor sounded friendly, but adding in his expressions and his true thoughts, it became too friendly and borderline perversion. 'Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, cute, cute. She looked so cute...' Not like he wasn't a pervert, anyway.

"What was that about, Kanasawa-sensei? Are you feeling alright?"

"Quit repeating 'cute' in your head...!" Saiki directed his thoughts to only the spirit medium, irritated at his noisy mind.

——————————

Aiken looked up from his desk, seeing the faces of two of his co-workers. "Hmm? What do you mean, Kinji-san?" He addressed the hospital resident who was with him in the OR, lowering the pen he was holding.

"In the surgery a while ago..." Kinji started.

"Why, what about it? Did I cut something wrong in any way?" Aiken knit his eyebrows, worry bubbling within him.

"No, it's not that. You did everything perfectly."

"So what's the problem here?"

"The problem is, you did everything. It was as if there was no one there to assist you in the surgery." The other doctor, Taiji, replied. He was there to confront Aiken after having been approached by Kinji. 'I appointed a number of residents under Kanasawa-san, because he was the best of the best, but how can they learn from him if he doesn't give them a chance?'

"Yes, is there something bothering you? This normally isn't the case." Kinji held on the backrest of the chair on the other side of Kanasawa's desk, contemplating if he should sit down or not.

Aiken sighed, leaning back on his chair. "It's a family issue. I apologize. I promise it will be ameliorated by tomorrow."

"Kanasawa-sama, the new managers of the marketing department have arrived. We are waiting for you to teach them the ropes." A petite young woman entered Akina's office after notifying her presence with a knock.

Akina looked up from her documents, she had finished little in the span of the morning, and the executive secretary took notice of this. "Is that so?" She turned back to the papers on her desk, lifting her pen to scribble in her signature. "Call in one of the presidents to lead on the managers. Whoever you choose that best fit the role will be my substitute." She spoke after a moment of silence.

"Are you not feeling well, Kanasawa-sama?"

"Yes, and so I entrust the decision to you, May-san." Akina looked at the young psychic in the eyes, an aura of superiority radiating off of the CEO. "Good luck."

"Come on, Saiki-san..." Toritsuka pestered Kusuo after he followed him around the whole day, through lunch and even now as they were walking out of the campus.

"As you wish, Kanasawa-sama" She bowed before leaving the room. May heard the sigh coming from her supervisor right before she fully shut the door.

——————————

Toritsuka mistakenly thought Nendou was a ghost a while ago, having swung his bag at him, and were now on their way to his home at the temple to explain his reason for assault.

"Just tell me more about Kanasawa-san!" He whined like a child that was denied from eating candy. "The ghosts avoid me like the plague when I ask about her from them."

"They do?" The new information grabbed Saiki's attention, but he didn't turn to look at his companion. "Well, they should."

"Is she a psychic like you? Because I think her guardian spirit might be an ancestor of hers. They look alike..." Toritsuka gave up on his begging, knowing that Saiki will not let out information even if he cried all night. Toritsuka leaned his head back on his interlocked fingers, before his saliva was practically drooling from the corner of his mouth. "But if she is someone with psychic powers, then I should've come to her instead."

Saiki smacked the back of his head with his psychokinesis, glaring at him from the corners of his eyes. "Hey! Don't go changing your mind after annoying me last night."

"Ow—! That hurt you kno—" Toritsuka cut off his own sentence when something in him clicked, as if the slap urged the gears in his brain to work. "Kanasawa... Does Kanasawa-san live next to you?!" He held the shoulders of the psychic beside him.

Saiki frowned at his personal question and invasion of personal space. "Why would you want to know?"

"Last night, while I was walking to your house, I passed by this huge house that was beside yours. It had 'Kanasawa' written in the gate's plaque." Saiki raised an eyebrow, having already known the information, but Toritsuka continued. "It was strange, because there were no ghosts hanging around and in the lot. There are a lot of ghosts that prefer to hang out in mansions, so it came as a surprise when I saw absolute zero ghosts when I passed by."

Saiki hummed in response, before throwing off Reita's hands from his shoulders using his powers. He contemplated with the new information he received, continuing with his walk. 'Her family is a mystery, even with the help of ghosts. As I thought, there is no other way to figure them out without getting close to them.'

"We're here. Okay, could you touch me while using your psychometry?" Toritsuka said after they stopped infront of his house, making Saiki push the topic of the Kanasawa's some other time. "I think you'll know why I made the mistake I made a while ago."

As Saiki stared at him suspiciously, he held his shoulders and activated his psychometry. "This is..."

Kusuo trailed off as he saw a Nendou lookalike sleeping on the ground while leaning on the stairs "Let me introduce you. This is my guardian spirit" Toritsuka looked ashamed, and didn't even look at Saiki in the eyes when he talked.

"You really do have it tough"

•°●•°●•°●

Azumi dreaded to enter her house, standing in front of the double doors and contemplating whether to enter or to retreat to a nearby park. 'No, I shouldn't postpone this any longer. It is bound to happen, anyway.' With gathered confidence, she pushed opened the door and walked in.

'They're either waiting in the main living room, my room, or the dining room.' Azumi hoped they were in the dining room, but the call she heard after being halfway in walking past the main living room, proved otherwise. 'Living room it is...'

She silently entered and sat in the exact spot she was the other night, feeling the gazes of Akina and Aiken as she does.

A heavy silence hanged in their air, each member of the family waiting for the other to speak up. Aiken chose to start. "It has come to our attention that you have been feeling neglected and ignored by your mother and I... and, we wish to amend the mistake we made and be given another chance to become proper parents to you." He spoke slowly, thinking over his words before it would be said, so as not to offend anyone. "I hope our talk today will enlighten all three of us of the hardships we each have encountered, and discuss a proper solution to help."

"There should be no raising of voices. We are here to talk and to listen." Aiken finished, looking at the expressions of his wife and daughter to see if they understand and agree or not. The two nodded, making Aiken nod as well.

The Kanasawa couple met gazes, and Aiken prompted his wife to talk. "I... have come to realize that I oftentimes cut you off... Zumi-chan. I didn't know it would have a greater effect on you than waiting for you to finish what you're saying. I'm sorry. This is more on a problem of self, so I don't wish for you to change because of what I've done."

Azumi stared at her mother, harboring mixed feelings on the apology she received. She looked down, thinking over of what to say. "An apology is the first step to redemption... and so, I accept your apology." She took notice of the wistful look on her father. 'Ah, I guess he has nothing to talk about, because we almost never talk—or do anything, really—alone.' Despite Azumi thinking her father had nothing to share, she was surprised to hear his voice.

"I apologize for not spending any of my time with you, Zumi-chan." He looked down, with his eyebrows low, he refused to look at his daughter. "I will make it up to you over time. We'll be bonding together atleast once a week, now."

Azumi furrowed her eyebrows at his words. "But your work..."

"I can always have a number of leaves a month. Since I'm a talented volunteer, they treasure me enough to let me manage my own schedule."

"And I can always reschedule." Akina added in. "You were right. No amount of money can ever replace the love from your parents." Akina genuinely smiled at Azumi, who slowly returned the smile. "I'm sorry it took so long for us to realize."

"it's okay, as long as you both won't forget." Azumi weakly said, afraid to hear her voice crack as a lump formed in her throat just as what happened last time.

"Ah, before I forget. About what you said of being well-rounded yesterday." Aiken raised his head.

"A–Ah, that. You can just put it off as me blabbering because of anger. I wasn't thinking straight last night."

"No, what you say matters." Azumi locked eyes with her mother. Her eyes widened by a fraction at the words she never expected to hear from Akina. "I cared too much about you being powerless, I pushed you to be perfect in every aspect. I hoped that even without psychic abilities, you can live your life whatever you wish, and pursue your dream job, as if you had them. I was obviously wrong."

"I'm sorry, as well, that I made you master various martial arts. I was simply concerned for when you encounter immoral people, and had no other way to protect yourself. By the time your powers awakened, you've already achieved all the highest honor of belts." It was Aiken's turn to lock eyes with his daughter. "I'm very proud of you."

"I pushed you to perfect every instrument, sport and hobby I give you. And I truly am sorry for everything I have put you through." Akina said after her husband finished. "I am very proud of you as well, Zumi."

Everything was going too fast and is overlapping with each other in Azumi's mind. She heard an apology and words of praise from both her mother and her father, so why isn't she satisfied? Was she too stuck up to genuinely accept their words? If so, she's feeling very horrible right now. Nevertheless, she forced a smile and wordlessly nodded. She didn't know what to think of right now, and ought to think it through the night.

"We'll be holding something similar to this every week, so we can improve our communication with each other." Aiken concluded, standing up from his seat, his family following suit. "Now, let's have dinner. I'm famished."

——————————

It was Saturday, and Azumi woke up pretty early; that is, if you can count 10:15 am as early. She had a sports lesson with Furushima Yumi, the volleyball captain she met during 'chapter iii.', and ought to prepare before their agreed time of 11:30 am.

She finished everything, from changing into her sports attire to packing water and towels in one of her bags, after almost an hour. 'Alright, 15 minutes is probably enough time for me to arrive at the school. But only if I run... Should I take the car?' While she was contemplating whilst headed for the stairs that lead down to the ground floor, she saw, from the corner of her eye, a frantic boy in front of her gate. 'Toritsuka-san?'

Azumi watched as he shouted at seemingly nothing, elaborating huge gestures as he does. 'What in the world is he going on about?' She was curious to know what has gotten him so worked up. 'Kusuo-san's house is over there, anyway.' With her heightened hearing, without touching her power limiter, she listened in on what the spirit medium has been talking about with the air.

"Come on, it'll only take a few seconds to peek inside..." Toritsuka dragged on, slouching his back and hanging his arms, slowly getting tired of all the ruckus he's been creating. "What's so terrifying about that mansion, anyway...?"

He stayed silent for a moment, most likely listening to the ghost he's conversing's explanation. "Eh? Is that so?" He looked at the front door of Azumi's house, before sighing. "I guess I'll wait for Kanasawa-san to come out. Oh, I bet she'll be super cute today, too~!"

Azumi grimaced in disgust at his last words. 'Yeah, I should take the car.'

"Azumi-san—!" Furushima took notice of the approaching figure of Kanasawa, placing down her water bottle and excitedly jogging towards the girl. "You're here!" She beamed, eyes creasing in delight and arms open to hug.

Azumi slowed her walking at the gesture the volleyball captain was showing, hesitating on whether or not she was comfortable enough to accept the hug.

In the end, she awkwardly wrapped her arms around Furushima, choosing to be polite and accept the gesture of affection.

After the first few volleyball lessons that happened between the two, Azumi thought they were close enough to be called by each other's names. "ah-hah... Did I make you wait, Yumi-senpai?" She let out a short nervous laugh before stating her question.

Furushima released herself from the hug, but let her hands rest on Azumi's forearms, smile unfaltering. "Not at all. But I have missed you since our last meeting." Before the psychic could respond, the volleyball captain was already ushering her towards the court, a hand gently guiding her back. "I thought you were ready to play with a team, so I invited a few of my friends, if you don't mind."

"No, it's fine. It's a fundamental part of playing volleyball, after all."

As if Furushima's smile couldn't possibly get any bigger, it just did. "You look pretty as usual today, Azumi-san..." Once again, Kanasawa was unable to reply when one of Yumi's friends yelled their greeting once they saw them walking towards the court.

==========

A/N

discuss plot holes of "erratic heartbeats" with us! @ the link in my bio.

#Fluff...?#original characters #reverse harem #Saiki Kusuo no PSI Nan #saiki kusuo no psi nan cast #i sprinkled a little angst in there

3 notes · View notes